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And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his mattin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering winds foon lull'd asleep.
Tow'red cities please us then,

And the bufy hum of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With ftore of ladies, whofe bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend:
There let Hymen oft appear ‹
In faffron robe, with taper clear,
And Pomp, and Feaft, and Revelry,
With Mask and antique Pageantry,
Such fights as youthful poets dream,
On fummer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonfon's learned fock be on,

Or fweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's Child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.

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Such as the meeting foul may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of link'd fweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden foul of Harmony;

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That Orpheus' felf may heave his head
From golden flumber on a bed

Of heapt Elyfian flowers, and hear
Such ftrains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.

These delights if thou canft give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

MILTON

CHAP. XVII.

IL PENSEROSO.

HENCE, vain deluding joys,

The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you befted,

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in fome idle brain,

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes poffefs,

As thick and numberless

As the gay motes that people the fun-beams, Or likeft hovering dreams!

The fickle penfioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail, thou Geddefs, fage and holy,
Hail, divineft Melancholy!

Whofe faintly visage is too bright
To hit the fenfe of human fight,

And therefore to our weaker view,

O'erlaid with black, ftaid Wifdom's hue
Black, but fuch as in esteem,

Prince Memnon's fifter, might befeem,

Or

Or that ftarr'd Ethiop queen that strove
To fet her beauty's praise above

The fea-nymphs, and their powers offended:
Yet thou art higher far defcended;
Thee, bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore,
To folitary Saturn bore;

His daughter fhe (in Saturn's reign
Such mixture was not held a ftain)
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmoft grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come, penfive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, ftedfaft, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of Cypress lawn,
O'er thy decent fhoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted ftate,
With even step, and mufing gait,
And looks commerfing with the skies,
Thy wrapt foul fitting in thine eyes;
There, held in holy paffion ftill,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft,

Thou fix them on the earth as fast:

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,

Spare Faft, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the muses in a ring,

Aye round about Jove's altar fing;
And add to thefe retired Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ;

But

But firft and chiefeft with thee bring,
Him that yon foars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery wheeled throne,
The Cherub Contemplation :
And the mute filence hiss'd along,
'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong,
In her sweetest, faddeft plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er the accustom❜d oak :

Sweet bird, that fhun'ft the noise of Folly,
Moft mufical, moft melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,
I woo to hear thy evening fong:
And miffing thee, I walk unfeen
On the dry fmooth-fhaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon.
Like one that had been led aftray
Through the heaven's wide pathless way:
And oft as if her head fhe bow'd
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

Oft on a plat of rifing ground,
I hear the far-off Curfew found
Over fome wide water'd fhore,
Swinging flow with fullen roar.

Or if the air will not permit, Some still-remov'd place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room,, Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,

Far from all refort of Mirth,

Save the cricket on the hearth,

Or the bellman's drowsy charm,
To blefs the doors from nightly harm.

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be feen in some high lonely tow's,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unfphere
The spirit of Plato, to unfold

What worlds, or what vaft regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forfook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook :
And of thofe dæmons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whofe power hath a true confent
With planet or with element.

Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy
In fcepter'd pall come fweeping by,
Prefenting Thebes, or Pelop's line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,

Or what (though rare) of later age,
Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.

But, O fad virgin! that thy pow'r
Might raife Mufæus from his bower,
Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as warbled to the ftring,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what Love did feek;
Or call up him that left half-told
The ftory of Cambufcan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarfife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wond'rous horfe of brass.

Or

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