Find out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous

wings,

And the night-raven sings;

There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,

As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come, thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heaven yclep'd 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 sages sing)

The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,

As he met her once a Maying,

There on beds of violets blue,

And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonnair;
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity.

Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,

Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,

Such

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 honor 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-tow'r 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:

While the cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before:
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn
Chearly rouse the slumb'ring morn,

From

From the side of some hoar hill,

Through the high wood echoing shrill :
Some time walking not unseen,

By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,.
Where the great sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman near at hand.
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,

And the milk-maid singeth blithe,.

And the mower whets his scythe,
And ev'ry shepherd tells his tale,

Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures:

Whilst the landskip round it measures;

Russet lawns, and fallows gray,

Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The lab'ring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Tow'rs and battlements it sees

Bosom'd high in tufted trees,

Where perhaps some beauty lies,

The Cynosure of neighb'ring 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;
And then in haste her bow'r she leaves,.
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;
Or if the earlier season lead

To the tann'd hay-cock in the mead
Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecs sound

To many a youth and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;

And young and old come forth to play
On a sunshine holy-day,

Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,.
With stories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab the junkets eat;
She was pincht and pull'd, she said,
And by the frier's lanthorn led ; ́
Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,
To earn his cream-bowl duly set,

When

When in one night ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn,
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend,
And stretch'd 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 whisp❜ring winds soon lull'd asleep.
Tow'red 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