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Throw hither all your quaint enamelld eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureat herse where Lycid lies.
For, so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise ;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurld,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Whe thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus* old,
Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount,
Looks tow'rd Namancost and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

* A Cornish giant.

+ Mount St. Michael; not far from the Land's End in Cornwall, whence at low water it is accessible. The guarded mount, says Mr. Warton, is simply the fortified mount; and the great vision is the famous apparition of St. Michael, who is said to have appeared on the top of the mount, and to have directed a church to be built there.

Or Numantia; a town of Old Castile, once highly celebrated in the Spanish history. Todd.

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon uprears his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, (waves; Through the dear might of Him* that walk'd the Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the bless'd kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and, singing, in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more: Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, In thy large recompence, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray; He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the sun had stretch'd o'er all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay; At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue: Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

* A description of our Saviour.

L'ALLEGRO.

Hence loathed Melancholy,
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn,

(unholy ! 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights Find out some uncouth cell,

[wings, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous And the night-raven sings;

There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert. ever dwell.
But come, thou goddess fair and free,
In Heaven yclep'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,
Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fail',
So buxom, blithe, and debonaire.

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 briar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock, with lively din, Scatters the rear of Darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before: Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill: Some time walking, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,

Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale,
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim, with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees,
Bosom’d high in tufted trees,
Where, perhaps, some beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage-chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met,
Are at their savoury dinner set,
Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;
And then in haste her bower she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;
Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tan'd haycock in the mead.

Sometimes, with secure delight,
The upland hamlets will invite,

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