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Now give your songs of Zion to the wind,
And hail the benefactor of mankind:
He comes, pursuant to divine decree,
To chain the strong, and set the captive free.
Chorus of youths.
Rise to raptures past expressing,
Sweeter from remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.
Chorus of virgins.
Cyrus comes, the world redressing,
Love and pleasure in his train ;
Comes to heighten every blessing,
Comes to soften every pain.
Chorus of Youths and virgins.
Hail to him with mercy reigning,
Skill'd in every peaceful art;
Who from bonds our limbs unchaining,
Last Chorus. But chief to thee, our God, our father, fiend. Let praise be given to all eternity; O Thou without beginning, without end— Let us, and all, begin and end in thee.
THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.
SECLUded from domestic strife, Jack Book-worm led a college life; A fellowship, at twenty-five, Made him the happiest man alive; He drank his glass, and crack'd his joke, And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,
Could any accident impair?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our swain, arrived at thirty-six /
Oh! had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town;
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop.
Oh! had her eyes forgot to blaze;
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze.
Oh!—but let exclamation cease;
Her presence banish'd all his peace:
So, with decorum all things carried,
Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was—married.
Need we expose to vulgar sight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains clos'd around !
Let it suffice, that each had charms:
He clasp'd a goddess in his arms;
And, though she felt his usage rough,
In man 'twas well enough.
The honey-moon like lightning flew;
The second brought its transports too;
A third, a fourth, were not amiss;
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss:
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay:
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arose from powder, shreds, or lace;
But still the worst remain’d behind —
That very face had robb'd her mind.
Skill'd in no other arts was she
But dressing, patching, repartee;
And, just as humor rose or fell,
By turns a slattern or a belle.
'Tis true, she dress'd with modern grace—
Half-naked at a ball or race;
But when at home, at board or bed,
Five greasy night-caps wrapp'd her head.
Could so much beauty condescend
To be a dull domestic friend ?
Could any curtain-lectures bring
To decency so fine a thing?
In short—by night, 'twas fits or fretting;
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.