 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
In bowers of roses wild, of cinnamon smell;
Whose long arms, ment with gentle eglantine;
Wounden with many a withwinds flowering trail;
Their hands have taught, to lend a sprinkled shade:
The Muses, wíth the glad-eyed Graces met;
Dight garlands and plight chaplets for their heads:
When those forwearied, wíth fond worldly wights'
Discourse; resort to this delicious place:
Where spring-tide ever smiles, and glad consent
Them greets of warbling birds, from áll green boughs:
And naught their sense offends, twixt sand and stars.
Whose long arms, ment with gentle eglantine;
Wounden with many a withwinds flowering trail;
Their hands have taught, to lend a sprinkled shade:
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Dight garlands and plight chaplets for their heads:
When those forwearied, wíth fond worldly wights'
Discourse; resort to this delicious place:
Where spring-tide ever smiles, and glad consent
Them greets of warbling birds, from áll green boughs:
And naught their sense offends, twixt sand and stars.
A little apart, whereas those streams run slow;
Are cabans green, shrouded in thicket place:
Of willow wands, wedded with drooping boughs
Of neighbour trees; and wattled of the wind.
And there a margent is, of whitest sand:
Whereas sequestered, ánd all veiled from view;
They bathe, whenso them lists, their gracious limbs.
Are cabans green, shrouded in thicket place:
Of willow wands, wedded with drooping boughs
Of neighbour trees; and wattled of the wind.
And there a margent is, of whitest sand:
Whereas sequestered, ánd all veiled from view;
They bathe, whenso them lists, their gracious limbs.
Over the wandering streams, lie open lawns
And laurel grove; and trees grow there beyond,
All other than today in World be found,
Whose plenteous boughs bear, blesséd of the Gods,
Immortal fruits and blossoms at one tide:
Whence fragrant flowry breath is wafted wide
Abroad, with sweetness óf the honey-comb.
And laurel grove; and trees grow there beyond,
All other than today in World be found,
Whose plenteous boughs bear, blesséd of the Gods,
Immortal fruits and blossoms at one tide:
Whence fragrant flowry breath is wafted wide
Abroad, with sweetness óf the honey-comb.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |