Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul:

And dashing soft from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels joined the sound; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay,

Round a holy calm diffusing, Love of Peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.

But O! how altered was its sprightlier tone,

When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,

Blew an inspiring air that dale and thicket rung,

The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known;

The oak-crowned Sisters, and their chaste-eyed Queen,

Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green:

Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear;
And Sport leaped up, and seized
his beechen spear.
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:
He with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest:

But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,

Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best; They would have thought, who heard the strain,

Too weak, too, wilt thou prove
My passion to remove;
Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourish-
ment to love.

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!

For thou canst never tell my humble tale

In sounds that will prevail, Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire; All thy vain mirth lay by, Bid thy strings silent lie, Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy master die.

COWLEY.

TO MUSIC.

EVER a current of sadness deep Through the streams of thy triumph is heard to sweep.

HEMANS.

TO THE HARP.

THAT instrument ne'er heard Struck by the skilful bard

It strongly to awake, But it the Infernals scared

And made Olympus quake.

As those prophetic strings Whose sounds with fiery wings Drove fiends from their abode, Touched by the best of kings, That sung the holy ode.

So his when women slew
And it in Hebrus threw,

Such sounds yet forth it sent, The banks to weep that drew

As down the stream it went.

And diversely though strong,
So anciently we sung

To it, that now scarce known If first it did belong

To Greece, or if our own.

The Druidés imbrued
With gore on altars rude

With sacrifices crowned
In hollow woods bedewed,

Adored the trembling sound.

DRAYTON.

Timotheus placed on high Amid the tuneful choir

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 spheres he rode
When he to fair Olympia prest,
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!