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ALEXANDER'S FEAST.

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ALEXANDER'S FEAST;

OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.-AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

'T WAS at the royal feast for Persia won

By Philip's warlike son:

Aloft, in awful state,

The godlike hero sate

On his imperial throne;

His valiant peers were placed around,

Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound;

(So should desert in arms be crowned);
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate, like a blooming eastern bride,
In flower of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,
None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

CHORUS.

Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touched the lyre;
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the power of mighty Love).
A dragon's fiery form belied the god;
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

When he to fair Olympia pressed,
And while he sought her snowy breast;
Then, round her slender waist he curled,
And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign
of the world.

The listening crowd admire the lofty sound-
A present deity! they shout around;
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.
With ravished ears

The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

CHORUS.

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 soldiers' 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.

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 joy less 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.

CHORUS.

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;
"T was 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.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honor but an empty bubble-

Never ending, still beginning-
Fighting still, and still destroying;
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, oh think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais sits beside thee-

Take the goods the gods provide thee. The many rend the sky with loud applause; So love was crowned, but music won the

cause.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and locked, sighed and looked, Sighed and looked, and sighed again.

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,

The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.

CHORUS.

The prince unable to conceal his pain,
Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,
And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,
Sighed and looked, and sighed again.

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.

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.

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