Page:Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics.djvu/65

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Second
49
The woes of hopeless lovers, 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 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,Notes that wing their heavenly waysTo mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the savage race,And trees uprooted left their placeSequacious of the lyre:But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:When to her Organ vocal breath was givenAn Angel heard, and straight appear’d—Mistaking Earth for Heaven!
Grand ChorusAs from the power of sacred laysThe spheres began to move,And sung the great Creator’s praiseTo all the blest above;So when the last and dreadful hourThis crumbling pageant shall devour,The trumpet shall be heard on high,The dead shall live, the living die,And Music shall untune the sky.J. Dryden


lxiv

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT

Avenge, O Lord! thy slaughter’d Saints, whose bones Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold;Even them who kept thy truth so pure of oldWhen all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones
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