Come, Lady, while Heav'n lends us grace,

We shall catch them at their sport,
And our fudden coming there

Will double all their mirth and chear;

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965 Come

Come let us hafte, the ftars grow high,
But night fits monarch yet in the mid sky.

The Scene changes, prefenting Ludlow town and the Prefident's caftle; then come in country dancers, after them the attendent Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.

SONG.

Spir. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your play,

Till next fun-fhine holiday;

Here be without duck or nod

Other trippings to be trod

Of lighter toes, and fuch court guife

As Mercury did first devise

With the mincing Dryades

On the lawns, and on the leas.

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This fecond Song presents them to their Father and Mother.

Noble Lord, and Lady bright,

I have brought ye new delight,
Here behold fo goodly grown

Three fair branches of your own;

Heav'n hath timely try'd their youth,

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Their faith, their patience, and their truth,

And sent them here through hard assays

With a crown of deathless praise,

To triumph in victorious dance O'er fenfual folly, and intemperance.

The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes.
Spir. To the ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that lie
Where day never fhuts his eye,

Up in the broad fields of the sky:
There I fuck the liquid air

All amidst the gardens fair

Of Hefperus, and his daughters three

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That fing about the golden tree :

Along the crifped fhades and bowers

Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,

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The Graces, and the rofy-bofom'd Hours,

And drenches with Elyfian dew
(Lift mortals, if your ears be true)
Beds of hyacinth and rofes,
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound
In flumber soft, and on the ground

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Sadly

Sadly fits th' Affyrian queen;
But far above in spangled sheen
Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc'd,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranc'd,
After her wand'ring labors long,
Till free confent 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 fworn.
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 flow doth bend,
And from thence can foar as foon

To the corners of the moon.

Mortals that would follow me, Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to clime Higher than the sphery chime; Or if Virtue feeble were,

Heav'n itself would ftoop to her.

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1

LYCI

XVII.

LYCIDA S.

In this monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drown'd in his paffage from Chefter on the Irish feas, 1637, and by occafion foretels the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their highth.

ET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more

YET

Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never sere,

I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,

And with forc'd fingers rude

Shatter leaves before the mellowing year. 5

your

Bitter conftraint, and fad occafion dear,

Compels me to difturb your feafon due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not fing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to fing, and build the lofty rhime.
He must not flote upon his watry bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of fome melodious tear.
Begin then, Sifters of the facred well,
That from beneath the feat of Jove doth spring,
Begin, and fomewhat loudly fweep the firing.
Hence with denial vain, and coy excufe,

So may fome gentle Muse

With lucky words favor my deftin'd urn,
And as he paffes turn,

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`And