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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 th’ Assyrian 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 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 bow'd 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,
Heav'n itself would stoop to her.

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Hence loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn

(holy, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights usFind out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding Darkness spreads her jealous And the night raven sings;

(wings, There under ebon shades and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n, yclep'd Euphrosyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as some sages sing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a-Maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fillid her with thee a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Haste thee Nymph, and bring with the
Jest and youthful Jollity,

Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides,
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ;
And if I give thee honor due,
Mirth admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee
In unreproved pleasures free ;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull Night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled. Dawn doth rise ;
Then to come in spite of Sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of Darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before :
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn,
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring Morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking not unseen
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great Sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight,
While the plowman near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his sithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the landskip round it measures,
Russet lawns and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast

The lab'ring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.
Towers and bartlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lics,
The Cynosure of neighb'ring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,
Are at their savory dinner set
Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses ;

And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; Or if the earlier season lead To the rann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecs sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequer'd shade; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday, Till the live-long day-light fail; Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, With stories sold of many a feat, How faery Map the junkers eat, She was pincht, and pull'd she said, And he by frier's lanthorn led Tells how the drudging goblin swet, To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flale hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-lab'rers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whisp'rinig winds soon lull'd asleep.

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