Some time walking not unfeen
By hedge-row elms, on hillocs green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight,
While the plow-man near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his fithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilft the landskip round it measures,
Ruffet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do ftray,
Mountains on whofe barren breast
The laboring clouds do often reft,
Meadows trim with daifies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighboring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met,
Are at their favory dinner fet
Of herbs, and other country meffes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreffes;
And then in hafte her bower she leaves,
With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;
Or if the earlier feafon lead
To the tann'd haycock in the mead.
Sometimes with fecure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocond rebecs found
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play
Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How faery Mab the junkets eat,
She was pincht and pull'd, she said,
And he by frier's lanthorn led
Tells how the drudging Goblin fwet,
To earn his cream-bowl duly fet,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His fhadowy flale hath thresh'd the corn,
That ten day-laborers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend,
And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy ftrength,
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering winds foon lull'd asleep.
Towred cities please us then,
And the bufy hum of men,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With ftore of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In faffron robe, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feaft, and revelry,
With mask and antique pageantry,
Such fights as youthful poets dream,
On fummer eves by haunted ftream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonfon's learned fock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespear, fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting foul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that ty
The hidden foul of harmony;
That Orpheus' felf may heave his head
From golden flumber on a bed
Of heapt Elysian flowers, and hear
Such ftrains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.
Thefe delights if thou canft give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
PENSER O SO.
HENCE, vain deluding joys,
The brood of folly without father bred,
How little you bested,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in fome idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes poffefs, As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the fun-beams, Or likeliest hovering dreams
The fickle penfioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail, thou Goddess, fage and holy!
Hail, divineft Melancholy!
Whose faintly visage is too bright
To hit the fenfe of human fight,
And therefore to our weaker view
O'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue;
Black, but fuch as in esteem
Prince Memnon's fifter might befeem,
Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove
To fet her beauties' praife above
The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended :
Yet thou art higher far descended,
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore
To folitary Saturn bore;
His daughter fhe (in Saturn's reign,
Such mixture was not held a stain).
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in fecret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
there was no fear of Jove.
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, ftedfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of Cyprus lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and musing gait,
And looks commercing with the fkies,
Thy rapt foul fitting in thine eyes :
There held in holy paffion ftill,
Forget thyfelf to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft
Thou fix them on the earth as faft:
And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Faft, that oft with Gods doth diet,
And hears the Mufes in a ring
Ay round about Jove's altar fing:
And add to thefe retired Leifure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure;
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