Arise, ye Earth, and Seas, and Sky!"

What can Music's power control?

When Nature's sleeping soul
Perceiv'd th' enchanting sound,
It wak'd, and shook off foul Deformity;
The mighty melody

Nature's secret chains unbound;
And Earth arose, and Seas, and Sky.
Aloft expanded spheres were slung,
With shining luminaries hung;
A vast Creation stood display'd,
By Heaven's inspiring Music made.
CHORUS.

O wondrous force of Harmony!

Divinest art, whose fame shall never cease!

Thy honour'd voice proclaim'd the Saviour's birth; When Heaven vouchsaf'd to treat with Earth,

Music was herald of the peace:

Thy voice could best the joyful tidings tell;
Immortal Mercy! boundless Love!
A God descending from above,

To conquer Death and Hell.
There yet remains an hour of Fate,
When Music must again its charms employ;
The trumpet's sound

Shall call the numerous nations under ground.
The numerous nations straight

Appear; and some with grief, and some with joy,
Their final sentence wait.

GRAND CHORUS.

Then other arts shall pass away:

Proud Architecture shall in ruins lie,

And Painting fade and die,

RECITATIVE.

The river's echoing banks with pleasure did prolong
Thesweetly-warbled sounds, nd murmur'd with the
Daphne fled swifter, in despair,

To 'scape the god's embrace:
And to the genius of the place
She sigh'd this wondrous prayer:

AIR.

Father Peneus, hear me, aid me!
Let some sudden change invade me;
Fix me rooted on thy shore.
Cease, Apollo, to persuade me;
I am Daphne now no more.
Father Peneus, hear me, aid me!
Let some sudden change invade me
Fix me rooted on thy shore.

RECITATIVE.

Apollo wondering stood to see

[song.

The nymph transform'd into a tree. Vain were his lyre, his voice, his tuneful art,

His passion, and his race divine;

Nor could th' eternal beams, that round his temples Melt the cold virgin's frozen heart.

AIR.

Nature alone can love inspire;

Art is vain to move desire. If Nature once the fair incline, To their own passion they resign. Nature alone can love inspire; Art is vain to move desire.

A THOUGHT IN A GARDEN.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1704.

DELIGHTFUL. mansion! blest retreat!
Where all is silent, all is sweet!
Here Contemplation prunes her wings,

Music alone, and Poesy,

Triumphant o'er the flame, shall see
The world's last blaze.

The tuneful sisters shall embrace,

And praise and sing, and sing and praise, In never-ceasing choirs, to all eternity.

While May leads on the cheerful hours,
And opens a new world of flowers.
Gay Pleasure here all dresses wears,
And in a thousand shapes appears.
Pursu'd by Fancy, how she roves
Through airy walks, and muscful groves;
Springs in each plant and blossom'd tree,
And charms in all I hear and see!
In this elysium while I stray,

And Nature's fairest face survey,

[shine,

Earth seems new-born, and life more bright;
Time steals away, and smooths his flight;
And Thought's bewilder'd in delight.
Where are the crowds I saw of late?
What are those tales of Europe's fate?
Of Anjou, and the Spanish crown;
And leagues to pull usurpers down?
Of marching armies, distant wars;
Of factions, and domestic jars?
Sure these are last night's dreams, no more;
Or some romance, read lately o'er;
Like Homer's antique tale of Troy,

And powers confederate to destroy

Priam's proud house, the Dardan name,
With him that stole the ravish'd dame,
And, to possess another's right,

Durst the whole world to arms excite.
Come, gentle Sleep, my eye lids close,
These dull impressions help me lose;

Let Fancy take her wing, and find
Some better dreams to sooth my mind;
Or waking let me learn to live;
The prospect will instruction give,

For see, where beauteous Thames does glide
Serene, but with a fruitful tide;
Free from extremes of ebb and flow,
Not swell'd too high, nor sunk too low:
Such let my life's smooth current be,
Till from Time's narrow shore set free,
It mingle with th' eternal sea;
And, there enlarg'd, shall be no more
That trifling thing it was before.

A WISH, TO THE NEW YEAR,
1705.

JANUS! great leader of the rolling year,
Since all that's past no vows can e'er restore,
But joys and griefs alike, once hurry'd o'er,
No longer now deserve a smile or tear;

Close the fantastic scenes-but grace
With brightest aspects thy foreface,
While Time's new offspring hastens to appear.
With lucky omens guide the coming Hours,
Command the circling Seasons to advance,
And form their renovated dance,

With flowing pleasures fraught, and bless'd by

friendly powers,

Thy month, O Janus! gave me first to know
A mortal's trifling cares below;

My race of life began with thee.

Thus far, from great misfortunes free,
Contented, I my lot endure,

Nor Nature's rigid laws arraign,
Nor spurn at common ills in vain,

Which Folly cannot shun, nor wise Reflection cure.

But oh!-more anxious for the year to come,

I would foreknow my future doom,
Then tell me, Janus, canst thou spy
Events that yet in embryo lie

For me, in Time's mysterious womb?
Tell me nor shall I dread to hear,
A thousand accidents severe;

I'll fortify my soul the load to bear,
If Love rejected add not to its weight,

To finish me in woes, and crush me down with Fate.
But if the goddess, in whose charming eyes,

More clearly written than in Fate's dark book, My joy, my grief, my all of future fortune lies; If she must with a less propitious look Forbid my humble sacrifice, Or blast me with a killing frown; If, Janus, this thou seest in store, Cut short my mortal thread, and now Take back the gift thou didst bestow! Here let me lay my burthen down,

And cease to love in vain, and be a wretch no more,

A CANTATA.

SET BY MR. GALLIARD,

WHILE on your blooming charms I gaze,
Your tender lips, your soft enchanting eyes,
And all the Venus in your face,
I'm fill'd with pleasure and surprise:

BRIT. And wakeful Fame defend, AUG. And grateful Truth commend OTH. The generous and the brave!

AUGUSTA.

RECITATIVE,

Now shall Augusta's sons their skill impart,
And summon the dumb sister Art,

In marble life to show

What the patriot was below. Here, let a weeping Cupid stand,

And wound himself with his own dart; There place the ducal crown, the sword, the wand, The mark of Anna's trust and his command.

AIR.

Lofty birth and honours shining Bring a light on noble minds. Every courtly grace combining, Every generous action joining,

With eternal laurel binds. Lofty birth and honours shining Bring a light on noble minds. BRITANNIA.

RECITATIVE.

Behold fair Liberty attend,
And in Devonia's loss bewail a friend.

See o'er his tomb perpetual lamps she lights,
Then, on his urn, the goddess writes:
"Preserve, O Urn! his silent dust,
Who faithful did obey

Princes like Anna, good and just,
Yet scorn'd his freedom to betray;

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MR. MILLS, AT THE QUEEN'S THEATRE, ON
HIS BENEFIT-NIGHT, FEBRUARY 16, 1709, A LITTLE
BEFORE THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUH'S GOING FOR
HOLLAND.

WHETHER Our stage all others does excel
In strength of wit, we'll not presume to tell:
But this, with noble, conscious pride, we'll say,
No theatre such glories can display;
Such worth conspicuous, beauty so divine,
As in one British audience mingled shine.
Who can, without amazement, turn his sight,
And mark the awful circle here to-night?
Warriors, with ever-living laurels, brought
From empires say'd, from battles bravely fought,
Here sit; whose matchless story shall adorn
Scenes yet unwrit, and charm e'en ages yet unborn.
Yet who would not expect such martial fire,
That sees what eyes those gallant deeds inspire?
Valour and Beauty still were Britain's claim,
Both are her great prerogatives of fame;

By both the Muses live, from both they catch their flame.

Then as by you, in solid glory bright,

Our envy'd Isle through Europe spreads her light, And rising honours every year sustain,

And mark the golden tract of Anne's distinguish'd

reign;

So, by your presence here, we'll strive to raise
To nobler heights our action and our plays;
And poets from your favours shall derive
That immortality they boast to give.

40

WRITTEN

IN A WINDOW AT GREENHITHE.

GREAT President of light, and Eye of day,
As through this glass you cast your visual ray,
And view with nuptial joys two brothers blest,
And see us celebrate the genial feast,
Confess, that in your progress round the sphere,
You've found the happiest youths and brightest
beauties here.

THE TOASTERS.

WHILE circling healths inspire your sprightly wit,
And on each glass some beauty's praise is writ,
You ask, my friends, how can my silent Muse
To Montague's soft name a verse refuse?
Bright though she be, of race victorious sprung,
By wits ador'd, and by court-poets sung;
Unmov'd I hear her person call'd divine,
I see her features uninspiring shine;
A softer fair my soul to transport warms,
And, she once nam'd, no other nymph has charms.

TOFTS AND MARGARETTA.

Music has learn'd the discords of the state,
And concerts jar with Whig and Tory hate.
Here Somerset and Devonshire attend
The British Tofts, and every note commend;
To native Merit just, and pleas'd to see
We've Roman arts, from Roman bondage free:
There fam'd L'Epine does equal skill employ,
While listening peers crowd to th' ecstatic joy:
Bedford, to hear her song, his dice forsakes,
And Nottingham is raptur'd when she shakes:
Lull'd statesmen melt away their drowsy cares
Of England's safety, in Italian airs.

Who would not send each year blank passes o'er,
Rather than keep such strangers from our shore?

THE WANDERING BEAUTY,
THE Graces and the wandering Loves
Are fled to distant plains,

To chase the fawns, or, deep in groves,
To wound admiring swains.

With their bright mistress there they stray,

Who turns her careless eyes

From daily triumphs; yet, each day,
Beholds new triumphs in her way,
And conquers while she flies.

But see! implor'd by moving prayers,
To change the lover's pain,

Venus her harness'd doves prepares,

And brings the fair again.

Proud mortals, who this maid pursue,
Think you she'll e'er resign?
Cease, fools, your wishes to renew,
Till she grows flesh and blood like you,
Or you, like her, divine!

DIALOGUE DE L'AMOUR ET DU POETE:
LE P. AMOUR, je ne veux plus aimer;
Jabjure à jamais ton empire:
Mon cœur, lassé de son martire,
A résolu de se calmer.

L'AM. Contre moi, qui peut t' animer?
Iris dans ses bras te rapelle.

LE P. Non, Iris est une infidelle;

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. L'AM. Pour toi, j'ai pris soin d'enflamer Le cœur d'une beauté nouvelle; Daphné.

-LE P. Non, Daphné n'est que belle; Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. L'AM. D'un soupir, tu peux désarmer Dirce, jusqu'ici si sauvage. LE P. Elle n'est plus dans le bel age; Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. L'AM. Mais si je t'aidois à charmer La jeune, la brillante Flore.Tu rougis-vas-tu dire encore, Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. LE P. Non, dieu charmant, daigne former Pour nous une chaine eternelle; tout ce qui n'est point elle, Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.

Mais

pour

DIALOGUE FROM THE FRENCH
OF MONSIEUR DE LA MOTTE.

POET. No, Love-I ne'er will love again;
Thy tyrant empire I abjure:
My weary heart resolves to cure

Its wounds, and ease the raging pain.

LOVE. Fool! canst thou fly my happy reign?
Iris recals thee to her arms.
POET. She's false-I hate her perjur'd charms;
No, Love-I ne'er will love again.

LOVE. But know, for thee I've toil'd to gain

Daphné, the bright, the reigning toast. POET. Daphné but common eyes can boast;

No, Love-I ne'er will love again.
LOVE. She who before scorn'd every swain,
Dircé, shall for one sigh be thine.
POET. Age makes her rays too faintly shine;
No, Love-I ne'er will love again.
LOVE. But should I give thee charms t'obtain
Flora, the young, the bright, the gay!
I see thee blush-now, rebel, say,
No, Love-Ine'er will love again.

POET. No, charming god, prepare a chain
Eternal for that fair and me!

Yet still know every fair but she,
I've vow'd I ne'er will love again,

VENUS AND ADONIS.

A CANTATA.

SET BY MR. HANDEL..

RECITATIVE.

BEHOLD where weeping Venus stands!
What more than mortal grief can move
The bright, th' immortal queen of love?
She beats her breast, she wrings her hands;

And hark, she mourns, but mourns in vain,
Her beauteous, lov'd Adonis, slain.
The hills and woods her loss deplore;
The Naiads hear, and flock around;
And Echo sighs, with mimic sound,
Adonis is no more!

Again the goddess raves, and tears her hair:
Then vents her grief, her love, and her despair,

AIR.

Dear Adonis, Beauty's treasure,
Now my sorrow, once my pleasure;
O return to Venus' arms!
Venus never will forsake thee;

Let the voice of Love o`ertake thee,
And revive thy drooping charms.

RECITATIVE.

Thus, queen of beauty, as the poets feign, While thou didst call the lovely swain; Transform'd by heavenly power,

The lovely swain arose a flower,

And, smiling, grac'd the plain.

And now he blooms, and now he fades;

Venus and gloomy Proserpine

Alternate claim his charms divine;

FAIR rival to the god of day,

shades.

A thousand sprightly fruits we owe;
Gay wit, and moving eloquence,
And every art t' improve the sense,
And every grace that shines below.
Not Phoebus does our songs inspire,
Nor did Cyllenius form the lyre,
'Tis thou art music's living spring;
To thee the poet tunes his lays,
And, sweetly warbling Beauty's praise,
Describes the power that makes him sing.
Painters from thee their skill derive,
By thee their works to ages live,
For cv'n thy shadows give surprise,
As when we view in crystal streams
The morning Sun, and rising beams,
That seem to shoot from other skies.
Enchanting vision! who can be
Unmov'd that turns his eyes on thee?
Yet brighter still thy glories shine,
And double charms thy power improve,
When Beauty, dress'd in smiles of Love,
Grows, like its parent Heaven, divine!

MYRA.

A CANTATA.

SET BY DR, PEPUSCH,

AIR.

Love frowns in beauteous Myra's eyes; Ah, nymph! those cruel looks give o'er. While Love is frowning, Beauty dies, And you can charm no more.,

RECITATIVE.

Mark, how, when sullen clouds appear,
And wintry storms deface the year,
The prudent cranes no longer stay,
But take the wing, and through the air,
From the cold region fly away,

And far o'er land and seas to warmer climes repair.