VENUS! thy throne of beauty now resign !
Behold on Earth a conquering fair,
Who more deserves Love's crown to wear
Not thy own star so bright in Heaven does shine.
Ask of thy son her name, who with his dart
Has deeply grav'd it in my heart;
Or ask the god of tuneful sound,

Who sings it to his lyre,

And does this maid inspire

With his own art, to give a surer wound.

AIR.

Hark! the groves her songs repeat;
Echo lurks in hollow springs,
And, transported while she sings,
Learns her voice, and grows more sweet;
Could Narcissus see or hear her,
From his fountain he would fly,
And, with awe approaching near her,
For a real beauty die.

Hark! the groves her songs repeat;
Echo lurks in hollow springs,
And, transported while she sings,
Learns her voice, and grows more sweet.

RECITATIVE.

Yet, Venus, once again my suit attend ; And when from Heaven you shall descend,

CLAUDIANUS. CLAU

IN EPITHALAMIO HONORII ET MARIA."

CUNCTATUR Stupefacta Venus. Nunc ora puellæ,
Nunc flavam niveo miratur vertice matrem.
Hæc modo crescenti, plenæ par altera lunæ :
Assurgit ceu fortè minor sub matre virenti
Laurus: & ingentes ramos, olimque futuras
Promittit jam parva comas: vel flore sub uno,
Ceu geminæ Pæstana rosæ per jugera regnant.
Hæc largo matura die, saturataque vernis
Roribus, indulget spatio: latet altera nodo,
Nec teneris audet foliis admittere soles.

TRANSLATED.

Venus coming to a nuptial ceremony, and entering the room, sees the bride and her mother sitting together, &c. On which occasion Claudian makes the following description.

THE goddess paus'd; and, held in deep amaze,
Now views the mother's, now the daughter's face;
Different in each, yet equal beauty glows,
That, the full moon, and this, the crescent shows:
Thus, rais'd beneath its parent tree, is seen
The laurel shoot, while, in its early green,
Thick-sprouting leaves and branches are essay'd,
And all the promise of a future shade.
Or, blooming thus, in happy Pæstan fields,
One common stock two lovely roses yields;
Mature by vernal dews, this dares display
Its leaves full blown, and boldly meets the day;
That, folded in its tender nonage, lies
A beauteous bud, nor yet admits the skies.

THE SOLDIER IN LOVE.
A CANTATA.

SET WITH SYMPHONIES BY MR. PEPUSCH.

AIR.

WHY, too amorous hero! why
Dost thou the war forego,
At Celia's feet to lie,

And sighing tell thy woe?
Can you think that sneaking air
Fit to move th' unpitying fair?
She laughs to see thee trifle so.
Why, too amorous hero! why
Dost thou the war forego,
At Celia's feet to lie,

And sighing tell thy woe?

RECITATIVE.

Cleander heard not this advice,

Nor would his languishing refrain.

But while to Celia once he pray'd in vain, By chance his image in a glass he spies, And, blushing at the sight, he grew a man again.

AIR. WITH A TRUMPET.

Hark! the trumpet sounds to arms!
I come, I come, the warrior cries,
And from scornful Celia flies,
To court Victoria's charms.
Celia beholds his alter'd brow,
And would regain her lover now.
Hark! the trumpet sounds to arms!
I come, I come, the warrior cries,
And from scornful Celia flics,
To court Victoria's charms.

PERFORMED AT STATIONER'S HALL, 1703.
Descende Cœlo, & dic age tibiâ,
Regina, longum, Calliope, melos,
Seu voce nunc mavis acutâ
Seu fidibus Cytharâve Phœbi.

[Begin with a chorus.] AWAKE, coelestial Harmony! Awake, cœlestial Harmony! Turn thy vocal sphere around, Goddess of melodious sound. Let the trumpet's shrill voice,

And the drum's thundering noise,

Kor.

Rouze every dull mortal from sorrows profound

See, see!

The mighty power of Harmony!

Behold how soon its charms can chase

Grief and gloom from every face!

How swift its raptures fly,

And thrill thro' every soul, and brighten every eye!

Proceed, sweet charmer of the ear!
Proceed; and through the mellow flute,
The moving lyre,

And solitary lute,

Melting airs, soft joys inspire: Airs for drooping Hope to hear, Melting as a lover's prayer; Joys to flatter dull Despair, And softly sooth the amorous fire.

