In the iniddle of a brook,—whose silver ramble
Down twenty little falls, through reeds and bramble,

BOOK II.
Tracing along, it brought me to a cave,
Whence it ran brightly forth, and white did lave O SOVEREIGN power of love! O grief! O balm !
The nether sides of mossy stones and rock, All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
'Mong which it gurgled blithe adieus, to mock And shadowy, through the mist of passed years :
Its own sweet grief at parting. Overhead, For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Hung a lush screen of drooping weeds, and spread Have become indolent; but touching thine,
Thick, as to curtain up some wood-nymph's home. One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,

Ah' impious mortal, whither do I roam ?' One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.
Said I, low-voiced : 'Ah, whither! 'Tis the grot The woes of Troy, lowers smothering o'er their blaze
Of Proserpine, when Hell, obscure and hot, Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,
Doih her resign: and where her tender hands Struggling, and blood, and shrieks-all dimly fades
She dabbles, on the cool and sluicy sands : Into some backward corner of the brain;
Or 't is the cell of Echo, where she sits,

Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain
And babbles thorough silence, till her wits

The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet. Are gone in tender madness, and anon,

Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat! Faints into sleep, with many a dying tone

Swart planet in the universe of deeds! Of sadness. O that she would take my vows, Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds And breathe them sighingly among the boughs, Along the pebbled shore of memory! To sue her gentle ears for whose fair head,

Many old rotten-timber'd boats there be Daily, I pluck sweet flowerets from their bed, Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified And weave them dyingly—send honey-whispers To goodly vessels ; many a sail of pride, Round every leaf, that all those gentle lispers And golden-keeld, is left unlaunch'd and dry. May sigh my love unto her pitying!

But wherefore this? What care, though owl dia fly O charitable echo! hear, and sing

About the great Athenian admiral's mast? This dirty to her!-lell her'—so I stay'd

What care, though striding Alexander past My foolish tongue, and listening, half afraid, The Indus with his Macedonian numbers? Stood stupefied with my own emply folly,

Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers
And blushing for the freaks of melancholy. The glutted Cyclops, what care ?--Juliet leaning
Salt tears were coming, when I heard my name Amid her window-flowers,—sighing,-weaning
Most fondly lipp'd, and then these accents came : Tenderly her fancy from its maiden snow,
• Endymion! the cave is secreter

Doth more avail than these: the silver flow
Than the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall stir Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen,
No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or light noise Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den,
Of thy combing hand, the while it travelling cloys Are things to brood on with more ardency
And trembles through my labyrinthine hair.' Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully
At that oppress’d, I hurried in.-Ah! where Must such conviction come upon his head,
Are those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ? Who, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread,
I'll smile no more, Peona; nor will wed

Without one muse's smile, or kind behest,
Sorrow, the way to death; but patiently

The path of love and poesy. But rest, Bear up against it: so farewell, sad sigh;

In chafing restlessness, is yet more drear And come instead demurest meditation,

Than to be crush'd, in striving to uprear To occupy me wholly, and to fashion

Love's standard on the battlements of song.
My pilgrimage for the world's dusky brink. So once more days and nights aid me along,
No more will I count over, link by link,

Like legion'd soldiers.
My chain of gries: no longer strive to find
A half-forgetfulness in mountain wind

Brain-sick shepherd-prince Blustering about my ears: ay, thou shalt see, What promise hast thou faithful guarded since Dearest of sisters, what my life shall be;

The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows What a calm round of hours shall make my days. Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows? There is a paly flame of hope that plays

Alas! 't is his old grief. For many days, Where'er I look : but yet, I'll say 't is naught Has he been wandering in uncertain ways: And here I bid it die. Have not I caught,

Through wilderness, and woods of mossed oaks , Already, a more healthy countenance ?

Counting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes By this the sun is setting; we may chance Of the lone wood-cutter; and listening still, Meet some of our near-dwellers with my car.” Hour after hour, 10 each lush-loaved rill.

