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Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleas'd in the filent shade with empty praise; 430
Enough for me, that to the liftning swains
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.

Ο D Ε

Ο Ν

Sr. CECILI A's D AY,

MDCC VIII.

AND OTHER

PIECES for MUSIC.

.

F 3

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ODE for MUSIC

ON

ST. CECILIA's

DAY.

a

.1.
Efcend, ye Nine! descend and fing;

The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the founding lyre !
In a sadly-pleasing strain

S
Let the warbling lute complain :

Let the loud trumpet sound,
'Till the roofs all around
The shrill echos rebound :
F 4

While Ode for Music.] 'This is one of the most artful as well as fublime of our Poet's smaller compositions. The first ftanza is a description of the various tones and measures in music. The second relates their power over the several passions in general. The third, their use in inspiring the Heroic passions in particular. The fourth, fifth, and foxth, their power over all nature in the fable of Orpheus's expedition to hell; which subject of illuftration arose naturally out of the preceding mention of the Argonautic expedition, where Orpheus gives an example of the use of Music to inspire the heroic passions. The seventh and laft concludes in praise of Music, and the advantages of the sacred above the prophane.

1

While in more lengthen'd notes and Now, 10
The deep, majeitic, folemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers soft and clear,
Gently steal upon the ear ;
Now louder, and yet louder rife
And fill with spreading rounds the skies;

15 Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats ;

'Till, by degrees, remote and fmall,

The strains decay,
And melt away,

20 In a dying, dying fall.

II.
By Music, minds an equal témpér know,

Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, afluasive voice applies;

25 Or, when the soul is press’d with cares,

Exalts her in-enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
Melancholy lifts her head,

30
Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

List’ning Envy drops her snakes ;
Intestine war no more our Passions wage,
And giddy Factions hear away their rage. 35

III.
But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms,
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms !

So

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