We implore thy powerful hand To undo the charmed band Of true virgin here distressed, Through the force, and through the wile, Of unblest enchanter vile. SABRINA. Shepherd, 'tis my office best Brightest lady, look on me; Thrice upon thy rubied lip; Next this marble venomed seat, Smeared with gums of glutinous heat, I touch with chaste palms moist and cold: Now the spell hath lost his hold; And I must haste, ere morning hour, To wait in Amphitrite's bower. [SABRINA descends, and the LADY rises out of her seat.] SPIRIT. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, Sprung of old Anchises' line, 47 May thy brimméd 48 waves for this Their full tribute never miss From a thousand petty rills, That tumble down the snowy hills: Never scorch thy tresses fair, Nor wet October's torrent flood Thy molten crystal fill with mud : May thy billows roll ashore The beryl, and the golden ore; May thy lofty head be crowned With many a tower and terrace round, And here and there thy banks 49 upon With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. Come, lady, while Heaven lends us grace, Let us fly this curséd place, Lest the sorcerer us entice With some other new device. Not a waste or needless sound Till we come to holier ground; Through this gloomy covert wide; And not many furlongs thence Is your father's residence, Where this night are met in state Many a friend to gratulate His wished presence; and, beside, With jigs and rural dance resort: We shall catch them at their sport; And our sudden coming there Will double all their mirth and cheer. Come, let us haste, the stars grow high, But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. [The scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the PRESIDENT's castle; then come in country dancers; after them the ATTENDANT SPIRIT, with the two BROTHERS and the LADY.] Song. SPIRIT. Back, shepherds, back! enough your play, Till next sunshine holiday : |