CHORUS.

Melting airs, soft joys inspire:
Airs for drooping Hope to hear,
Melting as a lover's prayer;
Joys to flatter dull Despair,
And softly sooth the amorous fire.
Now let the sprightly violin
A louder strain begin;
And now

Let the deep-mouth'd organ blow
Swell it high, and sink it low.

Hark! how the treble and base
In wanton fugues each other chase,
And swift divisions run their airy race!
Through all the travers'd scale they fly,
In winding labyrinths of harmony:

By turns they rise and fall, by turns we live and die.

Mean while a thousand harps were play'd on high;

"Be this thy measur'd bound,"
Was echo'd all around;

"And now arise, ye Earth, and Seas, and Sky!"
A thousand voices made reply,
“Arise, ye Earth, and Seas, and Sky!"
What can Music's power control?

When Nature's sleeping soul
Perceiv'd th' enchanting sound,
It wak'd, and shook off foul Deformity;
The mighty melody

Nature's secret chains unbound;
And Earth arose, and Seas, and Sky.
Aloft expanded spheres were slung,
With shining luminaries hung;
A vast Creation stood display'd,
By Heaven's inspiring Music made.

CHORUS.

O wondrous force of Harmony!

Divinest art, whose fame shall never cease!

Thy honour'd voice proclaim'd the Saviour's birth; When Heaven vouchsaf'd to treat with Earth,

Music was herald of the peace:

Thy voice could best the joyful tidings tell;
Immortal Mercy! boundless Love!
A God descending from above,
To conquer Death and Hell.

There yet remains an hour of Fate,

When Music must again its charms employ;
The trumpet's sound

Shall call the numerous nations under ground.
The numerous nations straight

Appear; and some with grief, and some with joy,

Their final sentence wait.

GRAND CHORUS.

Then other arts shall pass away:

Proud Architecture shall in ruins lie,

And Painting fade and die,

RECITATIVE.

The river's echoing banks with pleasure did prolong
The sweetly-warbled sounds, nd murmur'd with the
Daphne fled swifter, in despair, [song.

To 'scape the god's embrace:
And to the genius of the place
She sigh'd this wondrous prayer:

AIR.

Father Peneus, hear me, aid me!
Let some sudden change invade me;
Fix me rooted on thy shore.
Cease, Apollo, to persuade me;
I am Daphne now no more.
Father Peneus, hear me, aid me!
Let some sudden change invade ine;
Fix me rooted on thy shore.

RECITATIVE.

Apollo wondering stood to see

The nymph transform'd into a tree.
Vain were his lyre, his voice, his tuncful art,

His passion, and his race divine;

Nor could th' eternal beams, that round his temples Melt the cold virgin's frozen heart.

AIR.

Nature alone can love inspire;

Art is vain to move desiré. If Nature once the fair incline, To their own passion they resign. Nature alone can love inspire; Art is vain to move desire.

A THOUGHT IN A GARDEN. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1704. DELIGHTFUL mansion! blest retreat! Where all is silent, all is sweet! Here Contemplation prunes her wings,

Music alone, and Poesy,

Triumphant o'er the flame, shall see

The world's last blaze.

The tuneful sisters shall embrace,

And praise and sing, and sing and praise, In never-ceasing choirs, to all eternity.

While May leads on the cheerful hours,
And opens a new world of flowers.
Gay Pleasure here all dresses wears,
And in a thousand shapes appears.
Pursu'd by Fancy, how she roves
Through airy walks, and museful groves;
Springs in cach plant and blossom'd tree,
And charms in all I hear and see!
In this elysium while I stray,

And Nature's fairest face survey,

[shine,

Earth seems new-born, and life more bright;
Time steals away, and smooths his flight;
And Thought's bewilder'd in delight.
Where are the crowds I saw of late?
What are those tales of Europe's fate?
Of Anjou, and the Spanish crown;
And leagues to pull usurpers down?
Of marching armies, distant wars;
Of factions, and domestic jars?
Sure these are last night's dreams, no more;
Or some romance, read lately o'er;

Like Homer's antique tale of Troy,

And powers confederate to destroy

Priam's proud house, the Dardan name,

With him that stole the ravish'd dame,

And, to possess another's right,

Durst the whole world to arms excite.
Come, gentle Sleep, my eye lids close,
These dull impressions help the loss;

Let Fancy take her wing, and find
Some better dreams to sooth my mind;
Or waking let me learn to live;
The prospect will instruction give.
For see, where beauteous Thames does glide
Serene, but with a fruitful tide;
Free from extremes of ebb and flow,
Not swell'd too high, nor sunk too low:
Such let my life's smooth current be,
Till from Time's narrow shore set free,
It mingle with th' eternal sea;
And, there enlarg'd, shall be no more
That trifling thing it was before,

A WISH, TO THE NEW YEAR,

1705.

