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Of Hesperus, and his daughters three,
That sing about the golden tree :

Along the crispéd shades and bowers
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring,

The Graces, and the rosy-bosomed Hours,
Thither all their bounties bring:

There eternal Summer dwells,

And west winds, with musky wing,

About the cedarn alleys fling

Nard and cassia's balmy smells.

Iris there with humid bow

Waters the odorous banks, that blow

Flowers of more mingled hue

Than her purfled 52 scarf can shew,

And drenches with Elysian dew

(List, mortals, if your ears be true)

Beds of hyacinth and roses,
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits the Assyrian queen; 53
But far above, in spangled sheen,
Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,

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Make her his eternal bride,

And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,

Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.

But now my task is smoothly done ; I can fly, or I can run

Quickly to the green earth's end,

Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,

And from thence can soar as soon

To the corners of the moon.

Mortals, that would follow me,

Love Virtue; she alone is free:
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or, if Virtue feeble were,

Heaven itself would stoop to her.



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