THE ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITING.
69
Of power to lift the fixed soul
High o'er Fortune's proud controul;
Kindling deep, prophetic musing;
Love of beauteous death infusing;
Scorn, and unconquerable hate
Of tyrant pride's unhallowed state.
The boy abashed, and half afraid,
Beheld each chaste immortal maid:
Pallas spread her Egis there;
Mars stood by with threatening air;
And stern Diana's icy look
With sudden chill his bosom struck.
"Daughters of Jove, receive the child,"
The queen of beauty said, and smiled;—
Her rosy breath perfumed the air,
And scattered sweet contagion there;
Relenting Nature learned to languish,
And sickened with delightful anguish:—
