IL PENSEROSO. HENCE, vain deluding joys, The brood of Folly, without father bred! Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. But, hail! thou goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy ! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended: Thee, bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore, His daughter she; in Saturn's reign With a sad leaden downward cast, And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Aye round about Jove's altar sing; And the mute Silence hist along, |