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And of those demons that are found
100 Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.
But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
105 Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek And made Hell grant what Love did seek ! Or call up him that left half-told The story of Cambuscan bold,
11C Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canacé to wife, That own'd the virtuous ring and glass ; And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride : 115 And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung Of turneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear,
119 Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus, Night, oft see me in thy påle career, Till civil-suited Morn appear, Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont With the Attic Boy to hunt, But kercheft in a comely cloud
125 While rocking winds are piping loud, * Or usher'd with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves.
130 And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring
To archéd walks of twilight groves,
140 Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honey'd thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring, With such consort as they keep
145 Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep ; And let some strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in airy stream Of lively portraiture display'd, Softly on my eyelids laid :
150 And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, Or the unseen Genius of the wood. But let my due feet never fail
155 To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high-embowed roof, With antique pillars massy-proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light :
160 There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced quire below In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies,
165 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell Where I may sit and rightly spell
170 Of every star that heaven doth show, And every herb that sips the dew ;
Till old experience do attain
These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 176
114 SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA
Where the remote Bermudas ride
• What should we do but sing His praise 5
And in these rocks for us did frame
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC
Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse! Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; And to our high-raised phantasy present
5 That undisturbéd Song of pure concent Ay sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne
To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee ; Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 10 Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow; And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms
15 Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise ; As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made 21 To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In perfect diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that Song, 25 And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long
To His celestial consort us unite, To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light!
ALEXANDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER
By Philip's warlike son-
5 His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound
(So should desert in arms be crown'd);
None but the brave
None but the brave
Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
And heavenly joys inspire.