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Hark, hark! the horrid sound
As awaked from the dead,
And amazed, he stares around.
See the Furies arise,
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes.
Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand!
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,
And unburied remain,
Inglorious on the plain;
To the valiant crew:
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
The princes applaud, with a furious joy;
And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thaïs led the way,
To light him to his prey,
And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.
Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute:
Timotheus to the breathing flute
And sounding lyre
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
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 raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.
AT the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
"Ah, why thus abandon'd to darkness and woe, Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain? For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. Yet if pity inspire thee, oh! cease not thy lay,
Mourn, sweetest complainer, Man calls thee to mourn: O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass awayFull quickly they pass, but they never return.
"Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky,
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
""Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more;
Kind nature the embryo blossom will save.-
YE shepherds, so cheerful and gay,
Nor talk of the change that ye
-I have left my dear Phyllis behind.
Now I know what it is to have strove
And to leave her we love and admire.
I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell.
Since Phyllis vouchsafed me a look,
I prized every hour that went by,
But why do I languish in vain?
Why wander thus pensively here?
The pride of the valley, is flown!
When forced the fair nymph to forego,
So sweetly she bade me adieu,