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Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and Fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.

Her high birth and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire for her request
The god that sits at marriage-feast ;
He at their invoking came,

But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland, as he stood,
Ye might discern a cypress-bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But, whether by mischance or blame,
Atropos for Lucina came,
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoiled at once both fruit and tree.
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth;
And the languished mother's wom
Was not long a living tomb.

So have I seen some tender slip,
Saved with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Plucked up by some unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flower
New shot up from vernal shower;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Sideways, as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew she wears
Prove to be presaging tears
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hastening funeral.

Gentle Lady, may thy grave

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Peace and quiet ever have!

After this thy travail sore,

Sweet rest seize thee evermore,

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That, to give the world increase,

Shortened hast thy own life's lease:

Here, besides the sorrowing

нареду

That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon ;
And some flowers and some bays
For thy hearse, to strew the ways,

Sent thee from the banks of Came,

Devoted to thy virtuous name;

Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitt'st in glory,

Next her, much like to thee in story,

That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who, after years of barrenness,

The highly-favoured Joseph bore

To him that served for her before,

And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:
There with thee, new-welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.

L'ALLEGRO.

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from hell

always dark.

HENCE, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born

In Stygian cave forlorn

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'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-raven sings;

There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,

As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.

Gusto Bl. SeBut come, thou Goddess fair and free,

In heaven yclept 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 sager sing)

The trolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr, with Aurora plaving,

As he met her once a-Maying,
There, on beds of violets blue,

ΙΟ

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cot iambic And fresh-blown roses washed in dew,

Trochare

Filled her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair.

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful Jollity,

Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it, as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;

And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain-nymph, sweet 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-tower 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 twisted eglantine;

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While the cock, with lively din,

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Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landskip round it measures:
Russet lawns, and fallows grey,

Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim, with daisies pied;
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met
Are at their savoury dinner set

Of herbs and other country messes,

Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;

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With stories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat.

She was pinched and pulled, she said;
And he, by Friar's lantern led,

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat
To earn his cream-bowl duly set,

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When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn
That ten day-labourers could not end;
Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,

IIO

And, stretched out all the chimney's length,

Basks at the fire his hairy strength,

And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,

By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.
Towered 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 store 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, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask and antique pageantry;
Such sights 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 Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild,

And ever, against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,

Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
In notes with many a winding -bout

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Of linked sweetness long drawn out

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HENCE, vain deluding Joys,

The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you bested,

Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain,

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