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Sitting like a Goddes bright,
In the center of her light.
A deity so unparaleld?
and turning toward them, Speaks. Gen. Stay gentle Swains, for though in this disguise, I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes, Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung Of that renowned flood, so often sung, Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluse,
30 Stole under Seas to meet his Arethuse; And ye the breathing Roses of the Wood, Fair silver-buskin’d Nymphs as great and good, I know this quest of yours, and free intent Was all in honour and devotion ment To the great Mistres of yon princely shrine, Whom with low reverence I adore as mine, And with all helpful service will comply To further this nights glad folemnity; And lead ye where ye may more near behold 40 What shallow-searching Fame hath left untold; Which I full oft amidst these shades alone Have fate to wonder at, and gaze upon : For know by lot from Jove I am the powr Of this fair Wood, and live in Oak’n bowr, To nurse the Saplings tall, and curl the grove, With Ringlets quaint; and wanton windings wove.
And all my Plants I save from nightly ill,
And so attend ye toward her glittering state;
Follow me as I sing,
And touch the warbled string.
Trip no more in twilight ranks,
A better soyl Thall give ye thanks.
Though Syrinx your Pans Mistress were,
Such a rural Queen
Anno ætatis 17. On the Death of a fair Infant
dying of a Cough.
% FAIREST flower no sooner blown but
blasted, Set Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie, Summers chief honour if thou hadît out-lasted, Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie; For he being amorous on that lovely die
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss But kill'd alas, and then bewayld his fatal bliss.
For since grim Aquilo his charioter
Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which ʼmongst the wanton gods a foul reproach
3. So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr, Through middle empire of the freezing aire He wanderd long, till thee he spy'd from farr, There ended was his quest, there ceast his care. Down he descended from his Snow-soft chaire,
But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 Unhous’d thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.
But then transform’d him to a purple flower Alack that so to change thee winter had no power.
5. Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe, Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed, 31 Hid from the world in a low delved tombe; Could Heav'n for pittie thee so strictly doom?
Oh no? for something in thy face did shine Above mortalitie that shew'd thou wast divine.
6. Resolve me then oh Soul most surely blest (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear) Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hoverest Whether above that high first-moving Spheare Or in the Elisian fields (if such there were.) 40