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To wit, a barbarous world to civilize.

Earth was till tben a boundless forest wild,
So pass'a his youthful morning, void of care,
Wild as the colts that through the commons run:

Nought to be seen but savage wood and skies;
For him no tender parents troubled were,

No cities nourish'd arts, no culture smild, He of the forest seem'd to be the son,

No government, no laws, no gentle manners mild.
And Certes had been utterly undone,

But that Minerva pity of him took,
With all the gods that love the rural wonne, * A rugged wight, the worst of brutes, was man;
That teach to tame the soil and rule the crook;

On his own wretched kind he, ruthless, prey'd;
Ne did the sacred Nine disdain a gentle look.

The strongest still the weakest over-ran ;

In every country mighty robbers sway'd,

And guile and ruffian force were all their trade.
Of fertile genius him they nurtur’d well,

Life was a scene of rapine, want and woe, In every science and in every art,

Which this brave knight, in noble anger made By which mankind the thoughtless brutes excel, To swear he would the rascal rout o’erthrow, That can or use, or joy, or grace, impart,

For by the powers Divine, it should no more be so?
Disclosing all the powers of head and heart;

Ne were the goodly exercises spar'd,
That brace the nerves, or make the limbs alert,

It would exceed the purport of my song,
And mix elastic force with firmness hard,

To say how this best sun from orient climes Was never knight on ground mote be with him com Came beaming life and beauty all along, par’d.

Before him chasing Indolence and crimes.
Still as he pass'd, the nations he sublimes,

And calls forth arts and virtues with his ray:
Sometimes, with early morn, he mounted gay

Then Egypt, Greece, and Rome, their golden times The hunter-steed, exulting o'er the dale,

Successive had; but now in ruins grey
And drew the roseate breath of orient day ;

They lie, to slavish sloth and tyranny a prey.
Sometimes retiring to the secret vale,
Yclad + in steel, and bright with burnish'd mail,

He strain’d the bow, or toss'd the sounding spear

To crown his toils, Sir Industry then spread
Or darting on the goal, outstripp'd the gale ;

The swelling sail, and made for Britain's coast.
Or wheel'd the chariot in its mid-career;
Or strenuous wrestled hard with many a tough compeer.

A sylvan life till then the natives led,

In the brown shades and green-wood forest lost,

All careless rambling where it lik'd them most :
At other times he pry'd through Nature's store,

Their wealth the wild deer bouncing thro' the glade ; Whate'er she in th' ethereal round contains,

They lodg’d at large, and liv'd at Nature's cost;

Save Whate'er she hides beneath her verdant floor,

spear and bow, withouten other aid, The vegetable and the mineral reigns :

Yet now the Roman steel their naked breast dig. Or else he scann'd the globe, those small domains,

may'd. Where restless mortals such a turmoil keep,

Its seas, its floods, its monntains, and its plains ; He liked the soil, he liked the clement skies,
But more he search'd the mind, and rous’d from sleep He liked the verdant hills and flowry plains.
Those moral seeds whence we heroic actions reap. “ Be this my great, my chosen isle (he cries),

This, whilst my labours Liberty sustains,
Nor would he scorn to stoop from high pursuits

This Queen of Ocean all assault disdains." Of heavenly Truth, and practise what she taught.

Nor liked he less the genius of the land, Vain is the tree of Knowledge without fruits,

To freedom apt and persevering pains, Sometimes in hand the spade or plough he caught.

Mild to obey, and generous to command, Forth-calling all with which boon earth is fraught;

Temper'd by forming Heaven with kindest, firmest Sometimes he ply'd the strong mechanic tool,

hand. Or rear'd the fabric from the finest draught;

XIX. And oft he put himself to Neptune's school,

Here, by degrees, his master-work arose, Fighting with winds and waves on the vext ocean Whatever Arts and Industry can frame; pool.

Whatever finish'd Agriculture knows,

Fair Queen of Arts ! from heaven itself who came
To solace then these rougher toils, he try'd

When Eden flourish'd in unspotted fame : To touch the kindling canvass into life;

And still with her sweet Innocence we find, With Nature his creating pencil vy’d,

And tender Peace, and joys without a name,

That, while they ravish, tranquillize the mind:
With Nature, joyous at the mimic strife :
Or, to such shapes as grac'd Pygmalion's wife,

Nature and Art, at once, delight and use combin'd.
He hew'd the marble; or, with varied fire,

He rous’d the trumpet and the martial tife;
Or bade the lute sweet tenderness inspire;

Then towns he quicker'd by mechanic arts,
Or verses fram'd that well might wake Apollo's lyre.

