Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/512

 JOHN DRYDEN

The double double double beat Of the thundering drum Cries Hark 1 the foes come; Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat! The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers 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 O, what art can teach, What human voice can reach, The sacred organ's praise^ Notes inspiring holy love, Notes that wing their heavenly ways

To mend the choirs above. Orpheus could lead the savage race; And trees uniootcd left their place,

Sequacious of the lyre,

But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher: When to her organ vocal breath was given, An angel heard, and straight appear'd Mistaking Earth for Heaven.

GRAND CHORUS As from the powei of sacred lays

The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise

To all the Blest above;

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