VERSES
ON
MRS.
BILLINGTON'S
APPEARANCE
AT
OXFORD
.
TO
THOMAS
BARRETT
LENNARD
,
ESQ
.
IN
ages
past
the
sweetly-flowing
strain
,
By
Orpheus
pour'd
along
the
verdant
plain
,
Disarm'd
the
tiger's
fierce
relentless
rage
,
And
could
the
lion's
horrid
wrath
asswage
:
Secure
from
harm
amidst
the
bloody
throng
,
The
love-lorn
bard
attun'd
his
plaintive
song
.
Next
old
Amphion
prov'd
the
pow'r
of
sound
,
And
bade
his
walls
defenceless
Thebes
surround
.
Such
were
the
wond'rous
feats
of
former
days
,
And
such
the
force
of
long-forgotten
lays
.
Though
now
at
Musick's
voice
no
ramparts
rise
,
No
lion
fell
in
magic
thraldom
lies
,
Yet
still
its
sweet
resistless
pow'r
remains
,
We
feel
its
force
in
living
vocal
strains
.
For
,
hark
!
how
worthy
of
Apollo's
praise
,
Eliza
tunes
her
softly-thrilling
lays
!
And
whilst
full
many
a
proud
aspiring
fane
In
echo
sweet
prolongs
the
cheerful
strain
,
Behold
,
forth
issuing
from
the
portals
wide
,
Display'd
in
many
a
long
and
sable
tide
,
The
letter'd
sons
of
holy
science
come
,
By
music
lur'd
to
quit
that
peaceful
home
,
Where
tranquil
pleasures
crown
the
passing
hour
,
And
Wisdom
dwells
unaw'd
by
tyrant
power
.
Behold
how
round
Apollo's
shrine
they
throng
,
And
list
enraptur'd
to
the
swelling
song
.
But
mark
!
—
Swift
passing
through
the
buoyant
air
Yon
gloried
car
a
nobler
tribute
bear
!
See
Handel
,
source
of
sweet
majestic
strains
,
Direct
his
flight
to
these
his
favourite
plains
.
Behold
him
now
with
mute
attention
pause
,
Now
join
,
with
rapture
bright
,
the
just
applause
.
Since
Handel
then
approves
the
lovely
dame
,
And
stamps
his
fiat
on
her
lasting
fame
,
From
lov'd
Parnassus'
height
desced
,
ye
Nine
,
And
round
her
brows
your
brightest
laurels
twine
.