TIR. Choose the darkest part o' th' grove, Such as ghosts at noonday love.

Dig a trench, and dig it nigh Where the bones of Laius lie; Altars raised, of turf or stone, Will th' infernal powers have none, Answer me, if this be done?

ALL PR. 'Tis done.

TIR. Is the sacrifice made fit?

Draw her backward to the pit: Draw the barren heifer back; Barren let her be, and black.

Cut the curl'd hair that grows Full betwixt her horns and brows: And turn your faces from the sun, Answer me, if this be done?

ALL PR. 'Tis done.

TIR. Pour in blood, and blood-like wine, To Mother Earth and Proserpine: Mingle milk into the stream; Feast the ghosts that love the steam: s.n.a.t.c.h a brand from funeral pile: Toss it in to make them boil; And turn your faces from the sun, Answer me, if this be done?

ALL PR. 'Tis done.

XVI.

SONGS IN ALBION AND ALBANIUS.

I.

Cease, Augusta! cease thy mourning, Happy days appear, G.o.dlike Albion is returning, Loyal hearts to cheer!

Every grace his youth adorning, Glorious as the star of morning, Or the planet of the year.

II.

Albion, by the nymph attended, Was to Neptune recommended, Peace and plenty spread the sails: Venus, in her sh.e.l.l before him, From the sands in safety bore him, And supplied Etesian gales.

Archon on the sh.o.r.e commanding, Lowly met him at his landing, Crowds of people swarm'd around; Welcome, rang like peals of thunder, Welcome, rent the skies asunder, Welcome, heaven and earth resound.

III.

Infernal offspring of the Night, Debarr'd of heaven your native right, And from the glorious fields of light, Condemn'd in shades to drag the chain, And fill with groans the gloomy plain; Since pleasures here are none below, Be ill our good, our joy be woe; Our work t' embroil the worlds above, Disturb their union, disunite their love, And blast the beauteous frame of our victorious foe.

IV.

See the G.o.d of seas attends thee, Nymphs divine, a beauteous train: All the calmer gales befriend thee In thy pa.s.sage o'er the main: Every maid her locks is binding, Every Triton's horn is winding, Welcome to the watery plain.

V.

Albion, loved of G.o.ds and men, Prince of Peace too mildly reigning, Cease thy sorrow and complaining, Thou shalt be restored again: Albion, loved of G.o.ds and men.

Still thou art the care of heaven, In thy youth to exile driven: Heaven thy ruin then prevented, Till the guilty land repented: In thy age, when none could aid thee, Foes conspired, and friends betray'd thee.

To the brink of danger driven, Still thou art the care of heaven.

XVII.

SONGS IN KING ARTHUR.

Where a battle is supposed to be given behind the scenes, with drums, trumpets, and military shouts and excursions; after which, the Britons, expressing their joy for the victory, sing this song of triumph.

I.

Come, if you dare, our trumpets sound; Come, if you dare, the foes rebound: We come, we come, we come, we come, Says the double, double, double beat of the thundering drum.

Now they charge on amain, Now they rally again: The G.o.ds from above the mad labour behold, And pity mankind, that will perish for gold.

The fainting Saxons quit their ground, Their trumpets languish in the sound: They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly; Victoria, Victoria, the bold Britons cry.

Now the victory's won, To the plunder we run: We return to our la.s.ses like fortunate traders, Triumphant with spoils of the vanquish'd invaders.

II.

MAN SINGS.

O sight, the mother of desires, What charming objects dost thou yield!

'Tis sweet, when tedious night expires, To see the rosy morning gild The mountain-tops, and paint the field!

But when Clarinda comes in sight, She makes the summer's day more bright; And when she goes away, 'tis night.

CHORUS.

When fair Clarinda comes in sight, &c.

WOMAN SINGS.

'Tis sweet the blushing morn to view; And plains adorn'd with pearly dew: But such cheap delights to see, Heaven and nature Give each creature; They have eyes, as well as we;

This is the joy, all joys above, To see, to see, That only she, That only she we love!

CHORUS.

This is the joy, all joys above, &c.

III.

Two daughters of this aged stream are we; And both our sea-green locks have comb'd for thee; Come bathe with us an hour or two, Come naked in, for we are so: What danger from a naked foe?

Come bathe with us, come bathe, and share What pleasures in the floods appear; We'll beat the waters till they bound, And circle round, around, around, And circle round, around.

IV.

Ye bl.u.s.tering brethren of the skies, Whose breath has ruffled all the watery plain, Retire, and let Britannia rise, In triumph o'er the main.

Serene and calm, and void of fear, The Queen of Islands must appear: Serene and calm, as when the Spring The new-created world began, And birds on boughs did softly sing Their peaceful homage paid to man; While Eurus did his blasts forbear, In favour of the tender year.