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 the air, 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, To the valient crew! 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! _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 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. _Chorus._ Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown: He raised a mortal to the skies! She drew an angel down! JOHN DRYDEN. ―――― SHAKESPEARE’S FEAST. _An Ode on the recent rehearsal in the Town Hall of Stratford._ I. ’Twas at the solemn feast, for laurels won By William, old John Shakespeare’s son, Aloft in awful state The Mayor of Stratford sate, Rais’d on a wool-pack throne: His aldermen were plac’d around, Their brows with spreading antlers crown’d, (So city spouses should be found) The lovely May’ress by his side Sat like a plump High-German bride, Not less for fat renown’d, than pride. Happy, happy, happy May’r! None but the fat, None but the fat, None but the fat deserve the bouncing fair. II.