HENCE vain deluding¹ Joys

    The brood of Folly² without father bred！

    How little you bestead

    Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys！

    Dwell in some idle brain

    And fancies fond with gaudy³ shapes possess

    As thick and numberless

    As the gay motes⁴ that people the sunbeams

    Or likest hovering⁵ dreams

    The fickle⁶ pensioners⁷ of Morpheus' train.

    But hail thou goddess sage⁸ and holy

    Hail divinest Melancholy⁹！

    Whose saintly visage is too bright

    To hit the sense of human sight

    And therefore to our weaker view

    O'erlaid with #CCCCFF staid Wisdom's hue¹⁰；

    #CCCCFF but such as in esteem¹¹

    Prince Memnon's sister might beseem

    Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove

    To set her beauty's praise above

    The sea-nymphs and their powers offended：

    Yet thou art higher far descended¹²：

    Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore

    To solitary¹³ Saturn¹⁴ bore；

    His daughter she； in Saturn's reign¹⁵

    Such mixture was not held a stain：

    Oft in glimmering¹⁶ bowers¹⁸ and glades¹⁹

    He met her and in secret shades

    Of woody Ida's inmost grove²⁰

    While yet there was no fear of Jove.

    Come pensive²¹ Nun²² devout²³ and pure

    Sober steadfast²⁴ and demure²⁵

    All in a robe of darkest grain

    Flowing with majestic²⁶ train

    And sable²⁷ stole of cypres lawn

    Over thy decent shoulders drawn²⁸：

    Come but keep thy wonted state

    With even step and musing³⁰ gait

    And looks commércing with the skies

    Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes：

    There held in holy passion still

    Forget thyself to marble till

    With a sad leaden downward cast

    Thou fix them on the earth as fast：

    And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet

    Spare Fast that oft with gods doth diet

    And hears the Muses³¹ in a ring

    Aye round about Jove's altar sing：

    And add to these retirèd Leisure

    That in trim gardens takes his pleasure：—

    But first and chiefest with thee bring

    Him that yon soars on golden wing

    Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne

    The cherub³² Contemplatiòn；

    And the mute Silence hist along

    'Less Philomel will deign³³ a song

    In her sweetest saddest plight³⁴

    Smoothing the rugged³⁵ brow of Night

    While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke³⁶

    Gently o'er the accustom'd oak.

    —Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly

    Most musical most melancholy！

    Thee chauntress oft the woods among

    I woo to hear thy even-song；

    And missing thee I walk unseen

    On the dry smooth-shaven green

    To behold³⁷ the wandering Moon

    Riding near her highest noon

    Like one that had been led astray

    Through the heaven's wide pathless way

    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 some wide-water'd shore

    Swinging slow with sullen³⁸ roar：

    Or if the air will not permit

    Some still removèd place will fit

    Where glowing embers through the room

    Teach light to counterfeit³⁹ a gloom；

    Far from all resort of mirth

    Save the cricket on the hearth⁴⁰

    Or the bellman's drowsy⁴¹ charm

    To bless the doors from nightly harm.

    Or let my lamp at midnight hour

    Be seen in some high lonely tower

    Where I may oft out-watch the Bear

    With thrice-great Hermes or unsphere

    The spirit of Plato to unfold

    What worlds or what vast regions hold

    The immortal⁴² mind that hath forsook⁴³

    Her mansion⁴⁴ in this fleshly nook：

    And of those demons⁴⁵ that are found

    In fire air flood or underground

    Whose power hath a true consent

    With planet or with element.

    Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy

    In sceptr'd pall⁴⁶ come sweeping⁴⁷ by

    Presenting Thebes or Pelops' line

    Or the tale of Troy divine；

    Or what （though rare） of later age

    Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.

    But O sad Virgin⁴⁸ that thy power

    Might raise Mus？us from his bower¹⁷

    Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing

    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

    Of Camball and of Algarsife

    And who had Canacé to wife

    That own'd the virtuous⁴⁹ ring and glass；

    And of the wondrous⁵⁰ horse of brass⁵¹

    On which the Tartar king did ride：

    And if aught else great bards⁵² beside

    In sage and solemn tunes⁵³ have sung

    Of turneys and of trophies⁵⁴ hung

    Of forests and enchantments⁵⁵ drear

    Where more is meant than meets the ear.

    Thus Night oft see me in thy pale career

    Till civil-suited Morn appear

    Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont²⁹

    With the Attic⁵⁶ Boy to hunt

    But kercheft in a comely⁵⁷ cloud

    While rocking winds are piping loud.

    Or usher'd with a shower still

    When the gust⁵⁸ hath blown his fill

    Ending on the rustling⁵⁹ leaves

    With minute drops from off the eaves.

    And when the sun begins to fling

    His flaring⁶⁰ beams me goddess bring

    To archèd walks of twilight⁶¹ groves⁶²

    And shadows brown that Sylvan⁶³ loves

    Of pine or monumental oak

    Where the rude axe⁶⁴ with heavèd stroke

    Was never heard the nymphs to daunt⁶⁵

    Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.

    There in close covert⁶⁶ by some brook⁶⁷

    Where no profaner⁶⁸ eye may look

    Hide me from day's garish⁶⁹ eye

    While the bee with honey'd thigh⁷⁰

    That at her flowery work doth sing

    And the waters murmuring

    With such consort⁷¹ as they keep

    Entice⁷² the dewy-feather'd Sleep；

    And let some strange mysterious dream

    Wave at his wings in airy stream

    Of lively portraiture⁷³ display'd

    Softly on my eyelids⁷⁴ laid：

    And as I wake sweet music breathe

    Above about or underneath⁷⁵

    Sent by some Spirit to mortals good

    Or the unseen Genius of the wood.

    But let my due feet never fail

    To walk the studious cloister's pale

    And love the high-embowèd roof

    With antique pillars massy proof

    And storied windows richly dight

    Casting a dim religious light.

    There let the pealing⁷⁶ organ blow

    To the full-voiced quire below

    In service high and anthems⁷⁷ clear

    As may with sweetness through mine ear

    Dissolve me into ecstasies⁷⁸

    And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.

    And may at last my weary age

    Find out the peaceful hermitage

    The hairy gown and mossy cell

    Where I may sit and rightly spell

    Of every star that heaven doth shew

    And every herb that sips⁷⁹ the dew；

    Till old experience do attain⁸⁰

    To something like prophetic strain.

    These pleasures Melancholy give

    And I with thee will choose to live.

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