« VorigeDoorgaan »
Nard and Caffia’s balmy smells.
995 And drenches with Elyfian dew (Lift mortals, if your ears be true) Beds of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound
1000 In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly fits th’ Affyrian queen ; But far above in spangled Theen Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc'd, Holds his dear Pfyche fweet intranc’d, 1005 After her wand'ring labors long, Till free consent the Gods among Make her his eternal bride, And from her fair unspotted fide Two blissful twins are to be born,
2010 Youth and Joy ; fo Jove hath sworn.
But now my task is fmoothly done,
Mortals that would follow me,
L Y CK
L Y CI DA S.
In this monody the author bewails a learned friend,
unfortunately drown din his paisage from Chelter on the Irish leas, 1637. and by occasion foretels the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their highth.
E T once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never sere, 1 come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude Shatter leaves before the mellowing year. S Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not fing for Lycidas ? he knew Himself to fing, and build the lofty rhime. He must not flote upon his watry bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, IS That from beneath the feat of Jove doth spring, Begin, and somewhat loudly fweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excufe, So
may some gentle Muse With lucky words favor my
urn, And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my fable shroud. For we were nurft upon the self-fame hill, Fed the same flock by fountain, fhade, and rill.
Together both, ere the high lawns appeard 25 Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her fultry horn, Battning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 30 Toward Heaven's descent had nop'd his west'ring Mean while the rural ditties were not mute, (wheel. Temper'd to th’oaten flute, Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel From the glad found would not be abfent long, 35 And old Ďamætas lov'd to hear our song.
But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn.
41 The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the role,
45 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flow'rs, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows ; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to fhepherds ear.
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ? s' For neither were ye playing on the iteep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard fream : 55 Ay me! I fondly dream Had
been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Mufe herself for her inchanting son,
Whom universal nature did lament,
Alas! What boots it with incessant care
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honor'd food,85
And sage Hippo:ades their answer brings,
Next Camus, reverend fire, went footing flow,