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wherewith she sits on diamond-rocks,
sleeking her soft alluring locks;

by all the nymphs that nightly dance
upon thy streams with wily glance,
rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
from thy coral-paven bed,

and bridle in thy headlong wave,

till thou our summons answered have.

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of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:

the jolly god in triumph comes;
sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
flushed with a purple grace

he shows his honest face:

now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young,

drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, drinking is the soldier's pleasure: rich the treasure,

sweet the pleasure,

sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;

fought all his battles o'er again;

and thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew

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whate'er in prospect charms the eye,
from thee receives its pleasing dye:
from thee Apollo gilds the ray
that ushers in the new-born day:

from thee, the moon with borrowed light
supplies the silver lamp of night:
from thee fair Iris paints her bow
where all thy varied colours glow:

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formed by thy hand, does Nature spread
a flowery carpet o'er the mead:
from thee the face of earth is seen
arrayed in cheerful robes of green:
what blossoms on the fragrant tree
derives th' impatient buds from thee:
what sparkles in the diamond shows
the brighter fount from which it flows:
all that can please in earth or air
is but of thee a copy fair:

thy beauty fills the world with light,

which, without thee, would sink in night.

E

HYMN TO EASE

ASE, delight of human kind,
soft enchantress of the mind;
ease, thou happy gift of heaven,
by the gods to mortals given;
thou to Virtue near allied,
art ever by her sacred side,

whether she choose the rugged way,

A. BUSH.

or through the moss-green valley stray;
you soothed with raptured fancy, walk along,
and lend attentive ear to her celestial song.
Ease the lyric bard inspires,
warms his breast with heavenly fires;
bids him swell a fuller key,

or a softer sound convey.

'Tis ease alone gives peaceful rest,

the pure virtue-breathing breast

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round, and bright, and warm, and still,
over all the northern hill;-

who may be so blest as thee,
of the sons of men that be?
Evermore thou dost behold
all the sun-set bathed in gold;
then thou listenest all night long
to the leaves' faint under-song
from two tall dark elms, that rise
up against the silent skies:
evermore thou drink'st the stream
of the chaste moon's purest beam;
evermore thou dost espy

every star that twinkles by.

EPILOGUE OF THE SPIRIT IN COMUS

the ocean now I fly,

Tand those happy climes that lie

where day never shuts his eye,
up in the broad fields of the sky:
there I suck the liquid air

all amidst the gardens fair

of Hesperus, and his daughters three
that sing about the golden tree.
Along the crispéd shades and bowers
revels the spruce and jocund Spring;

the Graces, and the rosy-bosomed Hours,
thither all their bounties bring:

there eternal Summer dwells,

and west-winds with musky wing

about the cedarn alleys fling

nard and cassia's balmy smells.
Iris there with humid bow

waters the odorous banks, that blow

flowers of more mingled hue

than her purfled scarf can shew;

and drenches with Elysian dew

—list, mortals, if your ears be true—

beds of hyacinth and roses,

where young Adonis oft reposes,
waxing well of his deep wound,

in slumber soft, and on the ground
sadly sits the Assyrian queen.
But far above, in spangled sheen,

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celestial Cupid her famed son advanced
holds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced
after her wandering 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 bowed 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 you how to climb
higher than the sphery chime;
or if Virtue feeble were,

Heaven itself would stoop to her.

COMUS

J. MILTON

THE

HE star that bids the shepherd fold
now the top of heaven doth hold,

and the gilded car of day

his glowing axle doth allay
in the steep Atlantic stream,

and the slope sun his upward beam
shoots against the dusky pole,

pacing toward the other goal
of his chamber in the east.
Meanwhile welcome joy and feast,
midnight shout and revelry,
tipsy dance and jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,
dropping odours, dropping wine.
Rigour now has gone to bed,
and Advice with scrupulous head,

strict Age and sour Severity,

with their grave saws, in slumber lie.

We, that are of purer fire,

imitate the starry quire,

F. S. III

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who, in their nightly watchful spheres,

lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,

now to the moon in wavering morrice move;
and, on the tawny sands and shelves,
trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves.

By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,

the Wood-Nymphs, decked with daisies trim,
their merry wakes and pastimes keep—
what hath Night to do with sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove,
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.
Come, let us our rites begin

'tis only daylight that makes sin—
which these dun shades will ne'er report.—

RETIREMENT

J. MILTON

CLIMB, at court, for me, that will,

tottering favour's pinnacle;

all I seek is to lie still:
settled in some secret nest,
in calm leisure let me rest,
and, far off the public stage,
pass away my silent age.

Thus, when, without noise, unknown,
I have lived out all my span,
I shall die without a groan
an old honest countryman.
Who, exposed to other's eyes,
into his own heart never pries,
death to him's a strange surprise.

A. MARVELL

ENDURANCE

HEN clouds athwart the lowering sky

WHE

are driven-when bursts with hollow moan

the thunder's peal—our trembling bosoms own
the might of awful Destiny!

Yet oft the lightning's glare

darts sudden thro' the cloudless air:

then in thy short delusive day

of bliss, oh! dread the treacherous snare;

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