 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
In whát days, ít may please the gentle Muse;
To walk unwíst, on Albans breathing hills;
Her wont is, tó affect the herding trade:
As more than most, devoid of human fraud;
Her soul abhors.
To walk unwíst, on Albans breathing hills;
Her wont is, tó affect the herding trade:
As more than most, devoid of human fraud;
Her soul abhors.
And was, for Colins sake;
Erewhile most tuneful shepherd on these wolds;
(Whose heaven-breathed chants, whose lays empassionate,
Aspiring raptures, líke pure lovers' flames;
First the rude ore refined of Britains verse:)
To me, least mongst his heirs, She favour showed.
Erewhile most tuneful shepherd on these wolds;
(Whose heaven-breathed chants, whose lays empassionate,
Aspiring raptures, líke pure lovers' flames;
First the rude ore refined of Britains verse:)
To me, least mongst his heirs, She favour showed.
Colin is dead, lies Hobbinol lapt in lead,
And Cuddy ís no more; and long ago
Was Rosalind laid in grave. So shall be we,
(And who in Time to come shall emule us;)
Which yet live, láte survivors of his crew.
But shall his, heaven-deríved, sweet chívalrous measures:
Still breathing grace and happy influence;
Continue through Worlds ages, únforgot.
And Cuddy ís no more; and long ago
Was Rosalind laid in grave. So shall be we,
(And who in Time to come shall emule us;)
Which yet live, láte survivors of his crew.
But shall his, heaven-deríved, sweet chívalrous measures:
143
Continue through Worlds ages, únforgot.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |