Page:Acharnians and two other plays (1909).djvu/188

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We see here a comic imitation of the Tragic Choruses of Phrynichus, a poet older than Æschylus, of whom Aristophanes always speaks with respect, as an improver of music and poetry—arts which in the judgment of the ancients were deemed inseparable; or if disjoined essentially defective and imperfect.

Muse, that in the deep recesses

Of the forest's dreary shade,

Vocal with our wild addresses;

Or in the lonely lowly glade,

Attending near, art pleased to hear,

Our humble bill tuneful and shrill.

When, to the name of omnipotent Pan,

Our notes we raise, or sing in praise,

Of mighty Cybele, from whom we began;

Mother of nature, and every creature,

Winged or unwinged, of birds or man.

Aid and attend, and chant with me

The music of Phrynichus, open and plain,

The first that attempted a loftier strain,

Ever busy like the bee, with the sweets of harmony.

Is there any person present sitting a spectator here,

Who desires to pass his time, freely without restraint or fear?

Should he wish to colonise; he never need be checked or chid,

For the trifling indiscretions, which the testy laws forbid.

Parricides are in esteem: among the birds we deem it fair,

A combat honourably fought betwixt a game cock and his heir!

There the branded runagate, branded and mottled in the face,

Will be deemed a motley bird; a motley mark is no disgrace.

Spintharus, the Phrygian born, will pass a muster there with ease,

Counted as a Phrygian fowl; and even Execestides,