ARCADES. I. SONG. Look, Nymphs and Shepherds, look, What sudden blaze of majesty Is that which we from hence descry, Too divine to be mistook : This, this is she To whom our vows and wishes bend; Here our solemn search hath end. Fame, that, her high worth to raise, Mark, what radiant state she spreads, Sitting, like a Goddess bright, Might she the wise Latona be, Mother of a hundred Gods? Juno dares not give her odds: Who had thought this clime had held A deity so unparallel'd? As they come forward, the GENIUS of the Wood appears, 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 Alphéus, who by secret sluice 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 meant |