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 oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. CHORUS. 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, At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, 6 Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound 128 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, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due 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 ; 14 And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy. CHORUS. And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Thais 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, 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. Or both divide the crown; GRAND CHORUS. At last, divine Cecilia came, 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; XXI. THE SECULAR MASQUE1 Enter JANUS. Janus. CHRONOS, Chronos, mend thy pace; Around the radiant belt has run Behold, behold the goal in sight, Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. Enter CHRONOS, with a scythe in his hand, and a globe on his back; which he sets down at his entrance. Chronos. Weary, weary of my weight, Let me, let me drop my freight, And leave the world behind. I could not bear, Another year, The load of human kind. 10 This Masque, with the song of a scholar and his mistress, was performed in 1700, for the author's benefit, with the play of the Pilgrim, altered by Sir John Vanbrugh, his fortune and health being at that time in a declining state. Enter MOMUS, laughing. Momus. Ha! ha ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done To lay down thy pack, And lighten thy back. The world was a fool, ere since it begun, Can hinder the crimes, Or mend the bad times, 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. Chorus of all three. "Tis better to laugh than to cry. Chronos. Old time begin the show, That he may see, in every scene, What changes in this age have been. [Horns, or hunting-music within.] Enter DIANA. Diana. With horns and with hounds, I waken the day, 20 30 I tuck up my robe, and am buskin'd soon, the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. Chorus of all. With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. Janus. Then our age was in its prime: Chronos. Free from rage: Diana. And free from crime. Momus. A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. Chorus of all. Then our age was in its prime, 40 Free from rage, and free from crime, Enter MARS. Mars. Inspire the vocal brass, inspire; Arms and honour, Arms and honour, Set the martial mind on fire, Mars has look'd the sky to red; In woodland walks, no more is seen; 50 The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye. Chorus of all. Plenty, peace, &c. Mars. Sound the trumpet, beat the drum ; Through all the world around, Sound a reveillie, sound, sound, The warrior god is come. Chorus of all. Sound the trumpet, &c. Momus. Thy sword within the scabbard keep, Better the world were fast asleep, Than kept awake by thee. The fools are only thinner, With all our cost and care; 60 |