And fancies fond 2 with gaudy shapes possess,

As thick and numberless

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,

Or likest hovering dreams,

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.

But hail, thou Goddess sage and holy,
Hail, divinest Melancholy!

Whose saintly visage is too bright

And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 46
And hears the Muses in a ring

Aye round about Jove's altar sing;
And add to these retirèd Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; 50
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring
Him that yon soars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The cherub Contemplation;
And the mute Silence hist along,
'Less Philomel3 will deign a song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke
Gently o'er the accustomed oak.
Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of

folly,

Most musical, most melancholy!

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy even-song;
And, missing thee, I walk unseen

55

60

65

15

On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon

Riding near her highest noon,

Like one that had been led astray

To hit the sense of human sight,
And therefore to our weaker view
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue;
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,
Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove
To set her beauty's praise above
The sea nymphs', and their powers of
fended.

Yet thou art higher far descended:
Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore
To solitary Saturn bore;

His daughter she (in Saturn's reign
Such mixture was not held a stain).
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure,

All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
1 profit.

? foolish.

20

25

30

95

100

Where I may oft outwatch the Bear
With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere
The spirit of Plato, to unfold
What worlds or what vast regions hold 90
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook;
And of those demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or underground,
Whose power hath a true consent,
With planet or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In sceptered pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskined stage.
But, O sad Virgin! that thy power
Might raise Musæus from his bower;
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what love did seek;
Or call up him that left half-told
The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife
That owned the virtuous1 ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass,
On which the Tartar king did ride;
And if aught else great bards beside
In sage
and solemn tunes have sung,
Of tourneys, and of trophies hung,
Of forests, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the

ear.

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115

120

125

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,
Till civil-suited Morn appear,
Not tricked2 and frounced as she was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt,
But kerchieft in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud;
Or ushered with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves,
With minute-drops from off the eaves. 130
And when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,
Where the rude axe with heavèd stroke
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
1 magical.

135

2 adorned.

westering wheel.

trade,

65 And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done, as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise

70

3 fattening.

And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise,"

Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears:

"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

Nor in the glistering foil

80

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor
lies;
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure
eyes

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy
meed."

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood, 85 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,

That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my oat proceeds,

And listens to the herald of the sea,
That came in Neptune's plea.

90

He asked the waves, and asked the felon1 winds,

What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?

And questioned every gust of rugged wings

That blows from off each beaked promontory:

They know not of his story;

95

But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw

Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no

That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian

Muse,

And call the vales, and bid them hither cast

Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.

135

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers. use5

Of shades and wanton winds and gushing brooks,

On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,

Throw hither all your quaint enamelled

eyes,

3 accomplish their end. 5 dwell.

harsh, discordant. the Dog-star, Sirius.

more;

Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,

In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,

186 While the still morn went out with sandals grey;

He touched the tender stops of various quills,8

With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190

And now was dropped into the western bay. At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:

To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures