Poem by John Dryden

Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music

Twas at the royal feast for Persia won 
By Philip's warlike son-  
Aloft in awful state 
The godlike hero sate 
On his imperial throne; 
His valiant peers were placed around, 
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound 
(So should desert in arms be crowned); 
The lovely Thais by his side 
Sate like a blooming eastern bride 
In flower of youth and beauty's pride:-  
Happy, happy, happy pair! 
None but the brave 
None but the brave 
None but the brave deserves the fair! 

Timotheus placed on high 
Amid the tuneful quire 
With flying fingers touched the lyre; 
The trembling notes ascend the sky 
And heavenly joys inspire. 
The song began from Jove 
Who left his blissful seats above-  
Such is the power of mighty love! 
A dragon's fiery form belied the god 
Sublime on radiant spires he rode 
When he to fair Olympia prest, 
And while he sought her snowy breast, 
Then round her slender waist he curled, 
And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. 
- The listening crowd admire the lofty sound! 
A present deity! they shout around: 
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound! 
With ravished ears 
The monarch hears, 
Assumes the god, 
Affects to nod, 
And seems to shake the spheres. 

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, 
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: 
The jolly god in triumph comes! 
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums! 
Flushed with a purple grace 
He shows his honest face: 
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; 
And now and then a sigh he stole, 
And tears began to flow. 

The mighty master smiled to see 
That love was in the next degree; 
'Twas but a kindred-sound to move, 
For pity melts the mind to love. 
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures 
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. 
War, he sung, is toil and trouble, 
Honour but an empty bubble; 
Never ending, still beginning, 
Fighting still, and still destroying; 
If the world be worth thy winning, 
Think, O think, it worth enjoying: 
Lovely Thais sits beside thee, 
Take the good the gods provide thee! 
- The many rend the skies with loud applause; 
So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause. 
The prince, unable to conceal his pain, 
Gazed on the fair 
Who caused his care, 
And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, 
Sighed and looked, and sighed again: 
At length with love and wine at once opprest 
The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. 

Now strike the golden lyre again: 
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain! 
Break his bands of sleep asunder 

And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. 
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 arisel 
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. 
At last divine Cecilia came, 
Inventress of the vocal frame; 
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store 
Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 
And added length to solemn sounds, 
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. 
- Let old Timotheus yield the prize 
Or both divide the crown; 
He raised a mortal to the skies; 
She drew an angel down! 

1. Te Deum
2. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
3. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
4. Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne's Tomb in Westminster Abbey
5. On Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk

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