FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES.
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Err shall they not, who resolute exploreTime's gloomy backward with judicious eyes;And, scanning right the practices of yore,Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. 2 They to the dome where smoke with curling playAnnounced the dinner to the regions round,Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay,And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. 3 The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill,By quivering string or modulated wind,Trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill,Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. 4 Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun,Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around;Where gloom-enamour'd Mischief loves to dwell,And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound. 5 When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish,And purple nectar glads the festive hour;The guest, without a want, without a wish,Can yield no room to music's soothing power. * * * * *
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