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Without the gate he plac'd two other warders,
To shut and ope the door, as it behov'd :
But such strange force hath her enchanting art,
That she hath made her keepers of her part,
And they to all her slights all furtherance impart.
Thus (with their help) by her the sacred Muses
Refresh the prince, dull'd with much business;
By her the prince, unto his Prince oft uses,
In heav'nly throne, from Hell to find access.
She Heav'n to Earth in music often brings,
And Earth to Heav'n :—but oh, how sweet she sings,
When in rich Grace's key, she tunes poor Nature's strings.
Thus Orpheus won his lost Euridice;
Whom some deaf snake, that could no music hear,
Or some blind newt, that could no beauty see,
Thinking to kiss, kill'd with his forked spear:
He, when his plaints on earth were vainly spent,
Down to Avernus’ river boldly went,
And charm'd the meagreghosts with mournful blandishment.
There what his mother, fair Calliope,
From Phoebus' harp and Muses spring had brought him;
What sharpest grief for his Euridice,
And love, redoubling grief, had newly taught him,
He lavish'd out, and with his potent spell
Bent all the rig'rous pow'rs of stubborn Hell:
He first brought pity down with rigid ghosts to dwell.
Th’ amazed shades came flocking round about,
Nor car'd they now to pass the Stygian ford:
All Hell came running there (a hideous rout)
And dropp'd a silent tear for ev'ry word:
The aged ferryman show'd out his boat;
But that without his help did thither float,
And having ta'en him in, came dancing on the moat.
The hungry Tantal might have fill'd him now ;
And with large draughts swill'd in the standing pools
The fruit hung list’ning on the wond'ring bough,
Forgetting Hell's command; but he (ah, fool!)
Forgot his starved taste, his ears to fill:
Ixion's turning wheel at length stood still;
But he was rapt as much with pow'rful music's skill.
Tir’d Sisyphus sat on his resting stone,
And hop’d at length his labour done for ever:
The vulture feeding on his pleasing moan,
Glutted with music, scorn’d grown Tityus' liver.
The Furies flung their snaky whips away,
And melt in tears, at his enchanting lay;
No wailings now were heard: all Hell kept holiday.
That treble dog, whose voice ne'er quiet fears
All that in endless night's sad kingdom dwell;
Stood pricking up his thrice two list’ning ears,
With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell;
And softly whining pitied much his wrongs;
And now first silent at those dainty songs,
Oft wish'd himself more ears, and fewer mouths and tongues
At length return'd with his Euridice;
But with this law, never to turn his eyes.
Till he was past the bounds of Tartary;
Alas! who gives love laws in miseries :
Love is love's law; love but to love is tied).
Now when the dawn of the next day he spied,
Ah, wretch:—Euridice he saw, and lost,-and died.
All so, who strives from grave of hellish night,
To bring his dead soul to the joyful sky;
If when he comes in view of heav'nly light,
He turns again to Hell his yielding eye,
And longs to see what he had left; his sore
Grows desp'rate, deeper, deadlier than afore :
His helps and hopes much less, his crime and judgment more.
But why do I enlarge my tedious song, -
And tire my flagging Muse with weary flight?
Ah! much I fear, I hold you much too long.
The outward parts be plain to every sight:
But to describe the people of this Isle,
And that greato prince, these reeds are all too vile.
Some higher verse may fit, and some more lofty style.
See Phlegon drenched in the liquid main,
Allays his thirst, and cools his flaming car; Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her train : See, th’ apish Earth hath lighted many a star, Sparkling in dewy globes:—all home invite : Home then my flocks, home shepherd's, home,’tis night: My song with day is done; my Muse is set with light.” LXXI. By this the gentle boys had framed well A myrtle garland mix’d with conq’ring bay, * The intellect.
From whose fit march issued a pleasing smile,
And all enamell'd it with roses gay;
With which they crown'd their honour’d Thirsil's head;
Ah! blessed shepherd swain' ah happy meed!
While all his fellows chant on slender pipes of reed.
--- - I. HE hours had now unlock'd the gate of day, When fair Aurora leaves her frosty bed, Hasting with youthful Cephalus to play, Unmask'd her face and rosy beauties spread: Tithonus’ silver age was much despis’d. Ah! who in love that cruel law devis’d, That old love's little worth, and new too highly priz'd. II. The gentle shepherds on a hillock plac'd, (Whose shady head a beechy garland crown'd) View'd all their flocks that on the pastures graz'd : Then down they sit, while Thenot 'gan the round; Thenot' was never fairer boy among The gentle lads, that to the Muses throng By Camus' yellow streams, learn tune their pipe and song. III. “See, Thirsil, see the shepherd's expectation; Why then, ah! why sitt'st thou so silent there We long to know that Island's happy nation; Oh, do not leave thy Isle umpeopled here. Tell us who brought, and whence these colonies; Who is their king, what foes, and what allies; * What laws maintain their peace; what wars, and victories?” - IV. “Thenot, my dear! that simple fisher-swain, Whose little boat in some small river strays; Yet fondly launches in the swelling main, Soon, yet too late, repents his foolish plays: