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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 soon lullid asleep.
Tow'red cities please us then,'·
And the busy hum of men,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With store of ladies, whose 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 Feast, and Revelry,
With Mask and antique Pageantry,
Such fights as youthful poets dream,
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakfoeare, Fancy's Child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting foul may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of link'd sweetness 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;
That Orpheus' self may heave his head
From golden slumber on a bed
Of heapt Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.
These delights if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
ENCE, vain deluding joys,
The brood of Folly without father bred !
bested, Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes poffefs, As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the sun-beams,
Or likest hovering dreams!
The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail, thou Goddess, fage and holy,
Hail, divineit Melancholy !
Whose faintly visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human fight,
And therefore to our weaker view,
O’erlaid with black, flaid Wisdom's hue
Black, but such as in esteem,
Prince Memnon's fifter, might befeem,
Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove
To set her beauty's praise above
The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended :
Yet thou art higher far descended ;
Thee, bright-hair'd Vefta, long of yore,
To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she (in Saturn's reign
Such mixture was not held a stain).
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmoft grove,
there was no fear of Jove.
Come, pensive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, fted fast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of Cypress lawn,
O'er thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even ftep, and mosing gait,
And looks commerling with the skies,
Thy wrapt foul fitting in thine eyes;
There, held in holy passion still,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a sad leaden downward caft,
Thou fix them on the earth as fast :
And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with guds doth diet,
And hears the muses in a ring,
Aye round about Jove's altar fing;
And add to these retired Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ;
But first and chiefest with thee bring,
Him that yon soars on golden wing, .
Guiding the fiery wheeled throne,
The Cherub Contemplation :
And the mute filence hiss'd along,
'Less Philomel will deign a song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o’er the accuftòm'd oak:
Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of Follys.
Moft musical, most melancholy !
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,
I woo to hear thy evening rong:
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon.
Like one that had been led astray
Through the heaven's wide pathless way:
And oft as if her head the bow'd
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off Curfew found
Over some wide water'd fhore,
Swinging slow 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 resort of Mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the bellman's drowsy charm,
To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be seen in some high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere
The spirit of Plato, to unfold
What worlds, or what vast regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this Aethly nook :
And of those dæmons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true consent
With planet or with element.
Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy
In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, .
Presenting 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 sad virgin! that thy pow'r
Might raise Musæus from his bower,
Or bid the soul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what Love did seek ;
Or call up him that left half- told
The story of Cambuscan 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 horse of brass.