114

SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA

Where the remote Bermudas ride
In the ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that row'd along
The listening winds received this song.

What should we do but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze
Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,
That lift the deep upon their backs,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own ?
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage :
He gave us this eternal spring
Which here enamels everything,
And sends the fowls to us in care
On daily visits through the air.
He hangs in shades the orange bright
Like golden lamps in a green night,
And does in the pomegranates close
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows :
He makes the figs our mouths to meet,
And throws the melons at our feet;
But apples plants of such a price,
No tree could ever bear them twice.
With cedars chosen by His hand
From Lebanon He stores the land ;
And makes the hollow seas that roar
Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospel's pearl upon our coast;
And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound His name.
O let our voice His praise exalt
Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,
Which then perhaps rebounding may
Echo beyond the Mexique bay !!
-Thus sung they in the English boat
A holy and a cheerful note :

And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.

A. MARVELL

115

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse ! Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; And to our high-raised phantasy present That undisturbed Song of pure concent Ay sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne

To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee ; Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow; And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,

Hymns devout and holy psalms

Singing everlastingly :
Thus we on earth, with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise ;
As once we did, till disproportion’d sin
Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.

O may we soon again renew that Song,
And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long

To His celestial concert us unite,
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light !

J. MILTON

116

ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER

OF MUSIC
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won

By Philip's warlike son-
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne;
His valiant peers were placed around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound
(So should desert in arms be crown'd) ;
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate like a blooming eastern bride
In flower 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 !

Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd 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 spires he rode
When he to fair Olympia prest,
And while he sought her snowy breast,
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd 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 !

With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god ;
Affects to nod
And seems to shake the spheres.

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.

Soothed 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 Heaven and Earth defied
Changed 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 weltering in his blood;
Deserted, at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed ;
On the bare earth exposed he lies
With not a friend to close his eyes.
-With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,

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.

The mighty master smiled to see That love was in the next degree ; 'Twas but a kindred sound to move, For pity melts the mind to love. Softly sweet, in Lydian measures Soon he soothed 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 applaure; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cau e. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused 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.

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 raised up his head : As awaked from the dead And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise ! See the snakes that they rear How they hiss in their hair,