And bade the fervent city glow with toil;

Bade social Commerce raise renowned marts,

Join land to land, and marry soil to soil,
Accomplish'd thus, he from the woods issu'd,

Unite the poles, and without bloody spoil Full of great aims, and bent on bold emprize :

Bring home of either Ind the gorgeous stores; The work which long he in his breast had brew'd

Or, should despotic rage the world embroil, Now to perform he ardent did devise,

Bade tyrants tremble on remotest shores,

While o’er th’ encircling deep Britannia's thunder # Dwelling.

+ Clothed,

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And all th’enliven'd country beautify; The drooping Muses then he westward call'd,

Gay plains extend where marshes slept before; From the fam'd city * by Propontic sea,

O'er recent meads, th' exulting streamlets fly; What time the Turk th' enfeebled Grecian thrall’d, Dark frowning heaths grow bright with Ceres' store, Thence from their cloister'd walks he set them free,

And woods embrown the steep, or wave along the And brought them to another Castalie,

shore. Where Isis many a famous noursling breeds;

XXVIII. Or where old Cam soft paces o'er the lea

As nearer to his farm you made approach, In pensive mood, and tunes his Doric reeds,

He polish'd Nature with a finer hand:
The whilst the flocks at large the lonely shepherd feeds.

Yet on her beauties durst not Art encroach;

"Tis Art's alone these beauties to expand.

In graceful dance immingled o'er the land, Yet the fine arts were what he finish'd least,

Pan, Pales, Flora, and Pomona play'd; For why? they are the quintessence of all,

Here, too, brisk gales the rude wild common fann'd, The growth of labouring time, and slow increast;

A happy place; where free, and unafraid, Unless, as seldom chances, it should fall,

Amid the flowering brakes each coyer creature stray'd.
That mighty patrons the coy sisters call
Up to the sun-shine of uncumber'd ease,

Where no rude care the mounting thought may thrall, But in prime vigour what can last for ay?
And where they nothing have to do but please : That soul-enfeebling wizard Indolence,
Ah! gracious God! thou know'st they ask no other I whilom sung, wrought in his works decay ;

Spread far and wide was his curs'd influence :

Of public virtue much he dall'd the sense,

Even much of private ; ate our spirit out, But alas! we live too late in time :

And fed our rank luxurious vices: whence Our patrons now even grudge that little claim,

The land was overlaid with many a lout ! Except to such as sleek the soothing rhyme:

Not, as old Fame reports, wise, generous, bold, and And yet, forsooth, they wear Mæcenas' name,

stout. Poor sons of puft-up Vanity, not Fame, Unbroken spirits cheer! still, still remains

XXX. TH' eternal patron, Liberty! whose flamę,

A rage of pleasure madden'd every breast; While she protects, inspires the noblest strains,

Down to the lowest lees the ferment ran : The best and sweetest far, are toil.created gains.

To his licentious wish each must be blest,

With joy be sever'd, snatch it as he can.

Thus Vice the standard rear'd; her arrier-ban
When as the knight had fram'd, in Britain-land, Corruption call'd, and loud she gave the word,
A matchless form of glorious government,

" Mind, mind yourselves ! why should the vulgar In which the sovereign laws alone command,

man, Laws 'stablish'd by the public free consent,

The lacquey, be more virtuous than his lord ? Whose majesty is to the sceptre lent;

Enjoy this span of life! 'tis all the gods afford,” When this great plan, with each dependent art,

Was settled firm, and to his heart's content,
Then sought he froin the toilsome scene to part,

The tidings reach'd to where, in quiet hall,
And let life's vacane breathe quiet thro' the heart.

The good old knight enjoy'd well-earn’d repose.

“ Come, come, Sir Knight! thy children on thee call: XXV.

Come, save us yet, ere ruin round us close! For this he chose a farm in Deva's vale,

The demon Indolence thy toils o'erthrows." Where his long alleys peep'd upon the main;

On this the noble colour stain'd his cheeks, In this calm seat he drew the healthful gale;

Indignant, glowing through the whitening snows Here mix'd the chief, the patriot, and the swain.

