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That finging up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings, and in your notes His praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be filent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh fade, Made vocal by my long, and taught His praise.
Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still To give us only good; and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal’d, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.
In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and Irieks, and fights unholy.
Find out some uncouth cell,
And the night-raven fings;
As ragged as thy locks,
But come, thou Goddess, fair and free,
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,
And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before : Oft lifi’ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the numb'ring morn, From the fide of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing Thrill: Sometime walking not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, Right againft the eastern gate, Where the great fun begins his state, Rob'd in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman near at hand Wbifles o'er the forrow'd land, And the milk-maid fingeth blithe, And the mower whets his fithe, . And ev'ry shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilf the landscape round it meafures ; Rafiet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains, on whose barren breaft The lab'ring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide : Tow'rs and battlements it fees, Bofom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps fume beauty lies, The Cynofure of neighb’ring eyes. Hard by a cottage chimney smokes; From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whisp’ring winds foon lull'd afleep. Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, With ftore of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In faffron robe with taper clear, And Pomp, and Feast, and Revelry, With mask and antique pageantry; Such fights as youthful puets dream On faminer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Johnson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verle, Such as the meeting foul may pierce, In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetnefs long drawn out, With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running; Untwifting all the chains that tie The bidden foul of harmony; That Orpheus' self may heave his head From golden Nuinber on a bed