Basks at the fire his hairy Strength;
And Crop-full out of dores be flings,
Ere the first Cock bis Mattin rings.
Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering Windes soon lull'd asleep.
Towred Cities please us then,
And the busie bumm of men,

Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of Peace high triumphs bold,
With Store of Ladies, whose bright eies
Rain influence, and judge the prise
Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
To win ber Grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask, and antique Pageantry,
Such sights as youthfull Poets dream
On Summer eeves by haunted Stream.
Then to the well-trod Stage anon,
If Jonsons learned Sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespear fancies childe,
Warble bis native Wood-notes wilde,
And ever against eating Cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian Aires,
Married to immortal verse
Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of lincked sweetnes long drawn out,
With wanton beed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;

Untwisting all the chains that ty
The hidden soul of barmony.
That Orpheus self may heave his head
From golden slumber on a bed
Of beapt Elysian flowres, and bear
Such streins as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His balf regain'd Eurydice.
These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth with thee, I mean to live.

Il Penseroso

Hence vain deluding joyes,

The brood of folly without father bred, How little you bested,

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes; Dwell in som idle brain,

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless

As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams, Or likest hovering dreams

The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train. But bail thou Goddes, sage and holy, Hail divinest Melancholy, Whose Saintly visage is too bright To hit the Sense of human sight; And therfore to our weaker view, Ore laid with black Staid Wisdoms bue. Black, but such as in esteem,

Prince Memnons sister might beseem,
Or that Starr'd Ethiope Queen that Strove
To set ber beauties 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 Saturns raign,
Such mixture was not held a Stain)
Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Com pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestick train,
And sable Stole of Cipres Lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Com, but keep thy wonted State,
With eev'n step, and musing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:
There held in boly passion Still,
Forget thy self to Marble, till
With a sad Leaden downward cast,
Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,
And bears the Muses in a ring,
Ay round about Joves Altar sing.