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While angels with their filver wings o'erfhade
The ground, now facred by thy relics made.

So peaceful refts, without a ftone, a name,
What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.
How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not,
To whom related, or by whom begot;

A heap of duft alone remains of thee;
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

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Poets themselves muft fall, like thofe they fung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whofe foul now melts in mournful lays, Shal fhortly want the gen'rous tear he pays! Then from his clofing eyes thy form fhall part, And the laft pang fhall tear thee from his heart; Life's idle bus'nefs at one galp be o'er,

The mule forgot, and thou be lov'd no more!

L'ALLEGRO.

BY MILTON.

HENCE, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn,

'Mongft horrid fhapes, and fhrieks, and fights unholy! Find out fome uncooth cell,

Where brooding darkness fpreads his jealous wings, And the night raven fings;

There, under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
But come, thou goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n yclep'd Euphrofyne,
And by men, heart-eafing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two fifter Graces more
To ivy crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as fome fages fing).
The frolic wind that breathes, the spring,
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,

D

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, blythe, and debonair.

Haft thee, Nympth, and bring with thee
Jeft 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 fleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his fides.
Come and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe,

And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain nymph, fweet 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 finging startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rife:
Then to come in fpite of forrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet brier, 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 ftruts his dames before;
Oft lift'ning how the hounds and horn
Cheerly roufe the flumb`ring morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing frill;
Sometime walking not unfeen

By hedge-row elnis, on hillocks green,

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Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his ftate,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the plowman near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid fingeth blythe,
And the mower wets his fcythe,
And every fhepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the landscape round it measures,
Ruffet lawns, and fallows grey,

Where the nibbling flocks do ftray;
Mountains on whofe barren breaft
The lab'ring clouds do often reft:
Meadows trim with daifies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide,
Towers and battlements it fees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney finoaks,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met,
Are at their favory dinner fet
Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreffes;
And then in hafte her bow'r fhe leaves,
With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;
Or if the earlier feafon lead

To the tann'd haycock in the mead.
Sometimes with fecure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,

When the merry bells ring round, i
And the jocund rebecs found

To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd fhade:
And young and old come forth to play-
On a funshine holy-day,

'Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the fpicy nut-brown ale,
With ftories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab the junkets ate,
She was pinch'd and pull'd, the faid,
And he by friars lanthorn led;
Tells how the drudging goblin fweat,
To earn his cream-bowl duly fet,
When in one night, ere glimpfe of morn,
His fhadowy flail hath threfnd the corn
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,
And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy ftrength,
And crop-full out of door he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whifp'ring winds foon lull'd afleep.
Towered cities please us then,
And the bufy hum of men;

Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold ;
With ftore of ladies, whofe bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all cominend.
There let Hymen oft appear

In faffron robe, with taper clear,

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