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POEMS

IN THE STANZA OF SPENSER.

POEMI.

PSYCHE;

OR,

THE GREAT METAMORPHOSIS.

.BY

GLOSTER RIDLEY, D.D.

I.

Where early Phoebus sheds his milder beams,
The happy gardens of Adonis lay:
There Time, well pleas’d to wonne, a youth be.

seems.

Ne yet his wings were fledg'd, ne locks were

grey ; Round him in sweet accord the Seasons play With fruites and blossoms meint, in goodly greę; And dancing hand in hand rejoice the lea.

Sick gardens now no'mortal wight can see, Ne mote they in my simple verse descriven be,

II.

The temper'd clime full many a tree affords:
Those many trees blush forth with ripen'd fruite;
The blushing fruite to feast invites the birds;
The birds with plenteous feasts their strength re-

cruite :
And warble songs more sweet than shepherd's flute.
The gentle stream that roll'd the stones among,
Charm'd with the place, almost forgot its suite;

But list'ning and responding to the song, Loit'ring, and winding often, murmured elong.

III.

Here Panacea, here Nepenthe grew,
Here Polygon, and each ambrosial weed;
Whose vertues could decayed health renew,
And, answering exhausted nature's need,
Mote çath a mortal to immortal feed.
Here lives Adonis in unfading youth ;
Celeştial Venus grants him that rich meed,

And him successive evermore renew'th,
In recompençe for all his faithful love and truth.

IV.

Net she, I ween the wanton Queen of love,
All buxom as the waves from whence she rose,
With her twin sons, who idly round her rove,
One Eros hight, the other Anteros ;

Albeit brothers, different as foes :

This sated, sullen, apt for bickerment; That hungry, eager, fit for derring-does.

That Alies before, with scorching flames ybrent ; This foll'wing douts those fames with peevish dis

content.

V.

Celestial Venus does such ribaulds shun,
Ne dare they in her purlues to be seen;
But Cupid's torch, fair mother's fairest song
Shines with a steady unconsuming sheen ;
Not fierce, yet bright, coldness and rage between.
The backs of lyons fellonest he strod;
And lyons tamely did themselves amene ;

On nature's wild full sov’reignly he rod;
Wild natures, chang’d, confess'd the mild puissant

God.

VI.

A beauteous Fay, or heav'n descended Spright,
Sprung from her sire, withouten female's aid,
(As erst Minerva did) and Psyche hight,
In that inclosure happy sojourn made.
No art some heel'd uncomelyness betray'd,
But Nature wrought her many-color'd stole ;
Ne tarnish'd like an Aethiopian maid,

Scorch'd with the suns that ore her beauties roll; Ne faded like the dames who bleach beneath the

pole.

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