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But come, thou goddess fair and free, In heaven ycelp'd Euphrosyne, And by men heart-easing Mirth; Whom lovely Venus at a birth, With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore : Or whether (as some sages sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-maying ; There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Filli'd her with thee, a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek: Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe; And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty ; And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free. To hear the lark begin his flight, And, singing, startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine :
While the cock, with lively din,
And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the checker'd shade ; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holyday, Till the livelong daylight fail : Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How faery Mab the junkets eat; She was pinch'd and pulld, she said; And he, by friar's lantern led, Tells how the drudging goblin sweat To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of door he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep. Tower'd 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
And ever, against eating cares,
all the chains that tie
These delights if thou canst give,
HENCE, vain deluding joys,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay notes that people the sunbeams; Or likest hovering dreams,
The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy ! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O’erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, 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 Vesta, 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 inmost grove, Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of Cyprus lawn, Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait; And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes ; There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till