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 44 DRYDEN

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 their hair, 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 valiant 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: 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.

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