Thus long ago, Ere heaving bellows learned 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. At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 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. GRAND CHORUS At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 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. ACHITOPHEL[A] From 'Absalom and Achitophel' This plot, which failed for want of common-sense, Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence: For as when raging fevers boil the blood, The standing lake soon floats into a flood, And every hostile humor, which before Slept quiet in its channels, bubbles o'er; So several factions from this first ferment Work up to foam, and threat the government. Some by their friends, more by themselves thought wise, Opposed the power to which they could not rise. Some had in courts been great, and thrown from thence, Like fiends were hardened in impenitence. Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown From pardoned rebels kinsmen to the throne, Were raised in power and public office high; Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie.