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.
From the stony Mænalus
Bring your flocks, and live with us,
Here ye shall have greater grace,
To serve the Lady of this place.
Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

ANNO ÆTATIS 17.

ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT, DYING OF A COUGH.

I.

O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,

Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; For he being amorous on that lovely dye

5

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal bliss.

II.

For since grim Aquilo his charioteer
By boisterous rape th' Athenian damsel got,

He thought it touch'd his deity full near,

10] Shakespeare's Passionate Pilgrim.

'Swet Rose, fair flower, untimely pluckt, soon vaded, Pluckt in the bud, and vaded in the spring!

Bright orient pearle, alack, too timely shaded,

Fair Creature, kild too soone by Death's sharpe sting.'

10

If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach

was held.

III.

15

So mounting up in icy-pearled car,
Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wander'd long, till thee he spy'd from far;
There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care.
Down he descended from his snow-soft chair,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 Unhous'd thy virgin soul from her fair biding place.

IV.

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For so Apollo, with unweeting hand,
Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate,
Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand,
Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land;

25

But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power!

V.

Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead,
Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb,

12 infámous] The common accentuation of our elder poetry Drummond's Urania, 1616,

On this infamous stage of woe to die.' Todd.

Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,
Hid from the world in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee so strictly doom?

Oh no! for something in thy face did shine Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine. 35

VI.

Resolve me then, oh Soul most surely blest,
(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear,)
Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest,
Whether above that high first-moving sphere,
Or in th' Elysian fields, (if such there were,)
Oh say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, [flight.
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy

VII.

Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof
Of shak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall;
Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
Or did of late earth's sons besiege the wall

40

45

Of sheeny Heav'n, and thou some Goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?

VIII.

Or wert thou that just Maid, who once before
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,

31 wormy] Shakesp. Mid. N. Dr. act iii. sc. ult.

50

'Already to their wormy beds are gone.' Warion. 40 were] He should have said 'are,' if the rhyme had permitted. Hurd.

And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet-smiling youth?
Or that crown'd matron sage white-robed Truth?

Or any other of that heavenly brood [good? Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some

IX.

Or wert thou of the golden-winged host,
Who having clad thyself in human weed,
To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post,
And after short abode fly back with speed,
As if to show what creatures heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
To scorn the sordid world and unto heav'n aspire?

x.

60

But oh, why didst thou not stay here below
To bless us with thy heav'n-lov'd innocence,
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe,
To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence,
Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence,

65

To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart? But thou canst best perform that office where thou

art.

70

XI.

Then thou, the Mother of so sweet a Child,
Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament,

53 Or wert] In this line a dissyllable word is wanting. Mr. J. Heskin conjectured Or wert thou Mercy,' &c.