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Who had thought this clime had held

A Deity fo unparallel'd ?

As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and turning toward them, peaks.

Gen. Stay gentle Swains; for tho' in this disguise,
I fee bright honour fparkle through your eyes,
Of famous Arcady ye are, and fprung
Of that renowned flood, fo often fung,
Divine Alpheus, who by fecret fluce,
Stole under Seas to meet his Arethuse;
And ye the breathing Rofes of the Wood,
Fair filver-bufkin'd Nymphs as great and good,
I know, this queft of yours, and free intent
Was all in honour and devotion meant
To the great Mistress of yon princely shrine,
Whom with low reverence I adore as mine,.
And with all helpful fervice will comply
To further this night's glad folemnity;
And lead ye, where ye may more near bet old
What fhallow-fearching Fame hath left untold:
Which I full oft amidst these shades alone
Have fat to wonder at, and gaze upon :
For know, by lot from Jove, I am the pow'r
Of this fair Wood, and live in Oak'n bow'r,
To nurse the faplings tall, and curl the grove
With Ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
And all my Plants I fave from nightly ill
Of noifom winds, and blafting Vapours chill;
And from the Boughs brush off the evil dew
And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue,
Or what the crofs dire-looking Planet fmites,
Or hurtful Worm with canker'd venom bites.
When Ev'ning gray doth rife, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground,
And early, ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the slumbring leaves, or taffel'd horn

Shakes

Shakes the high thicket, hafte I all about,
Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
With puiffant words, and murmurs made to blefs:
But elfe in deep of night, when drowsiness
Hath lockt up mortal sense, then liften I
To the celeftial Syrens harmony,
That fit upon the nine enfolded Spheres,
And fing to thofe that hold the vital shears,
And turn the Adamantine spindle round,
On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such fweet compulfion doth in musick lie,
Tolull the daughters of Neceffity,

And keep unfteady Nature to her law,
And the low world in measur'd motion draw
After the heavenly tune, which none can hear
Of humane mould with grofs unpurged ear,
And yet fuch mufick worthieft were to blaze
The peerless height of her immortal praise,
Whofe luftre leads us, and for her moft fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable founds: yet as we go,
What-e'er the skill of leffer gods can show,
I will affay, her worth to celebrate;
And fo attend ye tow'rd her glittering ftate:
Where ye may all that are of noble stem
Approach, and kifs her facred vefturės hem.

2. SONG.

O'er the fmooth enamel'd green, Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I fing,

And touch the warbled ftring.

Under the fhady roof

Of branching Elm ftar-proof,
Follow me.

I will bring you where fhe fits,
Clad in fplendor, as befits

Her Deity.

Such

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not feen.

3. SONG.

Nymphs and Shepherds, dance no more By fandy Ladon's lillied banks;

On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar

Trip no more in twilight ranks : Through Erymanth your lofs deplore,

A better foil fhall give ye thanks.
From the ftony Manalus

Bring your Flocks, and live with us;
Here ye shall have greater grace,

To ferve the Lady of this place :

Through Syrinx your Pan's Mistress were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.
Such a rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not feen.

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