by Homer
Debased to each obscene and impious use,
Whose harmony was first ordain’d above, 60
For tongues of angels and for hymns of love!
O wretched we! why were we hurried down
This lubrique and adulterate age
(Nay, added fat pollutions of our own),
To increase the streaming ordures of the stage? 65
What can we say to excuse our second fall?
Let this thy Vestal, Heaven, atone for all!
Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil’d,
Unmix’d with foreign filth, and undefiled;
Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. 70
Art she had none, yet wanted none,
For Nature did that want supply:
So rich in treasures of her own,
She might our boasted stores defy:
Such noble vigour did her verse adorn, 75
That it seem’d borrow’d, where ’twas only born.
Her morals, too, were in her bosom bred,
By great examples daily fed,
What in the best of books, her father’s life, she read.
And to be read herself she need not fear; 80
Each test, and every light, her Muse will bear,
Though Epictetus with his lamp were there.
Even love (for love sometimes her Muse exprest)
Was but a lambent flame which play’d about her breast,
Light as the vapours of a morning dream; 85
So cold herself, whilst she such warmth exprest,
’Twas Cupid bathing in Diana’s stream. …
Now all those charms, that blooming grace,
The well-proportion’d shape, and beauteous face,
Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes; 90
In earth the much-lamented virgin lies.
Not wit, nor piety could fate prevent;
Nor was the cruel destiny content
To finish all the murder at a blow,
To sweep at once her life and beauty too; 95
But, like a harden’d felon, took a pride
To work more mischievously slow,
And plunder’d first, and then destroy’d.
O double sacrilege on things divine,
To rob the relic, and deface the shrine! 100
But thus Orinda died:
Heaven, by the same disease did both translate;
As equal were their souls, so equal was their fate.
Meantime, her warlike brother on the seas
His waving streamers to the winds displays, 105
And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays.
Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear,
The winds too soon will waft thee here!
Slack all thy sails, and fear to come,
Alas! thou know’st not, thou art wreck’d at home! 110
No more shalt thou behold thy sister’s face,
Thou hast already had her last embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou kenn’st from far,
Among the Pleiads a new kindled star,
If any sparkles than the rest more bright, 115
’Tis she that shines in that propitious light.
When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound,
To raise the nations under ground;
When, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat,
The judging God shall close the book of Fate, 120
And there the last assizes keep
For those who wake and those who sleep;
When rattling bones together fly
From the four corners of the sky;
When sinews o’er the skeletons are spread, 125
Those clothed with flesh, and life inspires the dead;
The sacred poets first shall hear the sound,
And foremost from the tomb shall bound,
For they are cover’d with the lightest ground;
And straight, with inborn vigour, on the wing, 130
Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing.
There thou, sweet Saint, before the quire shall go,
As harbinger of Heaven, the way to show,
The way which thou so well hast learn’d below.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Song to a Fair Young Lady, Going Out of the Town in the Spring
John Dryden (1639–1701)
ASK not the cause why sullen Spring
So long delays her flowers to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing,
And winter storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone; and fate provides 5
To make it Spring where she resides.
Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;
She cast not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair
To sigh, to languish, and to die: 10
Ah! how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure?
Great God of Love, why hast thou made
A face that can all hearts command,
That all religions can invade, 15
And change the laws of every land?
Where thou hadst placed such power before,
Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.
When Chloris to the temple comes,
Adoring crowds before her fall; 20
She can restore the dead from tombs
And every life but mine recall.
I only am by Love design’d
To be the victim for mankind.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Song for St. Cecilia’s Day
1687
John Dryden (1639–1701)
FROM Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
This universal frame began:
When Nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay
And could not heave her head, 5
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
‘Arise, ye more than dead!’
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry
In order to their stations leap,
And Music’s power obey. 10
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began:
From harmony to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man. 15
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
When Jubal struck the chorded shell
His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell
To worship that celestial sound. 20
Less than a god they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that shell
That spoke so sweetly and so well.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
The trumpet’s loud clangor 25
Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thundering drum 30
Cries ‘Hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge, ’tis too late to retreat!’
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers, 35
Whose dirge is whisper’d by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion 40
For the fair disdainful dame.
But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach
The sacred organ’s praise?
Notes inspiring holy love, 45
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the savage race,
And trees unrooted
left their place
Sequacious of the lyre: 50
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher;
When to her Organ vocal breath was given
An Angel heard, and straight appear’d —
Mistaking Earth for Heaven.
Grand Chorus
As from the power of sacred lays 55
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator’s praise
To all the blest above;
So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 60
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Alexander’s Feast
Or the Power of Music; An Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia’s Day
John Dryden (1639–1701)
I
‘T WAS at the royal feast, for Persia won
By Philip’s warlike son:
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne: 5
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,
Sate like a blooming Eastern bride 10
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! 15
CHORUS
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 20
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, 25
Who left his blissful seats above,
Such is the pow’r of mighty love.
A dragon’s fiery form belied the god:
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press’d; 30
And 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.
The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound;
“A present deity,” they shout around; 35
“A present deity,” the vaulted roofs rebound:
With ravish’d ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod, 40
And seems to shake the spheres.
CHORUS
With ravish’d ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod, 45
And seems to shake the spheres.
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; 50
Flush’d with a purple grace
He shews his honest face:
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes.
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain; 55
Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain. 60
CHORUS
Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain. 65
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; 70
And, while he heav’n and earth defied,
Chang’d his hand, and check’d his pride.
He chose a mournful Muse,
Soft pity to infuse.
He sung Darius great and good, 75
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, 80
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos’d he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.
— With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter’d soul 85
The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole;
And tears began to flow.
CHORUS
Revolving in his alter’d soul
The various turns of chance below; 90
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:
‘T was but a kindred-sound to move, 95
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth’d his soul to pleasures.
“War,” he sung, “is toil and trouble;
Honor, but an empty bubble; 100
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, 105
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 the fair 110
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 oppress’d,
The vanquish’d victor sunk upon her breast. 115
CHORUS
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz’d on the 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: 120
At length, with love and wine at once oppress’d,
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, 125
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. 130
“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! 135
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: 140
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian
abodes,
And glitt’ring temples of their hostile gods!” 145
— The princes applaud, with a furious joy;
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. 150
CHORUS
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, 155
Ere heaving bellows learn’d to blow,
While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus, to his breathing flute,
And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 160
At last, 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, 165
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. 170
GRAND CHORUS
At last, 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, 175
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. 180
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
On Milton
John Dryden (1639–1701)
THREE poets, in three distant ages born,