RONDELA Y. CHL I. the plain; HLOE found Amyntas lying, Sighing to himself, and crying, To reward your faithful swain: Kifs me, dear, before my dying; Ever fcorning, and denying To reward your faithful fwain: Chloe, laughing at his crying, A S O N G. I. O tell Amynta, gentle fwain, GI would not die, nor dare complain : Thy tuneful voice with numbers join, II. A figh or tear, perhaps, fhe'll give, But love on pity cannot live. Tell her that hearts for hearts were made, And love with love is only paid. Tell her my pains so fast increase, A A SONG to a Fair Young Lady, going out of Town in the Spring. A I. SK not the cause, why fullen Spring II. Chloris is gone, the cruel fair; To figh, to languish, and to die : III. Great gcd of love, why haft thou made And change the laws of ev'ry land? IV. When Chloris to the temple comes, I only am by Love defign'd ALEXANDER'S FEAST: OR, THE POWER of MUSIC, An ODE, in Honour of St. CECILIA's Day. I. WAS at the royal feast, for Perfia won 'Tw By Philip's warlike fon : Aloft in awful ftate The godlike hero fate On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with rofes and with myrtles bound. (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, None but the brave deferves the fair. CHORU S. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deferves the fair. Timotheus, II. Timotheus, plac'd on high With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: And heavenly joys inspire. The fong began from Jove, Who left his blissful feats above, When he to fair Olympia prefs'd: 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 croud admire the lofty found, A prefent deity, they fhout around: A prefent deity the vaulted roofs rebound: The monarch hears, Affects to nod, And feems to shake the spheres. CHORUS. With ravifh'd ears The monarch bears, Afjumes the god, Affects to nod, And feems to shake the fpheres. III. The praife of Bacchus then, the sweet musician fung; Flush'd with a purple grace He fhews his honeft face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus |