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And all my Plants I fave from nightly ill,
Of noisom winds, and blasting vapours chill.
And from the Boughs brush off the evil dew, 50
And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blew,
Or what the cross dire-looking Planet smites,
Or hurtfull Worm with canker'd venom bites.
When Ev'ning gray doth rise, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground;
And early ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the slumbring leaves, or taffeld horn
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
Number my ranks, and vifit every sprout
With puiffant words, and murmurs made to bless,
But els in deep of night when drowsines
Hath lock't up mortal fenfe, then listen I
To the celestial Sirens harmony,

That fit upon the nine enfolded Sphears,
And fing to those that hold the vital shears,
And turn the Adamantine spindle round,
On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such sweet compulfion doth in mufick ly,
To lull the daughters of Neceffity,

And keep unfteddy Nature to her law,
And the low world in meafur'd motion draw
After the heavenly tune, which none can hear
Of human mould with grofs unpurged ear;
And yet fuch mufick worthieft were to blaze
The peerles height of her immortal praise,
Whose luftre leads us, and for her moft fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable founds, yet as we go,

What ere the skill of leffer gods can show,
I will affay, her worth to celebrate,

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And so attend ye toward her glittering state;
Where ye may all that are of noble stemm
Approach, and kiss her facred vestures hemm.

2. SONG.

O're the smooth enamel'd green
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I fing,

And touch the warbled string.
Under the shady roof
Of branching Elm-Star-proof.
Follow me,

I will bring you where the fits
Clad in fplendor as befits
Her deity.

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not feen.

3. SONG.

Nymphs and Shepherds dance no more
By fandy Ladons Lillied banks,
On old Lycæus or Cyllene hoar,

Trip no more in twilight ranks,
Though Erymanth your lofs deplore,

A better foyl shall give ye thanks.

From the ftony Manalus,

Bring your Flocks, and live with us,
Here ye shall have greater grace,

To ferve the Lady of this place.

Though Syrinx your Pans Mistress were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not feen.

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Miscellaneous Poems.

Anno ætatis 17.

On the Death of a fair Infant dying of a Cough.

I.

FAIREST flower no fooner blown but blafted,

Soft filken Primrose fading timelefilie,

Summers chief honour if thou hadft out-lafted, Bleak winters force that made thy bloffome drie; For he being amorous on that lovely die

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss But kill'd alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss.

2.

For fince grim Aquilo his charioter
By boiftrous rape th'Athenian damfel got,
He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer,
If likewife he fome fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th'infamous blot,

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Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.

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 queft, there ceaft his care.
Down he descended from his Snow-foft chaire,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.

4.

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand
Whilome did flay his dearly-loved mate
Young Hyacinth born on Eurota's strand
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;
But then transform'd him to a purple flower
Alack that fo to change thee winter had no power.

5.

Yet can I not perfwade me thou art dead

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Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,
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 waft divine.

6.

Refolve me then oh Soul moft furely bleft
(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 Elifian fields (if such there were.)

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Oh fay me true if thou wert mortal wight And why from us fo quickly thou didft take thy flight.

7.

Wert thou fome Starr which from the ruin'd roofe Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall; Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?

Or did of late earths Sonnes befiege the wall

Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou fome goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head.

8.

Or wert thou that just Maid who once before
Forfook the hated earth, O tell me footh
And cam'ft again to vifit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth!

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Or that crown'd Matron fage white-robed truth? any other of that heav'nly brood

Or [good. Let down in clowdie throne to do the world fome

9.

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Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoast,
Who having clad thy felf in humane weed,
To earth from thy præfixed feat didft poast,
And after short abode flie back with speed,
As if to fhew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to fet the hearts of men on fire
To fcorn the fordid world, and unto Heav'n afpire.

IO.

But oh why didst thou not stay here below
To bless us with thy heav'n-lov'd innocence,
To flake his wrath whom fin hath made our foe

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