While rocking winds are piping loud, When the gust hath blown his fill, 130 With minute-drops from off the eaves. Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 145 With such consort as they keep, And let some strange mysterious dream 150 Softly on my eyelids laid; 155 And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, But let my due feet never fail In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 165 Dissolve me into esctasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes. 175 5 10 Of every star that heaven doth shew, SONG. SWEET ECHO (From Comus, acted 1634) Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen By slow Meander's margent green, Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the So may'st thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven's har monies. Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save! Listen, and appear to us, 10 In name of great Oceanus. By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell; And her son that rules the strands; 25 By all the Nymphs that nightly dance And bridle in thy headlong wave, 30 Till thou our summons answered have. Listen and save! LYCIDAS (1638) Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 5 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 15 Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well So may some gentle Muse 20 With lucky words favour my destined urn, And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud! For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; 25 Together both, ere the high lawns appeared Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 30 Oft till the star that rose at evening bright Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute; Tempered to the oaten flute, Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 35 From the glad sound would not be absent long; And old Damotas loved to hear our song. But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone, The willows, and the hazel copses green, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 45 As killing as the canker to the rose, 50 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas? Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 55 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me! I fondly dream "Had ye been there," for what could that have done? ... What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 60 Whom universal nature did lament, When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? Alas! what boots it with uncessant care 65 To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done, as others use, |