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Sooth'd with the found the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain.

The mafter faw the madness rife;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chofe a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infuse;

He fung Darius great and good,
By too fevere a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high eftate,

And welt'ring in his blood;

Deferted, at his utmost need,
By thofe his former bounty fed:
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With down-caft looks the joylefs victor fate,

Re

Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a figh he stole;
And tears began to flow.

CHORU S.

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a figh he stole ;
And tears began to flow.

V.

The mighty master smil'd, to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred-found to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly fweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War, he fung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting ftill, and ftill deftroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying:
Lovely Thais fits befides thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the fkies with loud applause;
So Love was crown'd, but Mufic won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again :

At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breaft.

CHO

CHORU S.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again:
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breaft.

VI.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again:

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And roufe him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark, hark, the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head:

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he ftares around.

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

See the Furies arife;

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in their hair,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Thofe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain,

And unbury'd remain
Inglorious on the plain:

Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew.

Behold how they tofs their torches on high,
How they point to the Ferfian abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods.
The princes applaud, with a furious joy;

And the king feiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

CHORU S.

And the king feiz'd a flambeau with zeal to defroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

VII.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus, to his breathing flute,
And founding lyre,

Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle soft defire.
At laft divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before, Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown; He rais'd a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down.

Grand CHORUS.

At laft, divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The faveet enthufiaft, from her facred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown;

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

THE

THE

SECULAR MAS QUE1.

Enter Janus.

Janus. An hundred times the rolling fun
Hronos, Chronos, mend thy pace,

CE

Around the radiant belt has run

In his revolving race.

Behold, behold, the goal in fight,

Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. Enter Chronos, with a fcythe in his hand, and a globe his back; which he fets down at his entrance.

Chronos. Weary, weary of my weight,

Let me, let me drop my freight,

And leave the world behind.

I could not bear,

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Momus. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well haft thou done To lay down thy pack,

And lighten thy back,

The world was a fool, e'er fince it begun,

And fince neither Janus nor Chronos, nor I,

Can hinder the crimes,

Or mend the bad times,

'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

Cho. of all three.

'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

1 This Mafque, with the fong of a scholar and his miftrefs, was performed in 1700, for the author's benefit, with the play of the Pilgrim, with alterations by Sir John Vanbrugh, his fortune and health being at that time in a declining ftate.

Janus.

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