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 42 DRYDEN

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew

the slain!

The master saw the madness rise, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And while he heaven and earth defied Changed his hand, and checked his pride. He chose a mournful Muse Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius great and good,

By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood; Deserted at his utmost need By those his former bounty fed, On the bare earth exposed he lies With not a friend to close his eyes. With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, Revolving in his altered soul

The various turns of Chance below;

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