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XIV. " For us the lark attunes his morning song, “ For us the spring depeints her ev'ry flow'r, To sooth our sleep yon fountain parls along, 66 And oaks shade us, twine into a bow'r, The penfive bard fits many a watchful hour, “ In ditty sweet, to carol forth our praise : While valour spends his days in dole and ftour,

We, wiser we, undying trophies raise “ To ever-blooming bliss, ne reck what wisdom says.

XV. “ With sprightly notes we make the welkin ring, “ In mazy daunce we tread the chequer'd ground, “ To yielding nymphs transported shepherds fing, “ Ne hard misfare emongst our train is found. “ The simple swain, who looks with cark astoun'd " Because his leman ill rewards his care, " Oh, let him stond to all a lout renown'd,

sé Ne gibing scorn her twitting bords forbear; “ Are there not other nymphs less coy, and full as fair ?"

XVI. At this the Squire wex'd pale,

“ Ne eath it is, “ Most courteous knight, he cry'd, far to remove " The thoughis of her in whom we place all bliss." Quoth Bon vivant, “ What, then thou art in love?”

« That

& That I am so these many fingults prove,"
Return'd the Squire. L'Allegro then reply'd,
4. Thou'dft better werd to yonder willow grove,

" Where foals of lovers hanging side by side, " Feed the vile carrion crows, and highten female pride.”

XVII. With that he brast into a scornful laugh, And much abash'd appear'd our constant Squire ; The others sportful the brisk vintage quaff. While thus the springal. “ Yes, I do aspire « To love the fairest of the female quire. " Three hundred virtuous damsels in this isle 6 I came to find.” Perdie, your odd desire,

« Quoth Bon-vivant, will ask thee muchel toil;
6 And thou shalt travel too full many a weary mile.

“ 'Tis not enough the conduct of the fair
Is form’d by frowning virtue's strictest leer ;
“ The blatant-beast does here in pieces tear
“ The fame of those ybred in school severe;
“ His rankling tongue throughout the rolling year
“ With baleful venom ev'ry thing consumes;
“ Where beauty's splendor gilds our northern sphere

“ He flyly creeps, and to destruction dooms “ The honour of the spring, and wisdom's early blooms.

XIX. “ The

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XIX. " The brindled lyon in the lonely wood “ Hides his grim aspect from the sight of men ; “ The pardelis and libbard's spotted brood “ Reside contented in sequester'd den ; « Not so the blatant-beast, he lives in ken « Of the proud city or well-peopled town; " Thence with detested fury he will ren,

Ne spare the prelate's lawn, or monarch's crown : « All fares alike with him, for all he tumbleth down.

" What then avails it to be fair or wise ?
" Or what avails it to be warlike knight?
" Where e'er the monster casts his fi'ry eyes,
“ Each grace, each virtue fickens at the fight.
Then, goodly Squire, until the morning's light
“ Quaff the thick darkness of the night away;
" And, when the morn shall rise, in arms bedight
• Proceed, and luck attend you on your way;
Algates we wish in truth with us you'd ever stay."

The Squire agrees, but vows, when rising morn
Shall gild the glitt'rand portals of the east,
Himself he will in habergeon adorn,
And seek around the isle the blatant-breaft:



Mean while in buxom mirth they spend the feaft.
Ill fares the mortal man too much who knows;
Oft shall he wish himself from thought releast ;

The fatal knowledge in his bosom glows,
And mars his golden rest, and murders soft repose.

Sir Chaunticleer now ey'd the rising day,
And call'd dame Partlet from her vetchy bed;
Now wakeful Phospher spreads his gleamy ray,
And the pale moon conceal'd her filver head;
The cattle brouze the lawn with dew bespread,
While ev'ry bird from out the buckets flies.
Then to the field our lover issued;

But seep had seal'd l'Allegro's drousy eyes,
And Bon-vivant also in downy slumber lies.

Our Squire, withouten drad, pursu'd his way,
And look'd around to spy this monster fell,
And many a well conceited roundelay
He sung in honour of his Columbel :
Mote he, perchaunce, destroy this spawn of hell,
How easy were the talk to him aflign'd?
The lond of Fairy doth each lond excel;

View there the paragons of womankind;
View the bright virgins there, and leave thy heart behind.

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Ah! lever should'st thou try the females there
Than thus unwise another course pursue ;
There ev'ry nymph is innocent as fair :
Try what I here advance, you'll find it true.
Hard is our fate while bliss in hopes we sew,
Some deadly fiend to blaft our joy appears;
Contentment sweet, alas, is known to few.

Thus for a while the sun the welkin chears,
But soon he hides his head, and melts in dropping tears.

Life is a scene of conteck and distress,
Ne is it longer than a winter's day;
And shall we make our few enjoyments lefs?
Far from my cot, thou blatant-beast away.
No husband's noul will I with horns array,
Ne shall my tongue it's venom'd malice wreak
On tuneful bards, whom laurel crowns apay ;

Ne will I'gainst the comely matron speak,
Or draw one pearly drop down beauty's rosy cheek.

The Squire of dames rode on with muchel tine,
And, as he cast alkaunce his greedy look,
He saw empight beneath an auncient pine
A hoary shepherd leaning on his crook;

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