At other Times we reign by Night alone,

And pofting through the Skies pursue the Moon: But when the Morn arifes, none are found;

For cruel Demogorgon walks the round,

241

And if he finds a Fairy lag in Light,

He drives the Wretch before; and lashes intoNight.
All Courteous are by Kind; and ever proud
With friendly Offices to help the Good.
In every Land we have a larger Space

Than what is known to you of mortal Race:
Where we with Green adorn our Fairy Bow'rs,
And ev'n this Grove, unfeen before, is ours.

Know farther; Ev'ry Lady cloth'd in White,

And, crown'd with Oak and Lawrel ev'ryKnight,
Are Servants to the Leaf, by Liveries known
Of Innocence; and I my felf am one.

Saw you not Her fo graceful to behold

In white Attire, and crown'd with radiant Gold?
The Sovereign Lady of our Land is She,
Diana call'd, the Queen of Chaftity:

And, for the spotlefs Name of Maid fhe bears,
That Agnus caftus in her Hand appears:

And all her Train with leafie Chaplets crown'd,
Were for unblam'd Virginity renown'd:
But those the chief and higheft in Command
Who bear those holy Branches in their Hand:
The Knight's adorn'd with Lawrel- Crowns, are
they,

Whom Death nor Danger ever cou'd difmay,
Victorious Names, who made the World obey:
Who while they liv'd, in Deeds of Arms excell'd,
And after Death for Deities were held.

But those who wear the Woodbine on their Brow
WereKnights of Love, who never broke their Vow:
Firm to their plighted Faith, and ever free
From Fears and fickle Chance, and Jealousie.
The Lords, and Ladies, who the Woodbine bear,
As true as Triftram and Ifotta were.

But what are thofe, faid I, th' unconquer'd Nine, Who crown'd with Lawrel-Wreaths in golden Armour fhine?

And who the Knights in Green, and what the Train Of Ladies drefs'd with Daifies on the Plain? Why both the Bands in Worfhip disagree,

And fome adore the Flow'r, and fome the Tree?

Juft is your Suit, fair Daughter, faid the Dame, Thofe lawrell'd Chiefs were Men of mighty Fame; Nine Worthies were they call'd of diff'rent Rites, Three Jews, three Pagans, and three Christian Knights.

Thefe, as you fee, ride foremost in the Field,
As they the foremost Rank of Honour held,
And all in Deeds of Chivalry excell❜d.
Their Temples wreath'd with Leaves, that still re-
For deathless Lawrel is the Victor's due: [new;
Who bear the Bows wereKnights in Arthur'sReign,
Twelvethey, and twelve the Peers of Charlemain:
For Bows the Strength of brawny Arms imply,
Emblems of Valour, and of Victory.

Behold an Order yet of newer Date,
Doubling their Number, equal in their State;
Our England's Ornament, the Crown's Defence,
In Battel brave, Protectors of their Prince.
Unchang'd by Fortune, to their Sovereign true,
For which their manly Legs are bound with Blue.
Thefe, of the Garter call'd, of Faith unftain'd,
In fighting Fields the Lawrel have obtain❜d,
And well repaid thofe Honours which they gain'd..

The Lawrel-Wreaths were first by Cafar worn,
And still they Cafar's Succeffors adorn:
One Leaf of this is Immortality,

And more of Worth, than all the World can buy.

One Doubt remains, faid I, the Dames in Green, What were their Qualities, and who their Queen? Floracommands,faid fhe,thofeNymphs andKnights, Who liv'd in flothful Eafe, and loose Delights: Who never Acts of Honour durft pursue, The Men inglorious Knights, the Ladies all untrue: Who nurs'd in Idleness, and train'd in Courts, Pafs'd all their precious Hours in Plays, and Sports, Till Death behind came stalking on, unfeen, And wither'd (like the Storm) the freshness of their Green.

These, and their Mates, enjoy the present Hour, And therefore pay their Homage to the Flow'r. But Knights in Knightly Deeds should persevere, And still continue what at first they were; Continue, and proceed in Honour's fair Career. No room for Cowardife, or dull Delay;

From Good to Better they should urge their way.

For this with golden Spurs the Chiefs are grac'd, With pointed Rowels arm'd to mend their hafte; For this with lafting Leaves their Brows are bound; For Lawrel is the Sign of Labour crown'd; Which bears the bitter Blaft, nor fhaken falls to Ground:

From Winter-Winds it fuffers no decay,

For ever fresh and fair, and ev'ry Monthis May.

Ev'n when the vital Sap retreats below,

Ev'n when the hoary Head is hid in Snow;
The Life is in the Leaf, and still between
The Fits of fallingSnows,appears the ftreaky Green.
Not fo the Flow'r, which lafts for little space,
A fhort-liv'd Good, and an uncertain Grace;
This way and that the feeble Stem is driv'n,
Weak to sustain the Storms,and Injuries of Heav'n.
Propp'd by the Spring, it lifts aloft the Head,
But of a fickly Beauty, foon to fhed;
In Summer living, and in Winter dead.

For Things of tender Kind, for Pleasure made, Shoot up with fwift Increase, and fudden are decay'd.