O footh her Cares With fofteft, fweetest Airs, 'Till Victory and Peace restore Her faithful Lover to her tender Breast, Within her folding Arms to rest, Thence never to be parted more, No never to be parted more. CHORUS. Let Victory and Peace restore VIII. Enough, Urania, heav'nly Fair! His golden Harp and laurel Crown. In the deep Organ's more majestick Sound. Who form'd the tuneful Frame, Th' immortal Mufick never dies, GRAND CHORUS. Cecilia, more than all the Muses skill'd, Aaa And Congreve. Congreve. And at her Feet lay down In the deep Organ's more majestick Sound. Who form'd the tuneful Frame, Dryden. Seine, gleichfalls für den Cåcilientag bestimmte, mufis kalische Ode, Alexander's Feast, ist eins der herrlichsten Meis fterstücke der neuern Poesie; reich an zaubersoller Mannichfaltigkeit der Bilder und Beschreibungen, an Schönheit und Wohlklang des Ausdrucks, und am wirkungsvollsten Wechs fel der Empfindung. Schon im J. 1687 schrieb er auf eben diese Veranlassung eine kürzere Ode auf die Harmonie, die gleichfalls sehr schöne Stellen hat. Gar sehr aber übertraf er sich selbst, und alle seine Vorgänger und Nachfolger, in gegenwärtiger Ode, die Pope in seinem Effay on Criticism sehr treffend charakterisirt: Hear, how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprise, And bid alternate paffions fall and rise! Now burns with glory, and then melts with love; Now fighs steal out, and tears begin to flow. Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found, And the world's victor stood fubdu'd by found. The pow'r of mufic all our hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now. Uebrigens weiß man, daß Håndel, im J. 1735, dieß Meis sterstück im eben so meißterhafte Musik seßte; und daß wir es Hrn. Rarnler zu verdanken haben, der eiren deutschen Text, mit Grundlage der Weißischen Ueberseßung, zu dieser Koms position einrichtete, daß diese lettre auch in Deutschland bekannter geworden, und mehrmals von Kennern bewundert ift. ALEXANDER'S FEAST. AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY. Dryden. I. "T was at the royal feaft, for Perfia won By Philip's warlike fon: Aa3 Aloft Dryden. Aloft in awful ftate On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were plac'd around, (So fhould defert in arms be crown'd). The lovely Thais by his fide Sate like a blooming Eaftern bride, None but the brave, None but the brave deferves the fair. Timotheus, plac'd on high With flying fingers touch'd the lyre; The fong began from Jove, A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god; And while he fought her fnowy breaft; Then round her flender waift he curl'd, And ftamp'd an image of himself a fov'reign of the world. The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found; A prefent Deity! they fhoot around, A prefent Deity! the vaulted roofs rebound. |