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Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did firit ordain;
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

CHORUS.
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ;

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure ;
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

IV.
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 master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check’d his pride.

He chose a mournful muse

Soft pity to infuse :
He sung Darius great and good,

By too severe a fate,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,

And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted, at his utmost need,
By those 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 joyless victor fate,

Re

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Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turn's of chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh 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 sigh he stole ;
And tears began to flow.

V.
The mighty master smild, to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred-found to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,

Soon he footh'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble ; Honour but an empty bubble ;

Never ending, ftill beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying :

If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think, it worth enjoying:

Lovely Thais fits besides thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So Love was crown'd, but Music 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.

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CHORUS.
The prince, unable to conceal bis pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,
And figb'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigb'd and look'd, and hgb'd again :
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breaft.

VI.
Now strike the golden lyre again:
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep afunder,
And rouse 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 arise:
See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !

Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand!
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain ;
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high,

How they point to the Persian abodes, And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods. The princes applaud, with a furious joy; And the king seiz'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.

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CHORU S.
And the king seiz'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.

VII.
Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus, to his breathing flute,

And sounding lyre,
Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle foft desire.

At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthufiaft, from her sacred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn sounds, 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 kies ;
She drew an angel down.

Grand CHORU S.
At last, divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame ;
The sweet enthufiaft, from her sacred fiore,

Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn sounds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield she prize,

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

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Janus. C

Enter Janus.
Hronos, Chronos, mend thy pace,

An hundred times the rolling sun
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 scythe in his hand, and a globe

his back; which he sets 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,
Another year,
The load of human kind

Enter Momus laughing.
Momus. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well halt thou done

To lay down thy pack,

And lighten thy back,
The world was a fool, e'er since it begun,
And since 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 Masque, with the song of a scholar and his mistress, 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 itate.

Janus.

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