Or that starr'd Ethiope queen that strove

To fet her beauty's praise above
The fea nymphs, and their powers

offended:

Yet thou art higher far defcended;
Thee bright hair'd Vefta, long of yore,
To folitary Saturn bore;

His daughter fhe (in Saturn's reign.
Such mixture was not held a stain)
Oft in glimmering bowers, and glades
He met her, and in fecret fhades
Of woody Ida's inmoft grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.

Come, penfive
Come, penfive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, fted faft, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of cypress lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and mufing gait,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy wrapt foul fitting in thine eyes;
There, held in holy paffion ftill,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft,

Thou fix them on the earth as fast :

And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Faft, that oft with Gods doth diet,
And hear the Mufes in a ring

Aye round about Jove's altar fing;
And add to these retired Leifure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ;

But Erft, and chiefeft, with thee bring
Him that yon foars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery wheeled throne,
The cherub Contemplation:
'And the mute Silence hit along,
'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong,
In her fweeteft, faddeft plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er the accuftom'd oak;

Sweet bird that fhun'ft the noife of folly,
Moft mufical, moft melancholy!
Thee, chauntrefs, oft the woods among,
I woo to hear thy evening fong:
And mifling thee, I walk unfeen
On the dry fmooth-fhaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led aftray
Through the heaven's wide pathlefs way;
And oft as if her head fhe bow'd
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

Oft on a plat of rifing ground,
I hear the far off Curfew found,
Over fome wide-water'd shore,
Swinging flow with fullen roar.

Or if the air will not permit,
Some ftill removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room,

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,

Far from all refort of mirth,

Save the cricket on the hearth,

Or

Or the bellman's drowsy charm,

To blefs the doors from nightly harm.
Cr let my lamp at midnight hour,
Be feen in fome high lonely tow'r,

Where I

may oft out-watch the Bear, With thrice great Hermes, or unfphere, The fpirit of Plato, to unfold

What worlds, or what vaft regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forfook
Her mantion in this fleshly nook:
And of those dæmons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true confent
With planet, or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In fcepter'd pall come fweeping by,
Prefenting Thebes, ar Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,

Or what (though rare) of later age,"
Ennobled hath the bufkin'd ftage.

But, O fad virgin, that thy power
Might raife Mufæus from his bower,
Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as warbled to the ftring,
Drew iron tears down Plyto's cheek,
And made hell grant what love did feck:
Or call up him that left half-told
The ftory of Cambufcan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarfife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wond'rous horfe of brass,

On which the Tartar king did ride;
And if aught elfe great bards befide
In fage and folemn tunes have fung,
Of tourneys and of trophies hung,
Of forests, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus night oft fee me in thy pale career,
Till civil-fuited morn appear,

Not trick'd and frounc'd as fhe was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt,

But kerchief'd in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,

Or ufher'd with a fhower ftill,

When the guft hath blown his fill,
Ending on the ruftling leaves,

With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the fun, begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And fhadows brown that Sylvan loves
Of pine or monumental oak,

Where the rude ax with heaved stroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in clofe covert by fome brook,
Where no profaner cye may look,
Hide me from day's garish eye,.
While the bee with honeyed thigh,.
That at her flow'ry work doth fing,
And the waters murmuring,
With fuch concert as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd fleep :.

And

And let fome strange myfterious dream,

Wave at his wings in airy ftream
Of lively portraiture difplay'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid;

And as I wake sweet mufic breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by fome spirit to mortals good,
Or th' unfeen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the ftudious cloyster's pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars maffy proof,
And ftoried windows richly dight,
Cafting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full voiced quire below,
In fervice high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetnefs, through mine ear
Diffolve me into extafies,

And bring all heav'n before mine eyes.

And may at last my weary age,
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and moffy cell,
Where I may fit and rightly spell
Of ev'ry ftar that heav'n doth fhew,
And ev'ry herb that fips the dew;
'Till old experience do attain
To fomething like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choofe to live.

MILTON,

CHAP