« السابقةمتابعة »
of thades and wanton winds, and gucking brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart Star fparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,
That on the green terf fuck the honied fhowres,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowres,
Bring the rathe Primrofe that forsaken dies.
The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Geflamine,
The white Pink, and the Panfie freake with jeat,
The glowing Violet,
The Mask-rofe, and the well-attir'd Woodbine,
With Cowslips wan that hang the penfive head,
And every flower that sád embroidery wears:
Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To ftrew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies.
For so to interpofe a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
Ay me! Whilft thee the mores, and founding Seas
Wafh far away, where ere thy bones are huri'da
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit'ft the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou to pur moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'it by the fabke of Bellirus old,
Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth."
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your Corrow, is not deada
Sunk though he be beneath the 'wätry Aloar,
So links the day-star in the Ocean' bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Orc,
Flames in the forehead of the morniog sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves
Where other groves, and o:her streams along,
With Ne&tar pure his oozy Locks he laves,
And hears the unexpresive nuptial Song,
In che blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solema troops; and sweet - Societies.
That sing, and laging 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 those,
lo thy large recompense, and thalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus sang the uncouch Swain to th' Okes and rills
While the fill morn went out with Sandals gray,
He touch'd the tender stops of various Quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doriak lay:
And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills,
And now was dropt into the Western Bay;
At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantke blew :
To morrow to freth Woods, and Pasturca acw,
Ence loathed Melancholy
Of Cerberus, and blackest midnight bord,
In Stygian Cave forlorn
'Mongst horrid shapes and thrieks,and lights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell,
where brooding darkness spreads his jeak us wings, And the night. Raven sings;
There under Ebon shades, and low-brow'd Rocks, As ragged as thy Locks,
In dark cimmerian desart ever dwell.
But come thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrosine,
And by men, heart-ealing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two Sister Graces more
To Ivy crowned Bacchows bore;
Or whether (as some Sager fing)
The frolick Wind that breaths the Spring,
Zephir with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on beds of Violets blue,
And fresh.blown Roses waht in dew,
Filld her with thee a daughcer fair,
So bucksom, blith, and debonair.
Haste thee Nymph, and bring with thee
Jeft and youthful Jellity,