Where ye may all, that are of noble stem, II. SONG. O'ER the smooth enamell'd green, Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing And touch the warbled string Under the shady roof Of branching elm star proof. Follow me; I will bring you where she sits, Clad in splendour as befits Her deity. Such a rural queen All Arcadia hath not seen. III. SONG. NYMPHS and Shepherds, dance no more By sandy Ladon's lilied banks; On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar, Trip no more in twilight ranks; Though Erymanth your loss deplore, A better soil shall give ye thanks. 35 90 100 Such a rural queen All Arcadia hath not seen. XVI. LYCIDAS. In this monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637, and by occasion fortels the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height. YET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year: 5 10 Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 15 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; With lucky words favour my destin'd urn; And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 20 For we were nurst upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock by fountain, shade and rill. Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 25 30 Tow'ard Heav'n's descent had slop'd his west'ring wheel. Temper'd to th' oaten flute; Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone, The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flow'rs, that their gay wardrobe wear, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear. 19." So may some gentle Muse"....Muse in the masculine gender here means Poet, Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? 50 For neither were ye playing on the steep, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: 55 Ay me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there---for what could that have done What could the Muse herself that Orphens bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, 60 When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Fame is the spur that the 'clear spi'rit doth raise 70 (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 75 Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies; But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed." And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea; He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory: They knew not of his story; 95 And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd; The air was calm and on the level brine, Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100 Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flow'r inscrib'd with woe. 105 "Ah! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?" Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 110 89. "The herald of the sea."....Triton. |