Part of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of Derby at Harefield, by some noble persons of her family; who appear on the scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat of state with this Song.
Look, nymphs, and shepherds, look, What sudden blaze of majesty
Is that which we from hence descry? Too divine to be mistook :
To whom our vows and wishes bend; Here our solemn search hath end.
Fame, that her high worth to raise, Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse, We may justly now accuse Of detraction from her praise; Less than half we find express'd, Envy bid conceal the rest.
Mark, what radiant state she spreads, In circle round her shining throne, Shooting her beams like silver threads; This, this, is she alone,
Sitting like a goddess bright, In the centre of her light.
Might she the wise Latona be Or the tower'd Cybele,
Mother of a hundred Gods?
Juno dares not give her odds:
Who had thought this clime had hel A deity so unparallel'd?
As they come forward, the GENIUS of the wood appears, and turning toward them, speaks. GENIUS.
Stay, gentle swains, for though in this disguise, I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes; Of famous Arcady_ye are, and sprung Of that renown'd flood, so often sung, Divine Alpheus, who, by secret sluice, Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse; And ye, the breathing roses of the wood, Fair silver-buskin'd nymphs, as great and good, I know this quest of yours, and free intent, Was all in honour, and devotion meant, To the great mistress of yon princely shrine, Whom with low reverence, I adore as mine; And, with all helpful service, will comply To further this night's glad solemnity; And lead ye where ye may more near behold; What shallow-searching fame hath left untold; Which I, full oft, amidst these shades alone, Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon : For know, by lot from Jove, I am the power Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower, To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove With ringlets quaint, & wanton windings wove. And all my plants I save from nightly ill Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill: And from the boughs brush off the evil dew, And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue, Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites, Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites. When evening gray doth rise, I fetch my round Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground; And early, ere the odorous breath of morn Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tassell'd horn Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about, Number my ranks, and visit every sprout, With puissant words, & murmurs made to bless. But else in deep of night, when drowsiness Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I To the celestial Syrens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie,
To lull the daughters of Necessity. And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear; And yet such music worthiest were to blaze The peerless highth of her immortal praise, Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, If my inferior hand or voice could hit Inimitable sounds: yet as we go, Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can show, I will assay, her worth to celebrate, And so attend ye toward her glittering state; Where ye may, all that are of noble stem, Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem.
O'ER the smooth enamell'd green, Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing,
And touch the warbled string.
Under the shady roof Of branching elm, star-proof. Follow me,
I will bring you where she sits, Clad in splendor, as befits Her deity.
Such a rural queen
All Arcadia hath not seen..
NYMPHS and shepherds, dance no more By sandy Ladon's lilied banks; On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar, Trip no more in twilight ranks; Though Erymanth your loss deplore,
A better soil shall give ye thanks. From the stony Mænalus Bring your flocks, and live with us, Here ye shall have greater grace, To serve the Lady of this place. Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. Such a rural queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
QUAL in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella Che mal si spande a disusata spera Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insù la lingua snella Desta il fior novo di strania favella. Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera, Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno. Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss'il mio cour lento e'l duro seno A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.
RIDONSI donne e giovani amorosi M' accostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi, Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana Verseggiando d' amor, e comte t'osi? Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana, E de pensieri lo miglior t'arrivi; Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi Altri lidi t'aspettan, ed altre onde Nelle cui verdi sponde
Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma L'immortal guiderdon d' eterne frondi Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma?
Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi Dice mia Donna, e'l suo dir, é il mio cnore Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.
DIODATI, e tel' dirò con maraviglia,
Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar soléa E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea
Gia caddi, ov' huom dabben talhor s'impiglia. Ne treccie d'oro, ne guanc a vermiglia M'abbaglian sì, ma sotto nova idea Pellegrina bellezza che'l cuor bea, Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia Quel sereno fulgor d'amabil nero, Parole adorne di lingua piu d'una, E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemispero Traviar ben puo la faticosa Luna,
O NIGHTINGALE, that, on yon bloomy spray, Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou, with fresh hope, the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love; O, if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh; As thou, from year to year, hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
DONNA leggiadra, il cui bel nome honora L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco; Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora ; Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora De sui atti soavi giamai parco, E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco, La onde l'alta tua virtu s'infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti
Che mover possa dura alpestre legno, Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi L'entrata, chi di te si trouva indegno; Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.
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