Now he is sitting by a shady spring,

And elbow-deep with severous fingering This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star

Stems the upbursting cold: a wild rose-tree Through autumn mists, and took Peona's hand :

Pavilions him in bloom, and he doth see
Taey slept into the boat, and launch'd from land.

A bud which snares his fancy: lo! but now
He plucks it, dips ils stalk in the water: how
It swells, it buds, it flowers beneath his sight
And, in the middle, there is sofily pight
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541

A golden butterfly; upon whose wings

To mortal steps, before thou canst be ta’en There must be surely character'd strange things, From every wasting sigh, from every pain, For with wide eye he wonders, and smiles oft. Into the gentle bosom of thy love.

Why it is thus, one knows in Heaven above . Lightly this litile herald flew aloft,

But, a poor Naiad, I guess not. Farewell!
Follow'd by glad Endymion's clasped hands : I have a ditty for my hollow cell."
Onward it flies. From languor's sullen bands
His limbs are loosed, and eager, on he hies
Dazzled to trace it in the sunny skies.

Hereat, she vanish'd from Endymion's gaze, It seem'd he flew, the way so easy was ;

Who brooded o'er the water in amaze : And like a new-born spirit did he pass

The dashing fount pour'd on, and where its pool Through the green evening quiet in the sun, Lay, half asleep, in grass and rushes cool, O'er many a heath, through many a woodland dun, Quick waterflies and gnats were sporting still, Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams And fish were dimpling, as if good nor ill The summer-time away. One track unseams Had fallen out that hour. The wanderer, A wooded cleft, and, far away, the blue

Holding his forehead, to keep off the burr of ocean fades upon him; then, anew,

or smothering fancies, patiently sat down ; He sinks adown a solitary glen,

And, while beneath the evening's sleepy frown Where there was never sound of mortal men, Glow-worms began to trim their starry lamps, Saving, perhaps, some snow-like cadences

Thus breathed he to himself: “Whoso encamps Melting to silence, when upon the breeze

To take a fancied city of delight, Some holy bark let forth an anthem sweet,

O what a wretch is he! and when 't is his, To cheer itself to Delphi. Still his feet

After long toil and travelling, to miss Went swift beneath the merry-winged guide, The kernel of his hopes, how more than vile! Until it reach'd a splashing fountain's side

Yet, for him there's refreshment even in toil: Thai, near a cavern's mouth, for ever pour'd Another city doth he set about, Unto the temperate air: then high it soar'd, Free from the smallest pebble-head of doubt And, downward, suddenly began to dip,

That he will seize on trickling honeycombs : As if, athirst with so much toil, 't would sip Alas, he finds them dry; and then he foams, The crystal spout-head: so it did, with touch And onward to another city speeds. Most delicate, as though afraid to smutch

But this is human life: the war, the deeds, Even with mealy gold the waters clear.

The disappointment, the anxiety, But, at that very touch, to disappear

Imagination's struggles, far and nigh, So fairy-quick, was strange! Bewildered,

All human; bearing in themselves this good, Endymion sought around, and shook each bed That they are still the air, the subtle food, Of covert flowers in vain; and then he flung To make us feel existence, and to show Himself along the grass. What gentle tongue, How quiet death is. Where soil is men gros, What whisperer disturb'd his gloomy rest?

Whether to weeds or flowers, but for me, It was a nymph uprisen to the breast

There is no depth to strike in: I can see In the fountain's pebbly margin, and she stood Naught earthly worth my compassing ; so stand 'Mong lilies, like the youngest of the brood. Upon a misty, jutting head of landTo him her dripping hand she sofily kist,

Alone? No, no; and by the Orphean lute, And anxiously began to plait and twist

When mad Eurydice is listening to't, Her ringlets round her fingers, saying: “Youth ! I'd rather stand upon this misty peak, Too long, alas, hast thou starved on the ruth, With not a thing to sigh for, or to seek, The bitterness of love: too long indeed,

But the soft shadow of my thrice-seen lore, Sceing thou art so gentle. Could I weed

