With ravished ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god; Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,

Of Bacchus ever fair and ever

young:

The jolly god in triumph comes!
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!
Flushed with a purple grace
He shows his honest face:
Now give the hautboys breath; he
comes, he comes!

Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain;
Bacchus blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:
Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again,
And thrice he routed all his foes,
and thrice he slew the slain!
The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he Heaven and Earth defied
Changed his hand and checked 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 weltering in his blood;
Deserted, at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth exposed he lies
With not a friend to close his eyes.
With downcast looks the joyless
victor sate,
Revolving in his altered soul
The various turns of Chance below;
And now and then a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smiled to see
That love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.

Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!

Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark, hark! the horrid sound
Has raised up his head:

As awaked from the dead
And amazed he stares 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 unburied 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 glittering temples of their hostile gods.

The princes applaud with a furious joy:

And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy;