The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won,
By Philip's warlike son:
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sat
On his imperial throne.
His valiant peers were plac'd around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound;
(So should desert in arms be crown'd,)
The lovely Thais by his side,
Sat like a blooming eastern bride,
In flow'r 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.

II.

Timotheus plac'd on high,
Amid the tuneful choir,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heav'nly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seat above;
(Such is the pow'r of mighty love)
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god;
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia prest,
A while he sought her snowy breast;
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the world.
A present deity! they shout around;
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound:
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears;
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.

205

III.

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:
Flush'd 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 soldier's pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

IV.

Sooth'd 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 heav'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd 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 welt'ring in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
Without a friend to close his eyes.
With downcast looks the joyless victor sat,
Revolving in his alter'd soul,
The various turns of chance below;
And now and then a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

V.

The mighty master smil'd to see
That love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.

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Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais sits beside thee;
Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applause,
So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on his fair,
Who caus'd his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again.
At length, with love and wine at once opprest,
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

VI.

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.
Hark, hark the horrid sound
Has rais'd up his head,
As awak'd from the dead,
And amaz'd he stares around.
Revenge, revenge! Timotheus cries,
See the furies arise!
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in their hair!
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghostly band,
Each a torch in his hand!
These are Grecian ghosts that in battle were slain.
Whose bodies remain
Unburied on the plain:
Give the vengeance due,
To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
The princes applaud with a furious joy,

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And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
Thais led the way,
To light him to his prey,
And like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

VII.

Thus long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus with his breathing flute,
And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
But when divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame,
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies,
She drew an angel down.