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hipped by Magicame анику

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Venus was ww- Waxing well of his deep wound
In slumber soft; and on the ground
Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen:
But far above in spangled sheen
Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc't,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranc't,
After her wand'ring labours long;
Till free consent the gods among
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 bow'd 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,
Heav'n itself would stoop to her.

1000

1005

ΙΟΙΟ

1015

1020

music of th spheres

and ivy

The laurel belonging to because singing of lov

at a Reward

ared

for intellectual talent, Laural, Myrtle,
respectively, to Apollo, Verner, an a Bacchus,

2 though the name

of a

Васевич

often applies by English writers to the exring/Agan ippe and Hippocrever) Wheel flower from theure.

LYCIDAS.

In this MONODY the Author bewails a learned friend,
unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the
Irish seas, 1637. And by occasion foretells the ruin of our
corrupted clergy then in their height.

YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more,
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere, dry
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude

Touching

scatter. Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
compulsion Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watʼry bier

5

ΙΟ

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,, . L. I.7.8.

Without the meed of some melodious tear.

Begin then, sisters of the sacred well,5

That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ;

Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string:

the poet

4.737.

Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, modest, of Comme
So may some gentle Muse put he
With lucky words favour my destin'd urn;

And as he passes turn,

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And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. f. Commun. 147.
For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,

12. together

Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.

at college.

grave? the earth (6h)

Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,
We drove afield; and both together heard
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,

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heard

n the noruntids Leat

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saw it?

but whoes

Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose at ev'ning, bright,
Toward Heav'ns descent had slop'd his westering wheel.
Stae peev..
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,
nerdulated Temper'd to th' oaten flute; made of straw;
Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel
Either C'haf From the glad sound would not be absent long,
kell, or
And old Damotas lov'd to hear our song.
Some other fel- But O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
low of Christ's Now thou art gone, and never must return!
Thee shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves,
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,
And all their echoes mourn.

straying

destrage the

The willows, and the hazel copses green,
Shall now no more be seen,

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays:

As killing as the canker to the rose,

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That 45 in

you flower. Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, hate catite.

Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,

When first the white-thorn blows;

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep
Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas?

For neither were ye playing on the steep,

Where your old bards, the famous Druids lie,

the river Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, glesey

Юля

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream:
Ay me, I fondly dream!

Had ye been there.... for what could that have done?

Calle ope What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,

crowd

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The Muse herself, for her enchanting son
Whom universal Nature did lament;
When by the rout that made the hideous roar, women tron
His gory visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?

to pieces.

Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade,

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? praction,

Were it not better done as others use, are accustomed to
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind),

To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise,'
Phoebus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears;
'Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil

Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies;
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfet witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

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Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed: The veritus O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, Virgil Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, stand for That strain I heard was of a higher mood: Latin peas But now my oat proceeds, Toral poetry. And listens to the herald of the sea

That came in Neptune's plea; legal investigating
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, fee ame
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?& cruel,
And question'd every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked promontory;
They knew not of his story,

же

And sage Hippotades their answer brings;
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd,
The air was calm, and on the level brine

Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. here do
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,

Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,

That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

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Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, begitation His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, along the baut. purple, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge

enough

Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.
Ah! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
Last came, and last did go,

The pilot of the Galilean lake; St. Peter

Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain,

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'child

ΙΙΟ

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) with face

He shook his mitr'd locks, and stern bespake:
'How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,
Anow of such as for their bellies' sake,
Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reck'ning make,

115

my scramble Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, for hinge

And shove away the worthy bidden guest.

gluttone Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold

Serawny

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$50,1,30.

A sheephook, or have learn'd aught else the least I20 That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs! provided for What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; please. And when they list, their lean and flashy songs id, yet. Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Roman Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw hurch, Daily devours apace, and nothing sed; But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,

a sword fo geance. He me ave more that retribution in at day f

a

See l.85 That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, and
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowrets of a thousand hues.

Hack star,

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"rarely

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use au accustomed to Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied show'rs, Lest in excersio

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