| HENCE vain deluding joyes, | |
| The brood of folly without father bred, | |
| How little you bested, | |
| Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toyes; | |
| Dwell in som idle brain, | 5 |
| 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. | 10 |
| But hail thou Goddes, sage and holy, | |
| Hail divinest Melancholy, | |
| Whose Saintly visage is too bright | |
| To hit the Sense of human sight; | |
| And therfore to our weaker view, | 15 |
| Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue. | |
| Black, but such as in esteem, | |
| Prince Memnons sister might beseem, | |
| Or that Starr'd Ethiope Queen that strove | |
| To set her beauties praise above | 20 |
| The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended. | |
| Yet thou art higher far descended, | |
| Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore, | |
| To solitary Saturn bore; | |
| His daughter she (in Saturns raign, | 25 |
| Such mixture was not held a stain) | |
| Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades | |
| He met her, and in secret shades | |
| Of woody Ida's inmost grove, | |
| Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. | 30 |
| Com pensive Nun, devout and pure, | |
| Sober, stedfast, and demure, | |
| All in a robe of darkest grain, | |
| Flowing with majestick train, | |
| And sable stole of Cipres Lawn, | 35 |
| Over thy decent shoulders drawn. | |
| Com, but keep thy wonted state, | |
| With eev'n step, and musing gate, | |
| And looks commercing with the skies, | |
| Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: | 40 |
| There held in holy passion still, | |
| Forget thy self to Marble, till | |
| With a sad Leaden downward cast, | |
| Thou fix them on the earth as fast. | |
| And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, | 45 |
| Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, | |
| And hears the Muses in a ring, | |
| Ay round about Joves Altar sing. | |
| And adde to these retirèd Leasure, | |
| That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure; | 50 |
| But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, | |
| Him that yon soars on golden wing, | |
| Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne, | |
| The Cherub Contemplation, | |
| And the mute Silence hist along, | 55 |
| 'Less Philomel will daign a Song, | |
| In her sweetest, saddest plight, | |
| Smoothing the rugged brow of night, | |
| While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke, | |
| Gently o're th'accustom'd Oke; | 60 |
| Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly, | |
| Most musicall, most melancholy! | |
| Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among, | |
| I woo to hear thy eeven-Song; | |
| And missing thee, I walk unseen | 65 |
| On the dry smooth-shaven Green. | |
| To behold the wandring Moon, | |
| Riding neer her highest noon, | |
| Like one that had bin led astray | |
| Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way; | 70 |
| And oft, as if her head she bow'd, | |
| Stooping through a fleecy cloud. | |
| Oft on a Plat of rising ground, | |
| I hear the far-off Curfeu sound, | |
| Over som wide-water'd shoar, | 75 |
| Swinging slow with sullen roar; | |
| Or if the Ayr will not permit, | |
| Som still removèd place will fit, | |
| Where glowing Embers through the room | |
| Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, | 80 |
| Far from all resort of mirth, | |
| Save the Cricket on the hearth, | |
| Or the Belmans drousie charm, | |
| To bless the dores from nightly harm: | |
| Or let my Lamp at midnight hour, | 85 |
| Be seen in som high lonely Towr, | |
| Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, | |
| With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear | |
| The spirit of Plato to unfold | |
| What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold | 90 |
| The immortal mind that hath forsook | |
| Her mansion in this fleshly nook: | |
| And of those Dæmons that are found | |
| In fire, air, flood, or under ground, | |
| Whose power hath a true consent | 95 |
| With Planet, or with Element. | |
| Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy | |
| In Scepter'd Pall com sweeping by, | |
| Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line, | |
| Or the tale of Troy divine. | 100 |
| Or what (though rare) of later age, | |
| Ennoblèd hath the Buskind stage. | |
| But, O sad Virgin, that thy power | |
| Might raise Musæus from his bower | |
| Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing | 105 |
| Such notes as warbled to the string, | |
| Drew Iron tears down Pluto's cheek, | |
| And made Hell grant what Love did seek. | |
| Or call up him that left half told | |
| The story of Cambuscan bold, | 110 |
| Of Camball, and of Algarsife, | |
| And who had Canace to wife, | |
| That own'd the vertuous Ring and Glass, | |
| And of the wondrous Hors of Brass, | |
| On which the Tartar King did ride; | 115 |
| And if ought els, great Bards beside, | |
| In sage and solemn tunes have sung, | |
| Of Turneys and of Trophies hung; | |
| Of Forests, and inchantments drear, | |
| Where more is meant then meets the ear. | 120 |
| Thus night oft see me in thy pale career, | |
| Till civil-suited Morn appeer, | |
| Not trickt and frounc't as she was wont, | |
| With the Attick Boy to hunt, | |
| But Cherchef't in a comly Cloud, | 125 |
| While rocking Winds are Piping loud, | |
| Or usher'd with a shower still, | |
| When the gust hath blown his fill, | |
| Ending on the russling Leaves, | |
| With minute drops from off the Eaves. | 130 |
| And when the Sun begins to fling | |
| His flaring beams, me Goddes bring | |
| To archèd walks of twilight groves, | |
| And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, | |
| Of Pine, or monumental Oake, | 135 |
| Where the rude Ax with heavèd stroke, | |
| Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, | |
| Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. | |
| There in close covert by som Brook, | |
| Where no profaner eye may look, | 140 |
| Hide me from Day's garish eie, | |
| While the Bee with Honied thie, | |
| That at her flowry work doth sing, | |
| And the Waters murmuring | |
| With such consort as they keep, | 145 |
| Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep; | |
| And let som strange mysterious dream, | |
| Wave at his Wings in Airy stream, | |
| Of lively portrature display'd, | |
| Softly on my eye-lids laid. | 150 |
| And as I wake, sweet musick breath | |
| Above, about, or underneath, | |
| Sent by som spirit to mortals good, | |
| Or th'unseen Genius of the Wood. | |
| But let my due feet never fail, | 155 |
| To walk the studious Cloysters pale, | |
| And love the high embowèd Roof, | |
| With antick Pillars massy proof, | |
| And storied Windows richly dight, | |
| Casting a dimm religious light. | 160 |
| There let the pealing Organ blow, | |
| To the full voic'd Quire below, | |
| In Service high, and Anthems cleer, | |
| As may with sweetnes, through mine ear, | |
| Dissolve me into extasies, | 165 |
| And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes. | |
| And may at last my weary age | |
| Find out the peacefull hermitage, | |
| The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell, | |
| Where I may sit and rightly spell | 170 |
| Of every Star that Heav'n doth shew, | |
| And every Herb that sips the dew; | |
| Till old experience do attain | |
| To somthing like Prophetic strain. | |
| These pleasures Melancholy give, | 175 |
| And I with thee will choose to live. | |
