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"Whilst from off the waters fleet
** Thus I set my piintless feet
"O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
"That bends not as 1 tread,"
Gentle swain, at thy request,
1 am here.

RECITATIVE. Second Spirit.

Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distress'd,
Thro' the force, and thro' the wile,
Of unbless'd enchanter vile.

RECITA TIVE. Sabrina. Shepherd, 'tis my office best To help ensnared chastity: Brightest lady, look on me; Thus I sprinkle on thy breast Drops, that from my fountain pure I have kept, of precious cure; Thrice upon thy finger's tip, Thrice upon thy ruby'd lip; Next this marble venom'd seat, Smear'd with gums of glutinous heat, I touch with chaste palms moist and cold Now the spell hath lost his hold; And I must haste, ere morning-hour, To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

[sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat; the Brothers embrace her tenderly.

E.Bro. "I oft had heard, but ne'er believ'd till now, *' There are, who can by potent magic spells "Bend to their crooked purpose nature's laws, "Blot the fair moon from her resplendent orb, "Bid whirling planets stop their destin'd course, 400 "And thro' the yawning earth from Stygian gloom "Call up the meagre ghost to walks of light: *' It may be so, for some mysterious end!"

Y. Bro. Why did I doubt? Why tempt the wrath of heav'n

To shed just vengeance on my weak distrust i
"Here spotless innocence has found relief,
"By means as wond'rous as her strange distress."
E. Bro. The freedom of the mind, you see, no
charm,

No spell can reach; that righteous Jove forbids,
Lest man should call his frail divinity 41a
The slave of evil, or the sport of chance.
Inform us, Thyrsis, if for this thine aid,
We aught can pay that equals thy desert.

First Spirit discovering himself.

Pay it to Heaven! There my mansion is:
"But when a mortal, favour'd of high Jove,
"Chances to pass thro' yon advent'rous glade^
"Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star

"I shoot from heav'n to give him safe convoy."
That lent you grace to escape this cursed place;
To heaven, that here has try'd your youth, 4So
Your faith, your patience, and'your truth,
And sent you thro' these hard essays
With a crown of deathless praise.

£ Then the two first Spirits advance and speah alternately
the following lines, which Milton calls epiloguizing.
To the ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that lye
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, 430
That sing about the golden tree.

Along the crisped shades and bowers
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;
The Graces and the rosy-bosom'd Hours
Thither all their bounties bring;
There eternal Summer dwells,
And west-winds with musky wing
About the cedarn alleys fling
J^Iard and Cassia's balmy smells.

fJow my task is smoothly done, 440

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, 450
Heaven itself would stoop to her.

Chorus. Taught by virtue, you may climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or, if Virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.

THE END.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY

EUPHROSYNE, WITH A WAND AND CCP.

Some critic, or I'm much deceived, will ash,

"What means this wild, this allegoric masque?

Beyond all bounds of truth this author shoots;

Can wands or cups transform men into brutes?

'Tis idle stuff!"And yet I'll prove it true;

Attend; for sure I mean it not of you.

The mealy fop, that tastes my cup, may try,

How quich the change from beau to butterfy;

But o'er the Insctl should the Brute prevail,

He grins a monhey with a length ofta.il. lo

One strohe of this,* as sure as Cupid's arrow,

Turns the warm youth into a wanton sparrow.

Nay, the cold prude becomes a slave to love,

Feels a new warmth, and cooes a billing dove.

The sly coquet, whose artful tears beguile

Unwary hearts, weeps a false crocodile.

Dull poring pedants, shoch'd at truth's heen light,

Turn moles, and plunge again in friendly night;

Misers grow vultures, of rapacious mind,

Or more than vultures, they devour their hind; seo

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