Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth fing, 145 In the center of her light. Might fhe the wife Latona be, 150 Juno dares not give her odds; 155 160 15 20 25 As they come forward, the GENIU3 of the Wood ap pears, and, turning toward them, fpeaks. GEN. STAY, gentle Swains, for though in this difguife, I fee bright honor sparkle through your eyes; To the great miftrefs of yon princely shrine, 30 35 And lead you where ye may more near behold 40 For know by lot from Jove I am the Power ET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more With puifiant words, and murmurs made to blefs; Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never fere, But elfe in deep of night, when drowsiness Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then liften I To the celeftial Syrens' harmony, That fit upon the nine infolded spheres, And fing to thofe that hold the vital shears, Such fweet compulfion doth in mufic lie, To lull the daughters of Neceflity, 11. SONG. O'ER the smooth enamel'd green, And touch the warbled string, 61 65 70 75 80 85 I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Begin then, Sifters of the facred well, So may fome gentle Mufe With lucky words favor my deftin'd urn, And as he paffes turn, 15 20 And bid fair peace be to my fable fhroud. Mean while the rural ditties were not mute, Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, The willows, and the hazel copfes green, 41 105 Such, Lycidas, thy lofs to fhepherds' ear. In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend*, unfortunately drown'd in bis Paffage from Chefer on the Irife Seas, 1637, and by occafion foretels the Ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in their bighth. Mr. Edward King, fon of Sir John King, Secretary for Ireland, a fellow-collegian and intimate friend of our author. Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorfelefs deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? 50 Alas! what boots it with inceffant care To tend the homely flighted fhepherd's trade, 65 And ftrictly meditate the thanklefs Mufe? Were it not better done, as others ufe, To fport with Amaryllis in the fhade, Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair? Fame is the fpur that the clear fpi'rit doth raise 70 (That laft infirmity of noble mind) To fcorn delights, and live laborious days; Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumor lies, 80 Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed. O fountain Arethufe, and thou honor'd flood, 85 Smooth-fliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my oat proceeds, Next Camus, reverend fire, went footing flow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet fedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105 Like to that fanguin flower infcrib'd with woe. Ah! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge? Laft came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake, Two maffy keys he bore of metals twain, (The golden opes, the iron fhuts amain) He fhook his miter'd locks, and ftern befpake, How well could I have fpar'd for thee, young fwain, Enow of fuch as for their bellies' fake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115 Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to feramble at the fhearers' feaft, And fhove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths! that fcarce themfelves know how to hold A fheep-hook, or have learn'd ought elfe the leaft That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121 What recks it them? What need they? They are fped; And when they lift, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their forannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry fheep look up, and are not fed, 125 But fwoll'n with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past, The mufk-rofe, and the well-attir'd woodbine, 145 150 Let our frail thoughts dally with falfe furmife. 160 166 Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your forrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So finks the day-ftar in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new fpangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: 171 So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves, 175 Where other groves and other fireams along, 185 Thus fang the uncouth fwain to th' oaks and ris, While the still morn went out with fandals gray, He touch'd the tender ftops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the fun had ftretch'd out all the hills, PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE, 1634, BEFORE THE EARL OF BRIDGEWATER, THEN PRESIDENT OF WALES. The Mafk was prefented in 1634, and confequently in the 20th year of our author's age. In the title-page of the first edition, printed in 1637, it is faid that it was prefented on Michaelmas night, and there was this motto, In this edition, and in that of Milton's Poems in 1645, there was prefixed to the Mafk the following dedication, TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE JOHN LORD VISCOUNT BRACKLY, SON AND HEIR APPARENT TO THE EARL OF BRIDGEWATER, &c. MY LORD, THIS poem, which received its first occafion of birth from yourself and others of your noble family, and much honor from your own person in the performance, now re turns again to make a final dedication of itself to you. Although not openly acknow ledg'd by the author, yet it is a legitimate offspring, fo lovely, and fo much defited, that the often copying of it hath tir'd my pen to give my feveral friends fatisfaction, and brought me to a neceflity of producing it to the public view; and now to offer it up in all rightful devotion to thofe fair hopes, and rare endowments of your much promifing youth, which give a full affurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live, fweet Lord, to be the honor of your name; and receive this as your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favors been long oblig'd to your most honor'd pa rents; and as in this representation your attendant Thyrfis, fo now in all real expreffion Your faithful and most |