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Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great vision of the guarded mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

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Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

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And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky;

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,

Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves,

Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of Joy and Love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

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Thus sang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals grey,

He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,

With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:

And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the western bay:
At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.

160. Bellerus; the Land's Ens, it is supposed, so called from an old Cornish giant.-Namancos and Bayona, fortresses on the coast of Spain.

POEMS

ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

1.

(Anno Etatis 17.)

ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT,

DYING OF A COUGH.

O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,
Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted
Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry
For he being amorous on that lovely dye

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss,
But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal bliss.
For since grim Aquilo his charioteer
By boisterous rape th' Athenian damsel got,
He thought it touch'd his deity full near,
If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was So mounting up in icy-pearled car Through middle empire of the freezing air He wander'd long, till thee he spy'd from far:

[held

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There ended was his quest, there ceased his care.
Down he descended from his snow-soft chair,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place.

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Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;

For so Apollo, with unweeting hand,

Whilome did slay his dearly loved mate,
Young Hyacinth born on Eurota's strand,
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;

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23. Apollo, it is said by the poets, slew Hyacinth while playing at quoits, and afterwards changed him into the flower bearing his

name.

But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power.

Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead,

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Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, 30
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,
Hid from the world in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee so strictly doom?
Oh no! for something in thy face did shine
Above mortality, that shew'd thou wast divine.
Resolve me then, oh Soul, most surely blest
(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear),
Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest,
Whether above that high first-moving sphere,
Or in th' Elysian fields (if such there were)

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O say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, [flight. And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof Of shaked Olympus by mischance did'st fall; Which careful Jove in Nature's true behoof Took up and in fit place did reinstall?

Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall

Or sheeny Heav'n, and thou some goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?

Or wert thou that just maid who once before
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,
And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling youth?

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Or that crown'd matron sage white-robed Truth? 54 Or any other of that heav'nly brood

[good?

Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some

Or wert thou of the golden-winged host,

Who having clad thyself in human weed,

44. Shaked Olympus; in allusion to the war of the giants who besieged Jupiter.

50. That inst maid; Astrea, the goddess of justice.

53. I am inclined to think that Truth only is meant both in this and in the following expression, and that it is, therefore, not necessary to introduce, as the commentators have done, mercy or youth, in this line. Truth, for its purity, clear and unsoiled beauty, has all the characteristics of sweet smiling youth: for its gravity and unchanging steadiness it has the marks of matronly grace. The poet might hence very beautifully express a doubt as to whether he was to call it a youth or a matron.

To Earth from thy prefixed seat didst post,
And after short abode fly back with speed,

GO

As if to shew what creatures Heav' doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire

But oh, why didst thou not stay here below
To bless us with thy Heav'n-loved innocence,
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe
To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence
Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence,

To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire?

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To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart? But thou canst best perform that office where thou art. Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, Her false imagined loss cease to lament, And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; Think what a present thou to God has sent, And render him with patience what he lent; This if thou do, he will an offspring give That till the world's last end shall make thy name to live.

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II.

(Anno Etatis 19.)

At a Vacation Exercise in the college, part Latin, part English. The Latin speeches ended, the English thus began.

HAIL, native Language, that by sinews weak
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak,
And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips,
Half-unpronounced, slide through my infant-lips,
Driving dumb Silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before:
Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask,
That now I use thee in my latter task:
Small loss it is that hence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee:
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me, I have thither pack'd the worst:
And, if it happen as I did forecast,

The dantiest dishes shall be served up last.

68. These verses were written while there was a great

plague raging.

10

I pray thee then deny me not thy aid

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For this same small neglect that I have made :
But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure.
Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight
Which takes our late fantastics with delight,
But cull those richest robes, and gay'st attire
Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire :
I have some naked thoughts that rove about,
And loudly knock to have their passage out;
And weary of their place do only stay

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Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array ;
That so they may without suspect or fears
Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears;

Yet I had rather, if I were to choose,
Thy service in some graver subject use,

Such as may make thee search thy coffers round,
Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound;
Such where the deep transported mind may soar
Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven's door
Look in, and see each blissful deity

How he before the thunderous throne doth lie,
List'ning to what unshorn Apollo sings

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To th' touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings
Immortal nectar to her kingly sire:

Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire,
And misty regions of wide air next under,
And hills of snow and lofts of piled thunder,

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May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves, In Heav'n's defiance must'ring all his waves;

Then sing of secret things that came to pass
When beldam Nature in her oradle was;

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And last of kings, and queens, and heroes old,
Such as the wise Demodocus once told
In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast,
While sad Ulysses' soul and all the rest
Are held with his melodious harmony
In willing chains and sweet captivity.

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48. Demodocus; a musician and poet mentioned in the eighth book of the Odyssey, in which king Alcinous is represented as entertaining Ulysses. The reader, if he be curious to understand the scope of what follows, must have reference to some book of logic.

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