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But come,

MIRTH. HENCE, loathed MELANCHOLY,

Of ceRBERUS and blackest midnight born,

In stygian cave forlorn,
Mongst horrid thapes, and shrieks, and fights

unholy, Find out fome uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,

And the night-raven sings ;
There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,

As ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian defart ever dwell.
thou

goddess, fair and free,
In heav'n 'yclep'd EUPHROSYNE,
And by men, heart-easing MIRTH,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth,
With two sister graces more,
To ivy-crowned BACCHUS bore :
Or whether (as some fages fing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr with AURORA playing,
As he met her once a maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fill’d her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxorn, blithe, and debonair.
Hafie thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful JOLLITY,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed fmiles,
Such as hang on HEBE's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek ;
SPORT, that wrinkl’d CARE derides,
And LAUGHTER holding both his fides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right-hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, fweet LIBERTY ;

And if I give thee honour due,
Mirth admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tow'r in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twist'd eglantine:
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before :
Oft liti’ning how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the Numb’ring morn,
From the side of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking not unseen,
By edge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,
Rob’d in flames ånd amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight,
While the ploughman near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid singeth blithe,
And the mower wets his fcythe,
And ev'ry shepherd tells his tale
I'nder the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilit the landscape round it measures,
Ruffet lawns and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whole barren breast
The lab’ring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.

Towers and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighb’ring eyes.
Hard by a cottage chimney Imokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where CORYDON and THYRSIS met,
Are at their fav'ry dinner fet,
Of herbs and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ;
And then in haste her bow'r she leaves
With THESTYlis to bind the fheaves;
Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tann'd hay-cock in the mead.
Soinetimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks found
To many a youth and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a fun-line holy-day,
Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How fairy MAB the junkets eat;
She was pinch'd and pull’d, she said,
And by the friar's lanthorn led;
Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,
To earn his cream-bowl duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn,
That ten day-lab’rers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend,
And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Balks at the fire his hairy strength,
And crop-full out of doors he fings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whisp’ring winds foon lull'd alleep.

Tower'd cities please us then,
And the busy 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 saffron robe, and taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask, and antique pageantry;
Such fights as youthful poets dream
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest SHAKSPEARE, fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in Toft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting soul 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 tie
The hidden foul of harmony;
That ORPHEUS' self may heave his head
From golden Number on a bed
Of heapt Elysian flow’rs, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free
His half-regain'd EURYDICE.
These delights, if thou canst give,
MIRTH, with thee, I mean to live.

MELANCHOLY. HENCE, vain deluding joys,

The brood of folly, without father bred,

How little you befted,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!

Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy Shapes possess,

As thick and numberleis As the gay'motes that people the sun-beams,

Orlikeliest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of MORPHEUS' train. But hail, thou goddess, fage and holy! Hail, divinest MELANCHOLY! Whose faintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human fight, 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 befeem, Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauties praise above The sea nymphs, and their pow'rs offended : Yet thou art high’r far descended, The bright-hair'd vest a long of yore To solitary SATURN bore; His daughter she (in SATURN's reign, Such mixture was not held a stain,) Oft in glimmering bow'rs and glades lle met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of jove, Come, penfive nun, devout and pure, Sober, stedfast, 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,

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