Of venerable eld: his eye full-speaks

His ardent soul, and from his couch at once he breaks. The happy monarch of his sylvan train, Here, sided, by the guardian of the fold,

XXXII. He walk'd his rounds, and cheer'd his blest domain :

I will (he cry'd) so help me, God! destroy His days, the days of unstain'd Nature roll'd,

That villain Archimage. His page then straight Replete with peace and joy, like patriarchs of old.

He to him call'd, a fiery-footed boy,

Renempt Dispatch. “My steed be at the gate;

My bard attend ; quick, bring the net of Fate.” Witness, ye lowing herds ! who gave him milk;

This net was twisted by the sisters three, Witness, ye flocks! whose woolly vestments far

Which when once cast o'er barden'd wretch, too late Exceed soft India's cotton or her silk;

Repentance comes: replevy cannot be Witness, with Autumn charg'd, the nodding car,

From the strong iron grasp of vengeful destiny. That homeward came beneath sweet evening's star, Or of September moons the radiance mild :

XXXIII. O hide thy head, abominable War!

He came, the bard, a little Druid wight,
Of crimes and ruffian idleness the child: (vild.t Of withered aspect; but his eye was keen,
From heaven this life ysprung, from hell thy glories With sweetness mix'd. In russet brown bedight,

As is his sister* of the copses green,

He crept along, unpromising of mien.
Nor from his deep retirement banish'd was

Gross he who judges so. His soul was fair, care of rural Industry ;

Bright as the children of yon azure sheen. Still

, as with grateful change the seasons pass, True comeliness, which nothing can impair, New scenes arise, new landscapes strike the eye, Dwells in the mind; all else is vanity and glare.



† Vile.

* The nightingale.

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But when he saw, in goodly geer* array'd, Come, quoth the Knight, a voice has reach'd mine ear: The grave majestic knight approaching nigh, The demon Indolence threats overthrow

And by his side the bard so sage and staid, To all that to mankind is good and dear :

His count'nance fell; yet oft his anxious eye Come, Philomelus ! let ns instant go,

Mark'd them, like wily fox who roosted cock doth spy.
O’erturn his bowers, and lay his castle low.

Those men, those wretched men! who will be slaves,
Must drink a bitter wrathful cup of woe!

Nathless, t with feign'd respect, he bade give back
But some there be, thy song, as from their graves, The rabble rout, and welcom'd them fuil kind;
Shall raise. Thrice happy he! who without rigour Struck with the noble twain, they were not slack

His orders to obey, and fall behind.

Then he resum'd his song; and, unconfin'd,

Pour'd all his music, ran through all his strings; Issuing forth, the Knight bestrode his steed,

With magic dust their eyne he tries to blind;
Of ardent bay, and on whose front a star

And virtue's tender airs o'er weakness flings.
Shone blazing bright: sprung from the generous breed
That whirl of active day the rapid car,

What pity base his song who so divinely sings !
He pranc'd along, disdaining gate or bar.

Meantime the bard on milk-white palfrey rode;

Elate in thought, he counted them his own,
An honest, sober beast, that did not mar
His meditations, but full softly trode;

They listen’d so intent with fix'd delight;
And much they moraliz'd as thus yfere * they yode.

But they instead, as if transmew'd to stone,

Marvel'd he could with such sweet art unite

The lights and shades of manners, wrong and right.

Mean time the silly crowd the charm devuur, They talk'd of virtue, and of human bliss;

Wide pressing to the gate. Swift on the knight What else so fit for man to settle well?

He darted fierce, to drag him to his bower,
And still their long researches met in this,

Who back’ning shunn'd his touch, for well he knew
This truth of truths, which nothing can refel;
“ From virtue's fount the purest joys out-well,
Sweet rills of thought that cheer the conscious soul:

While vice pours forth the troubled streams of hell,

As in throng'd amphitheatre, of old, The which, howe'er disguis'd, at last with dole

The wary Retiarius | trapp'd his foe,
Will thro' the tortur'd breast their fiery torrent roll."

Even so the knight, returning on him bold,

At once involv'd him in the net of woe,
At length it dawn'd, that fatal valley gay,

Whereof I mention made not long ago. O'er which high wood-crown'd hills their summits rear:

Enrag'd at first, he scorn'd so weak a jail, On the cool height awhile our palmers stay,

And leapt, and flew, and flounced to and fro; And, spite even of themselves, their senses cheer;

But when he found that nothing could avail, Then to the wizard's wonne their steps they steer:

He sat him felly down, and gnaw'd his bitter nail.
Like a green isle it broad beneath them spred,

With gardens round, and wandering currents clear,
And tufted groves to shade the meadow-bed,

Alarm'd, th' inferior demons of the place Sweet airs and song; and without hurry all seemed Rais'd rueful shrieks and hideous yells around, glad.

Black stormy clouds deform'd the welkin's face,

And from beneath was heard a wailing sound, “ As God shall judge me, knight! we must forgive,"

As of infernal sprites in cavern bound;

A solemn sadness every creature strook, The half-enraptur'd Philomelus cry'd, “ The frail good man, deluded, here to live,

And lightnings flasb’d and horror rock'd the ground:

Huge crowds on crowds out pour'd with blemish'd And in these groves his musing fancy hide.

look, Ah! nought is pure. It cannot be deny'd That virtue still some tincture has of vice,

As if on time's last verge this frame of things had

shook. And vice of virtue. What should then betide, But that our charity be not too nice?

Come, let us those we can to real bliss entice.”

Soon as the short-liv'd tempest was yspent,

Steam'd from the jaws of vex'd Avernus' hole, “ Ay, sicker, + (quoth the knight) all flesh is frail,

And hush'd the Irubbub of the rabblement, To pleasant sin and joyous dalliance bent;

Sir Industry the first calm moment stole : But let not brutish vice of this avail,

“ There must (he cry'd) amid so vast a shoal, And think to 'scape deserved punishment.

Be some who are not tainted at the heart, Justice were cruel, weakly to relent;

Not poison's quite by this same villain's bowl; From Mercy's self she got her sacred glaive;

Come then, my bard! thy heavenly fire impart; Grace be to those who can and will repent;

Touch soul with soul, till forth the latent spirit start," But penance, long and dreary, to the slave,

Who must in floods of fire his gross foul spirit lave."

The bard obey'd; and taking from his side,

Where it in seemly sort depending hung,
Thus holding high discourse, they came to where His British harp, its speaking strings he try'd,
The cursed carle was at bis wonted trade,

The which with skilful touch he deftly strung,
Still tempting hecdless men into his snare,
In witching wise, as I before have said:

* Dress.

$ Nevertheless.

1 A gladiator, who made use of a net, which he threw over * Together. + Sure, surely.

Sword. his adversary,

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Till tinkling in clear symphony they rung:

Then as he felt the muses come along,

“ Dumb, too, had been the sage historic Muse
Light o'er the chords his raptur'd hand he flung,

And perish'd all the sons of ancient fame;
And play'd a prelude to his rising song;

Those starry lights of virtue, that diffuse
The whilst, like midnight mute, ten thousands round

Through the dark depth of time their vivid flame, him throng.

Had all been lost with such as have no name.

Who then had scorn'd his ease for others' good ?
Thus, ardent, burst his strain :-

Who then had toil'd rapacious men to tame ?

Ye hapless race! Who in the public breach devoted stood, Dire-labouring here to smother Reason's ray,

And for his country's cause been prodigal of blood ?
That lights our Maker's image in our face,

And gives us wide o'er earth unquestion’d sway,
What is th' ador'd Supreme Perfection, say

“ But should to fame your hearts unfeeling be, What but eternal never-resting soul,

If right I read, you pleasure all require :
Amighty power, and all-directing day;

Then hear how best may be obtain'd this fee,
By whom each atom stirs, the planets roll;

How best enjoy'd this nature's wide desire.
Wło fills, surrounds, informs, and agitates the whole? Toil, and be glad! let Industry inspire

Into your quicken'd limbs her buoyant breath!

Who does not act is dead : absorpt entire
" Come, to the beaming God your hearts unfold!

In miry-sloth, no pride, no joy he hath :
Draw from its fountain life! 'Tis thence, alone,

O leaden-hearted men, to be in love with death!
We can excel. Up from unfeeling mold,
To seraphs burning round th’ Almighty's throne,

Life rising still on life, in higher tone,

“ Ah! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven,
Perfection forms, and with perfection, bliss.
In universal nature this clear shown,

When drooping health and spirits go amiss ?
Nor needeth proof: to prove it were, I wis,*

How tasteless then whatever can be given ?