Than be–I care not what. O meelest dove Thy soul of care, by Heavens, I would offer Of Heaven! 0 Cynthia, ten-times bright and fair All the bright riches of my crystal coffer

From thy blue throne, now filling all the air, To Amphitrite; all my clear-eyed fish,

Glance but one little beam of temper'd light Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish,

Into my bosom, that the dreadful might Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze ; And tyranny of love be somewhat scared! Yea, or my veined pebble-floor, that draws Yet do not so, sweet queen; one torment spared, A virgin light to the deep; my grotto-sands Would give a pang to jealous misery, Tawny and gold, oozed slowly from far lands Worse than the torment's self: but rather tie By my diligent springs; my level lilies, shells, Large wings upon my shoulders, and point out My charming rod, my potent river spells;

My love's far dwelling. Though the playful rout Yes, every thing, even to the pearly cup

Of Cupids shun thee, too divine art thou, Meander gave me,- for I bubbled up

Too keen in beauty, for thy silver prow To fainting creatures in a desert wild.

Not to have dipp'd in love's most gentle stream But woe is me, I am but as a child

O be propitious, nor severely deem To gladden thee; and all I dare to say,

My madness im.pious; for, by all the stars
Is, that I pity thee; that on this day

That tend thy bidding, 1 do think the bars
I've been thy guide ; that thou must wander far That kept my spirit in are burst—that I
In other regions, past the scanty bar

Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky!

How beautiful thou art! The world how deep! Will he its high remembrancers: who they ?
How tremulous-dazzlingly the wheels sweep The mighty ones who have made eternal day
Around their axle! Then these gleaming reins, For Greece and England. While astonishment
How lithe! When this thy chariot attains

With deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went
Its airy goal, haply some bower veils

Into a marble gallery, passing through
Those twilight eyes ? Thos&eyes :-my spirit fails- A mimic temple, so complete and true
Dear goddess, help! or the wide-gaping air In sacred custom, that he well-nigh fear'd
Will gull me-help!"—At this, with mndden'd stare, To search it inwards ; whence far off appear'd,
And lifted hands, and trembling lips, he stood; | Throngh a long pillar'd vista, a fan shrine,
Like old Deucalion mountain'd o'er the flood, And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine,
Or blind Orion hungry for the morn.

A quiver'd Dian. Stepping awfully,
And, but from the deep cavern there was borne The youth approach'd ; of turning his veild eje
A voice, he had been froze to senseless stone; Down sidelong aisles, and into niches old :
Nor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passion’d moan And, when more near against the marble cold
Had more been heard. Thus swelld it forth : “ De- He had louch'd his forehead, he began to thread
scend,

All courts and passages, where silence dead,
Young mountaineer! descend where alleys bend Roused by his whispering footsteps, murmur'il faint:
Into the sparry hollows of the world!

And long he traversed to and fro, to acquaint
on hast thou seen bolts of the thunder hurl'd Himself with every mystery, and awe;
As from thy threshold ; day by day hast been Till, weary, he sat down before the maw
A liule lower than the chilly sheen

of a wide outlet, fathomless and dim, Of icy pinnacles, and dipp dst thine arms

To wild uncertainty and shadows grim.
Into the deadening ether that still charms

There, when new wonders ceased to float Defore,
Their marble being: now, as deep profound And thoughts of self came on, how crude and soro
As those are high, descend! He ne'er is crown'd The journey homeward to habitual self!
With immortality, who fears to follow

A mad-pursuing of the fog.born elf,
Where airy voices lead: so through the hollow, Whose fitting lantern, through rude nettle-brier.
The silent mysteries of earth, descend !"

