صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني

Which thefe dun fhades will ne'er report.
Hail Goddess of nocturnal fport,

Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the fecret flame
Of midnight-torches burns; myfterious dame, 130
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness fpits her thickeft gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air,

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid'ft with Hecat', and befriend 135
Us thy vow'd priefts, till utmost end

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn on th' Indian fteep

From her cabin'd loophole peep,

And to the tell-tale fun defcry
Our conceal'd folemnity.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground

In a light fantastic round.

The Measure.

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 145
Of some chafte footing near about this ground.
Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright: Some virgin fure
(For fo I can diftinguish by mine art)
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150
And to my wily trains; I fhall ere long
Be well-ftock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl





My dazling spells into the fpungy air,

Of pow'r to cheat the eye with blear illufion, 155
And give it falfe prefentments, left the place
And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
And put the damfel to fufpicious flight,
Which must not be, for that's against my course;

I under fair pretence of friendly ends,
And well plac'd words of glozing courtesy
Baited with reafons not unplausible,
Wind me into the eafy-hearted man,

And hug him into fnares. When once her
Hath met the virtue of this magic duft,


I shall appear fome harmless villager,
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here fhe comes, I fairly ftep afide,

And hearken, if I may, her business here.
The Lady enters.




This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the found
Of riot and ill manag'd merriment,

Such as the jocund flute, or gamefome pipe
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,
When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the Gods amifs. I should be loath
To meet the rudenefs, and fwill'd infolence
Of fuch late waffailers; yet, O where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet


In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My Brothers, when they faw me wearied out
With this long way, refolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favor of these pines,
Stept, as they said, to the next thicket fide
To bring me berries, or fuch cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even,
Like a fad votarist in palmer's weed,


Rofe from the hindmoft wheels of Phoebus' wain. 190
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labor of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far,
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had ftole them from me; elfe O thievish Night 195
Why should'st thou, but for some fellonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their lamps
With everlasting oil, to give due light
To the misled and lonely traveller?
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife, and perfect in my lift'ning ear,
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantafies
Begin to throng into my memory,



Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And aery tongues, that fyllable men's names


On fands, and fhores, and defert wildernesses. These thoughts may ftartle well, but not aftound The virtuous mind, that ever walks áttended 211' By a ftrong fiding champion, conscience.--

O welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings, And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity;

I fee ye vifibly, and now believe


That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill
Are but as flavifh officers of vengeance,

Would send a glift'ring guardian if need were
To keep my life and honor unaffail'd.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a fable cloud
Turn forth her filver lining on the night?
I did not err, there does a fable cloud
Turn forth her filver lining on the night,
And cafts a gleam over this tufted grove.
I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but
Such noife as I can make to be heard fartheft
I'll venture, for my new inliven'd fpirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.





WEET Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'ft unfeen
Within thy aery shell,

By flow Meander's margent green,

And in the violet-embroider'd vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale


[blocks in formation]

Nightly to thee her fad fong mourneth well; 235 Canft thou not tell me of a gentle pair

That likeft thy Narciffus are?

O if thou have

Hid them in fome flow'ry cave,

Tell me but where,

Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, So may'st thou be tranflated to the skies, And give refounding grace to all Heav'n's harmo(nies.

Com. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mold Breathe fuch divine inchanting ravishment? 245 Sure fomething holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To teftify his hidden refidence:

How fweetly did they flote upon the wings

Of filence, through the empty-vaulted night, 250
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darknefs till it fmil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades

Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, 255
Who as they fung, would take the prison'd foul,
And lap it in Elyfium; Scylla wept,

And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause:
Yet they in pleasing flumber lull'd the fenfe, 260
And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself;


« السابقةمتابعة »