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:
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.
EASE, 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,
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, to the pure virtue-breathing breast: 'tis ease that calms the ruffled soul, 'tis ease can passion's force controul. Virtue and Ease for ever social join, both of congenial form, and both of birth divine.
underneath me as I pass, o'er the hill-top on the grass, all among thy fellow-drops on the speary herbage-tops,
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
"O the ocean now I fly,
and 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,
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.
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,
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.
LIMB, 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.
HEN clouds athwart the lowering sky
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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