Cheats us into a swamp, into a fire,

Into the bosom of a hated thing.
He heard but the last words, nor could contend
One moment in reflection: for he fled
Into the fearsul deep, to hide his head
From the cle noon, the trees, and coming madness. What misery most drowningly doth sing

In lone Endymion's ear, now he has caught
'T was far too strange, and wonderful for sadness; The goal of consciousness? Ah, 't is the thought
Sharpening, by degrees, his appetite

The deadly feel of solitude: for, lo! To dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light,

He cannot see the heavens, nor the flow The region; nor bright, nor sombre wholly, Of rivers, nor hill-flowers running wild But mingled up; a gleaming melancholy ;

In pink and purple chequei, nor up-piled, A dusky empire and its diadems;

The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west, One faint eternal eventide of gems.

Like herded elephants ; nor felt, por prest
Ay, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,

Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air;
Along whose track the prince quick footsteps told, But far from such companionship to wear
With all its lines abrupt and angular:

An unknown time, surcharged with grief, away,
Out-shooting sometimes, like a meteor-star,

Was now his lot. And must he patient stay,
Through a vast antre ; then the metal woof, Tracing fantastic figures with his spear?
Like Vulcan's rainbow, with some monstrous roof “ No!” exclaimed he, “ Why should I tarry here!
Curves hugely: now, far in the deep abyss, No! loudly echoed times innumerable.
It seems an angry lightning, and doch hiss

At which he straightway started, and 'gan tell
Fancy into belief: anon it leads

His paces back into the temple's chief; Through winding passages, where sameness breeds Warming and glowing strong in the belief Vexing conceptions of some sudden change ; Of help from Dian: so that when again Whether to silver grois, or giant range

He caught her airy form, thus did he plain, Of sapphire columns, or fantastic bridge

Moving more near the while. “O Haunter chasle Athwart a flood of crystal. On a ridge

Of river sides, and woods, and heathy waste, Now fareth he, that o'er the vast beneath

Where with thy silver how and arrows keen
Towers like an ocean-cliff, and whence he seeth Art thou now forested? () woodland Queen,
A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come

What smoothest air thy smoother forehead wooes?
But as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb Where dost thou listen to the wide halloos
His bosom grew, when first he, far away,

Of thy disparled nymphs? Through what dark tree
Descried an orbed diamond, set to fray

Glimmers thy crescent? Wheresoe'er it be, Old Darkness from his throne : 't was like the sun "Tis in the breath of heaven: thou dost taste Uprisen o'er chaos : and with such a stun

Freedom as none can taste it, nor dost waste Caine the amazement, that, absorb'd in it,

| Thy loveliness in dismal elements; He saw not fiercer wonders-past the wit

But, finding in our green earth sweet contents, Of any spirit to tell, but one of those

There livest blissfully. Ah, if to thee Who, when this planel's sphering time doth close, Il feels Elysian, how rich to me,

An exiled mortal, sounds its pleasant name! Brushing, awaken'd: then the sounds again
Within my breast there lives a choking flame Went noiseless as a passing noontide rain
O let me cool it among the zephyr-boughs; Over a bower, where liule space he stood;
A homeward lever parches up my tongue For as the sunset peeps into a wood,
O let me slake it at the running springs !

So saw he panting ligh, and towards it went
Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings~

Through winding alleys; and lo, wonderment
O let me once more hear the linnet's note! Upon soft verdure saw, one here, one there
Before mine eyes thick films and shadows float Cupids a slumbering on their pinions fair.
O let me 'noint them with the heaven's light!
Dost thou now lave thy feet and ankles white ?
O think how sweet to me the freshening sluice! After a thousand mazes orergone,
Dost thou now please thy thirst with berry-juice?. At last, with sudden step, he came upon
O think how this dry palate would rejoice!

A chamber, myrile-wall’d, embower'd high,
If in sosi slumber thou dost hear my voice,

Full of light, incense, tender minstrelsy,
O think how I should love a bed of flowers

And more of beautiful and strange beside :
Young goddess ! let me see my native bowers! For on a silken couch of rosy pride,
Deliver me from this rapacious deep!”