Health is the vital principle of bliss,
To prove the beauteous world excels the brute abyss.

And exercise of health. In proof of this,

Behold the wretch who slugs his life away,
“ Is not the field, with lively culture green,

Soon swallow'd in disease's sad abyss;
A sight more joyous than the dead morass ?

While he whom toil has brac'd, or manly play,
Do not the skies, with active ether clean,

Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as And fann'a by sprightly zephyrs, far surpass

The foul November fogs, and slumb'rous mass,

With which sad Nature veils her drooping face?
Does not the mountain-stream, as clear as glass, “ 0, who can speak the vigorous joys of health!
Gay dancing on, the putrid pool disgrace?

Unclogg'd the body, and unobscur'd the mind;
The same in all holds true, but chief in human race.

The morning rises gay with pleasing stealth,

The temperate evening falls serene and kind.

In health the wiser brutes true gladness find.
“ It was not by vile loitering in ease,

See! how the younglings frisk along the meads, That Greece obtain'd the brighter palm of art,

As May comes on and wakes the balmy wind;
That soft yet ardent Athens learn’d to please,

Rampant with life, their joy all joy exceeds ;
To keen the wit, and to sublime the heart,

Yet what but high-strung health this dancing plea-
In all supreme complete in ev'ry part !

saunce breeds?
It was not thence majestic Rome arose,

And o'er the nations shook her conquering dart;
For sluggard's brow the laurel never grows;

“ But here, instead, is foster'd every ill,
Renown is not the child of indolent repose.

Which or distemper'd minds or bodies know.

Come then, my kindred spirits ! do not spill

Your talents here. This place is but a show,
“ Had unambitious mortals minded nought

Whose charms delade you to the den of woe:
But in loose joy their time to wear away,

Come, follow me, I will direct you right,
Had they alone the lap of Dalliance sought,

Where Pleasure's roses, void of serpents, grow · Pleas'd on her pillow their dull heads to lay,

Sincere as sweet : come, follow this good knight, Rude nature's state had been our state to day;

And you will bless the day that brought him to your No cities e'er their towery fronts had rais’d,

No arts had made us opulent and gay;

With brother-brutes the human race had graz'd;
None e'er had soar'd to fame, none honour'd been, “ Some he will lead to courts, and some to camps,
none prais'd.

To senates some, and public sage debates,

Where, by the solemn gleam of midnight-lamps, LII,

The world is pois'd, and manag'd mighty states; “ Great Homer's song had never fir'd the breast

To high discovery some, that new creates
To thirst of glory, and heroic deeds;

The face of earth; some to the thriving mart;
Sweet Maro's Muse, sunk in inglorious rest,

Some to the rural reign and softer fates ;
Had silent slept amid the Mincian reeds :

To the sweet muses some, who raise the heart :
The wits of modern time had told their beads,

All glory shall be yours, all nature, and all art.
And monkish legends been their only strains ;
Our Milton's Eden had lain wrapt in weeds,

Our Shakspeare strolld and laugh'd with Warwick


who listen to my lay,

Who wretched sigh for virtue, but despair, Ne had my master Spenser charm'd his Mulla's plains. All may be done (methinks I hear them say,) * For wist to know, or think.

Even death despis’d, by generous actions fair ;

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All, but for those who to these bowers repair,

LXVI. Their every power dissolv'd in luxury,

And here and there, on trees by lightning scath'd, To quit of torpid sluggishness the lair,

Unhappy wights who loathed life yhung, And from the powerful arms of Sloth get free, Or in fresh gore and recent murder bath'd, 'Tis rising from the dead-Alas !--it cannot be !

They weltering lay; or else, infuriate flung

Into the gloomy wood, while ravens sung “ Would you then learn to dissipate the band The funeral dirge, they down the torrent rol'd : Of these huge threat'ning difficulties dire,

These, by distemper'd blood to madness stung, That in the weak man's way like lions stand,

Had doom'd themselves; whence oft, when nigh

controll's His soul appall, and damp his rising fire ? Resolve, resolve, and to be men aspire.

The world, returning bither their sad spirits howld. Exert that noblest privilege, alone,

Here to mankind indulg'd; controul desire ;
Let godlike Reason, from her sovereign throne,

Mean time a moving scene was open laid ;

That lazar-house, I whilom in my lay
Speak the commanding world. I will—and it is done.