JANUS! great leader of the rolling year,
Since all that's past no vows can e'er restore,
But joys and griefs alike, once hurry'd o'er,
No longer now deserve a smile or tear;

Close the fantastic scenes--but grace
With brightest aspects thy foreface,
While Time's new ofispring hastens to appear.
With lucky omens guide the coming Hours,
Command the circling Seasons to advance,
And form their renovated dance,

With flowing pleasures fraught, and bless'd by friendly powers.

Thy month, O Janus! gave me first to know
A mortal's trifling cares below;

My race of life began with thee.

Thus far, from great misfortunes free,

Contented, I my lot endure,

Nor Nature's rigid laws arraign,

Nor spurn at common ills in vain,

Which Folly cannot shun, nor wise Reflection cure.

But oh!--more anxious for the year to come,

I would foreknow my future doom,
Then tell me, Janus, canst thou spy
Events that yet in embryo lie

For me, in Time's mysterious womb?
Tell me-nor shall I dread to hear,
A thousand accidents severe;

I'll fortify my soul the load to bear,
If Love rejected add not to its weight,

To finish me in woes, and crush me down with Fate.
But if the goddess, in whose charming eyes,

More clearly written than in Fate's dark book, My joy, my grief, my all of future fortune lies; If she must with a less propitious look

Forbid my humble sacrifice,
Or blast me with a killing frown;
If, Janus, this thou seest in store,
Cut short my mortal thread, and now
Take back the gift thou didst bestow!
Here let me lay my burthen down,

And cease to love in vain, and be a wretch no more.

A CANTATA.

SET BY MR. GALLIARD,

WHILE on your blooming charms I gaze, Your tender lips, your soft enchanting eyes, And all the Venus in your face,

I'm fill'd with pleasure and surprise:

BRIT. And wakeful Fame defend, AUG. And grateful Truth commend

BOTH. The generous and the brave!

AUGUSTA,

RECITATIVE,

Now shall Augusta's sons their skill impart,
And summon the dumb sister Art,
In marble life to show

What the patriot was below.

Here, let a weeping Cupid stand,

And wound himself with his own dart;

There place the ducal crown, the sword, the wand, The mark of Anna's trust and his command,

AIR,

Lofty birth and honours shining Bring a light on noble minds. Every courtly grace combining, Every generous action joining,

With eternal laurel binds. Lofty birth and honours shining Bring a light on noble minds, BRITANNIA,

RECITATIVE.

Behold fair Liberty attend,
And in Devonia's loss bewail a friend,

See o'er his tomb perpetual lamps she lights,
Then, on his urn, the goddess writes:
"Preserve, O Urn! his silent dust,
Who faithful did obey
Princes like Anna, good and just,
Yet scorn'd his freedom to betray;

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MR. MILLS, AT THE QUEEN'S THEATRE, ON HIS BENEFIT-NIGHT, FEBRUARY 16, 1709, A LITTLE BEFORE THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUH'S GOING FOR HOLLAND.

WHETHER Our stage all others does excel

In strength of wit, we'll not presume to tell:
But this, with noble, conscious pride, we'll say,
No theatre such glories can display;
Such worth conspicuous, beauty so divine,
As in one British audience mingled shine.
Who can, without amazement, turn his sight,
And mark the awful circle here to-night?
Warriors, with ever-living laurels, brought
From empires sav'd, from battles bravely fought,
Here sit; whose matchless story shall adorn
Scenes yet unwrit, and charm e'en ages yet unborn.
Yet who would not expect such martial fire,
That sees what eyes those gallant deeds inspire?
Valour and Beauty still were Britain's claim,
Both are her great prerogatives of fame;

By both the Muses live, from both they catch their flame.

Then as by you, in solid glory bright,

Our envy'd Isle through Europe spreads her light, And rising honours every year sustain,

And mark the golden tract of Anne's distinguish'd