In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth

Of fondest beauty; fonder, in fair sooth,
Thus ending loudly, as he would o'erleap Than sighis could fathom, or contentment reach
His destiny, alert he stood : but when

And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach,
Obstinate silence came heavily again,

Or ripe October's faded marigolds, Feeling about for iis old couch of space

Fell sleek about him in a thousand folds-
And airy cradle, lowly bow'd his face,

Not hiding up an Apollonian curve
Desponding, o'er the marble floor's cold thrill. Of neck and shoulder, nor the tenting swerre
But 'l was not long; for, sweeter than the rill Of knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light;
To its old channel, or a swollen tide

But rather, giving them to the tilld sight
To margin sallows, were the leaves he spied, Olliciously. Sideway his face reposed
And flowers, and wreaths, and ready myrile crowns On one white arm, and tenderly unclosed,
Up peeping through the slab: refreshment drowns By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth
Itself, and strives its own delights to hide-

To slunibery pout; just as the morning south
Nor in one spot alone; the floral pride

Disparts a dew-lipp'd rose. Above his head, In a long whispering birth enchanted grew Four lily stalks did their white honors wed Before bis footsteps; as when heaved anew To make a coronal; and round him grew Old ocean rolls a lengthen'd wave to the shore, All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, Down whose green back the shortlived foam, all hoar, Together intertwined and iramellid fresh : Bursts gradual, with a wayward indolence. 'The vine of glossy sprout; the iry mesh,

Shading its Ethiop berries; and woodbine, Increasing still in heart, and pleasant sense, Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine ; Upon his fairy journey on he hastes;

Convolvulus in streaked vases flusb ;
So anxious for the end, he scarcely wastes

The creeper, mellowing for an autumn blash;
One moment with his hands among the sweets : And virgin's bower, trailing airily;
Onward he goes--he stops-his bosom beats With others of the sisterhood. Hard by,
As plainly in his ear, as the faint charm

Stood serene Cupids watching silently.
Of which the throbs were born. This still alarm, One, kneeling to a lyre, touched the strings,
This sleepy music, forced hin walk tiptoe :

Muffling to death the pathos with his wings;
Fo: it came more sostly than the east could blow And, ever and anon, uprose to look
Arion's magic to the Atlantic isles;

At the youth's slumber; while another took
Or than the west, made jealous by the smiles A willow bough, distilling odorous dew,
Of throned Apollo, could breathe back the lyre And shook it on his hair; another flew
To seas Ionian and Tyrian.

In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise

Rain'd violets upon his sleeping eyes.
O did he ever live, that lonely man,
Who loved-and music slew nou? "Tis the rest
or love, that fairest joys give most unrest ;

At these enchantments, and yet many more
That things of delicate and tenderest worth The breathless Latmian wonderd o'er and o'er,
Are swallow'd all, and made a seared dearth, Until impatient in embarrassment,
By one consuming flame: it doth immerse

He forthright pass'd, and lightly treading went
And suffocate true blessings in a curse.

To that same feather'd lyrist, who straightway, Half-happy, by comparison of bliss,

Smiling, thus whisper'd: “Though from upper day Is miserable. 'Twas even so with this

Thou art a wanderer, and thy presence here
Dew-dropping inelody, in the Carian's ear; Might seem unholy, be of happy cheer!
First heaven, then hell, and then forgotten clear, For 't is the nicest touch of human honor.
Vanish'd in elemental passion.

When some ethereal and high-favoring donor

Presents immortal bowers to mortal sense ;
And down some swart abysm he had gone, As now 'tis done to thee, Endymion. Hence
Had not a heavenly guide benignant led

Was I in nowise startled. So recline
To where thick myrule branches, 'gainst his head Upon these living flowers. Here is wine,

Alive with sparkles-never, I aver,

Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists, Since Ariadne was a vintager,

And doubling overhead their little fists So cool a purple : laste these juicy pears,

In backward yawns. But all were soon alive: Sent me by sud Vertumnus, when his fears For as delicious wine doch, sparkling, dive Were high about Pomona : here is cream,

In nectar'd clouds and curls through water fair, Deepening 10 richness from a snowy gleam; So from the arbor roof down swellid an air Sweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm d Olorous and enlivening; making all For the boy Jupiter : and here, undimmu

To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call By any touch, a bunch of blooming plums

For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed gieen Ready to melt belween an infant's gums :

Disparied, and far upward could be seen And here is manpa pick'd from Syrian trees, Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne, In starlight, by the three Hesperides.

Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn, Feast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know Spun off a drizzling dew,—which falling chill Of all these things around us." He did so, On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still Still brooding o'er the cadence of his lyre; Nestle and turn uneasily about. And thus: “I need not any hearing tire

Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch'd By telling how the sea-born goddess pined

out, For a morial youth, and how she strove to bind And silken traces lighten'd in descent; Him all in all unto her doting self.

And soon, returning from love's banishmer f,
Who would not be so prison'u ? but, fond elf, Queen Venus leaning downward open-arm'd :
He was content to let her amorous plca

Her shadow fell upon his breast, and charm'd
Faint through his careless arms; content to see A tumult to his heart, and a new life
An unseized heaven dying at his feet;

Into his eyes. Ah, miserable strise,
Content, О fool! to make a cold retreat,

But for her comforting! unhappy sight, When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn, But meeting her blue orbs! Who, who can write Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born

Of these first minules? The unchariest muse Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes To embracements warm as theirs makes coy exc use. Were closed in sullen moisture, and quick sighs Came ver'd and pettish through her nostrils small. O it has ruffled every spirit there, Hush! no exclaim-yel, justly mighist thou call Saving Love's self, who stands superb to share Curses upon his head.— I was half glad,

The general gladness : awfully he stands ; But my poor mistress went distract and mad, A sovereign quell is in his waving hands, When the moar lusk'd him: so away she flew No sight can bear the lightning of bis bow; To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew His quiver is mysterious, none can know Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard; What themselves think of it; from forth his eyes Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes : Each summer-time to life. Lo! this is he,

A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who That same Adonis, sase in the privacy

Look full upon it feel anon the blue of this still region all his winter-sleep.

Of his fair eyes run liquid through their souls. Ay, sleep; for when our love-sick queen did weep Endymion feeis it, and no more controls Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower The burning prayer within him; so, bent low, Heal'd up the wound, and, with a balmy power, He had begun a plaining of his woe. Medicined death to a lengthen d drowsiness : But Venus, bending forward, said : “ My child, The which she Gills with visions, and doth dress Favor this gentle youth; his days are wild In all this quiet luxury; and haih set

With love-he-but alas ! too well I see Us young immortals, without any let,

Thou know'st the deepness of his misery. To watch his slumber through: "Tis well-nigh pass'd, Ah, smile not so, my son: I tell thee irue, Even to a moment's filling up, and fast

That when through heavy hours I used to rue She scuds with summer breezes, to pant through The endless sleep of this new-born Adon', The first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew This stranger aye I pitied. For upon Embower'd sports in Cytherea's isle.

A dreary morning once I fled away Look, how those winged listeners all this while Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray Stand anxious: see! behold!”—This clamant word For this my love: for vexing Mars had teased Bioke through the careful silence; for they heard Me even to tears: thence, when a little eased. A rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutler'd Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood. Pigeons and doves: Adonis something mutier d, I saw this youth as he despairing stood: The while one hand, that erst upon his thigh Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind, Lay dormant, moved convulsed and gradually Those same full fringed lids a constant blind Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum Over his sullen eyes : I saw him throw Of sudden voices, echoing, “Come! come!

Himself on wither'd leaves, even as though Arise! awake! Clear summer has forth walk'd Death had come sudden; for no jot he moved, Unto the clover-sward, and she has talk'd

Yet muller'd wildly. I could hear he loved Full soothingly to every nested finch:

Some fair immortal, and that his embrace Rise, Cupids! or we'll give the bluebell pinch Had zoned her through the night. There is no traco To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life begin!" Of this in heaven: I have mark'd each cheek, At this, from every side they hurried in,

And find it is the vainesi thing to seek;