Depainted have, its horrors deep display'd,

And gave uuvumber'd wretches to the day, “ Heavens! can you then thus waste, in shameful wise, Who tossing there in squallid misery lay. Your few important days of trial bere?

Soon as of sacred light th' unwonted smile Heirs of eternity! yborn* to rise

Pour'd on these living catacombs its ray, Through endless states of being, still more near

Through the drear caverns stretching many a mile, To bliss approaching, and perfection clear,

The sick uprais'd their heads, and dropp'd their woes Can you renounce a fortune so sublime ?

awhile. Such glorious hopes, your backward steps to steer,

And roll, with vilest brutes, through mud and stime?
No! no ! your heaven-touch'd hearts disdain the sor-

“ O Heav'n!” they cry'd, "and do we once more see did crime !”

Yon blessed sun, and this green earth so fair ?

Are we from noisome damps and pest-house free? LXII.

And drink our souls the sweet ethereal air? “ Enough! enough !" they cried.-Straight from the

O thou! or knight, or God! who holdest there crowd,

That fiend, oh! keep him in eternal chains ! The better sort on wings of transport fly :

But what for ns, the children of Despair, As when amid the lifeless summits proud

Brought to the brink of hell, what hope remains ? Of Alpine cliffs, where to the gelid sky

Repentance does itself but aggravate our pains." Snows pild on shows in wintry torpor lie, The rays divine of vernal Phoebus play ;

LXIX. Th’ awaken'd heaps, in streamlets from on high,

The gentle knight, who saw their rueful case, Rous'd into action, lively leap away,

Let fall adown his silver beard some tears : Glad warbling through the vales, in their new being gay.

“ Certes (quoth be) it is not ev'n in grace LXIII.

T' undo the past, and eke your broken years ; Not less the life, the vivid joy serene,

Nathless, to nobler worlds repentance rears, That lighted up these new-created men,

With humble hope, her eye; to her is given Than that which wings th' exulting spirit clean,

A power the truly contrite heart that cheers; When, just deliver'd from his fleshly den,

She quells the brand by which the rocks are riven; It soaring seeks its native skies agen;

She more than merely softens--she rejoices Heaven. How light its essence! how uncloggʻd its pow'rs !

Beyond the blazon of my mortal pen:
Ev'u so we glad forsook these sinful bowers;

“ Then patient bear the sufferings you have earn'd, Ev'n such enraptur'd life-such energy was ours.

And by these sufferings purify the mind :

Let wisdom be by past misconduct learn'd,

Or pious die, with penitence resign'd;
But far the greater part, with rage inflam’d,

And to a life more happy and refin’d, Dire-mutter'd curses, and blasphem'd high Jove, Doubt not you shall, new creatures, yet arise. “ Ye sons of Hate!” they bitterly exclaim'd,

Till then, you may expect in me to find What brought you to this seat of peace and love? One who will wipe your sorrow from your eyes, While with kind Nature, here amid the grove, One who will soothe your pangs, and wing you to the We pass'd the harmless sabbath of our time,

skies." What to disturb it could, fell men, emove

Your barbarous hearts ? Is happiness a crime?
Then do the fiends of hell rule in yon heav'n

They silent heard, and pour'd their thanks in tears. sublime."

" For you (resum'd the knight with sterne tone)

Whose hard dry hearts th' obdurate demon sears, LXV.

That villain's gifts will cost you many a groan ; “ Ye impions wretches !” quoth the knight in wrath, In dolorous mansion long you must bemoan “ Your happiness behold !”—Then straight a wand His fatal charms, and weep your stains away; He wav'd, an anti-magic power that hath,

Till, soft and pure as infant goodness grown, Truth from illusive falsehood to command.

You feel a perfect change; then who can say Sudden the landscape sinks on every hand;

What grace may yet shine forth in Heaven's eternal The pure quick streams are marshy puddles found ; On baleful heaths the groves all blacken'd stand; And o'er the weedy, foul, abhorred ground,

LXXII. Snakes, adders, toads, each loathsome creature crawls This said, his powerful wand he wav'd anew; around.

Instant a glorious angel train descends,

The Charities, to-wit, of rosy hue, # Born.

Sweet Love their looks a gentle radiance lends,


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