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Come let us haste, the stars grow high,
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.
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.
This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
And sent them here through hard assays
To triumph in victorious dance
The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes.
Sadly sits th' Allyrian queen;
But now my task is smoothly done,
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.
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 bid fair peace be to my fable shroud.
Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 25
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