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

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the Presi

dent's castle; then come in country dancers, after them the attendent Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.

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S O N G Spir. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your play,

Till next fun-fhine holiday; Here be without duck or nod

970 Other trippings to be trod Of lighter toes, and such court guise As Mercury did first devise With the mincing Dryades On the lawns, and on the leas.

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This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother.

Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight,
Here behold so goodly grown
'Three fair branches of your own;
Heav'n hath timely try'd their youth, 980
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 sensual folly, and intemperance.

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The 990

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The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes.
Spir. To 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 crisped shades and bowers
Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,
The Graces, and the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Thither all their bounties bring :
That there eternal Summer dwells,
And west-winds with musky-wing
About the cedarn alleys fling
Nard and Callia’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

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Sadly

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Sadly sits th' Allyrian 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, 1025
And from thence can foar as soon
To the corners of the moon.

Mortals that would follow me, Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to clime

1030 Higher than the sphery chime; Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.

XVII.

L Y CI D A S. In this monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drown'd in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637, and by occasion foretels the ruin of

our corrupted clergy, then in their highth. VET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more

1 Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 10 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhime. He must not flote upon his watry bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.

Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 15 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, So may some gentle Muse With lucky words favor my destin'd urn, 20 And as he passes turn,

And

And bid fair peace be to my fable shroud.
For we were nurst upon the self-fame hill,
Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill.

Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 25
Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
We drove a field, and both together heard
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 30
Tow’ard Heav'n's descent had slop'd his west’ring
Mean while the rural ditties were not mute, (wheel.
Temper’d to th’oaten flute,
Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not be absent long, 35
And old Damætas lov'd to hear our song.

But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn. The willows and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, / 45 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flow’rs, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds ear. K k

Where

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