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0 then began the tempest to my soul!
1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, "With that grim ferryman -which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual Night.
The first that ihere did greet my si ranger-soul ,
Brak. No marvel, lord , that it affrighted you; I am afraid, methinks , to hear you tell it,
Clar. Ah, Brakenbury! I have done those things, That now give evidence against my soul, For Edward's sake! and see how he requits me; O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds , Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:
0 spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!
1 p'rytbee , Brakenbury , stay by me:
My soul is heavy, and I faiu would sleep.
then I see Queen Mab hath been with yoUj She is the Fancy's midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman 5
Drawn by a team of little atomies ,
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon spokes made of long spinner's leg's;
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers 5
The traces—of the smallest spider's web;
love: On courtier's knees , that dream on court'sies
X. do remember an Apothecary,
And hereabouts he dwells , whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds , with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks)
Sharp Misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung ,
An alligator stuff VI, and other skins
Of ill shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread , and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scatttr'd to make up a shew.
Moling litis penury , to myself I said ,
And if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua ,
Here li\es a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
Oh, this same thought did but fore-run my need J
And this same needy Man must sell it me
As I remember, this should be the house.
Xr aught of oaten stop , or pastoral song,
0 Nymph reserv'd, while now the bright hair'd sun Sits on yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts
With brede ethereal wove ,
O'erhang his wavy bed:
Now air is hush'd, save where the ,weak-eyed bat, With short shrillshrieks flits by on leathern wing.
Or where the beetle winds
His small but sullen horn ,
As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
Whose numbers stealing through thy dark'ning vale,
Maj not unseemly with its stillness suit,
As musing slow , I hail,
Thy genial, lov'd return!
For when thy folding star arising shews
The fragrant Hours , and Elves
"Who slept in flow'rs the day ,
And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with;
sedge , And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still,
The pensive Pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadowy car,
Then lead, calm Vot'ress, where some sheety lake Cheers the lone heath or some time-hallowed pile ,
Or up-land fallows grey
Reflect its last cool gleam.
But when chill blust'rinc winds or driving rain r
And hamlets brown , and dim-discover'd spires,
Thy dewy fingers draw
The gradual dusky veil.
While Spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he
wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses , meekest Eve!
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light:
While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ) Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air ,
Affrights thy shrinking train ,
And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, sure found beneath the sylvan shade , Shall Fancy , Friendship , Science , rose liprd Health ,
Thy gentlest influence own ,
And hymn thy favourite name! Collih5»
Ode to Spring. O
Oweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, Hoar Winter's blooming child : delightful Spring!
Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crown'd; From the green islands of eternal youth , (Crown'd with fresh blooms, and"'ever-springing shade )
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou whose powerful voice More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed , Or Lydian flute , can sooth the madding winds,
And thro the, stormy deep
Breathe thy own tender calm.
Thee, best belov'd! the virgin train await,
Thy blooming wilds among,
And vales and dewy lawns,
With untir'd feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets
Of him the favour'd youth
That prompts their whisper'd sigh. Unlock thy copious stores; those tender showers That drop their sweetness on the infant buds,
And silent dews that swell,
The milky ear's green stem, And feed the flow'ring osiei's early shoots; And call those winds which through the whisp'ring boughs
With warm and pleasant breath
Salute the blowing flowers. Nc;W let me sit beneath the whitening thorn And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale j
And watch with patient eye
Thy fair unfolding charms.