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Ode to Evening.
IF aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,
Thy springs, and dying gales;
O nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired Sun
Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat,
His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
Now teach me, maid composed,
To breathe some softened strain,
Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit,
As, musing slow, I hail
Thy genial, loved return!
For when thy folding star- arising shows
The fragrant hours, and elves
Who slept in buds the day,
And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still,
The pensive pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadowy car,
Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene,
By thy religious gleams.
Then lead, dear votress, where some sheety lake
Reflect the last cool gleam.
Or if chill, blustering winds, or driving rain,
Views wilds and swelling floods,
And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires,
The gradual dusky veil.
While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,
While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves,
And rudely rends thy robes:
So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
Thy gentlest influence own,
PRESENTING FRUIT TO A SHEPHERDESS.
THOROUGH уon same bending plain
[Seeing the Shepherdess.]
By that heavenly form of thine,
Sprung from great immortal race
Dare with misty eyes behold,
And live! Therefore on this mould,
In worship of thy deity.
Deign it, goddess, from my hand,
Here be grapes, whose lusty blood
Sweeter yet did never crown
The head of Bacchus; nuts more brown Than the squirrels' teeth that crack them; Deign, oh, fairest fair, to take them.
For these black-eyed Driope
Hath oftentimes commanded me
Hath decked their rising cheeks in red,
Such as on your lips is spread.
Here be berries for a queen,
Some be red, some be green;
These are of that luscious meat,
The great god Pan himself doth eat;
I freely offer, and ere long
Will bring you more, more sweet and strong,
Lest the great Pan do awake,
Swifter than the fiery sun.
HER finger was so small, the ring
And to say truth (for out it must)
Her feet beneath her petticoat,