 | Philomela |  |
149
ANOTHER.
Within the close Recesses of a Shade,
A Shade for Holy Contemplation made,
No beauteous Branch, no Plant, or fragrant Flow'r,
But flourish'd near this fair delicious Bow'r:
With charming State its lofty Arches rise,
Adorn'd with Blossoms, as with Stars the Skies:
All pure and fragrant was the Air I drew,
Which Winds thro' Myrtle-Groves and Orange blew;
Clear Waves along with pleasing Murmur rush,
And down the artful Falls, in Cat'racts gush.
A Shade for Holy Contemplation made,
No beauteous Branch, no Plant, or fragrant Flow'r,
But flourish'd near this fair delicious Bow'r:
With charming State its lofty Arches rise,
Adorn'd with Blossoms, as with Stars the Skies:
All pure and fragrant was the Air I drew,
Which Winds thro' Myrtle-Groves and Orange blew;
Clear Waves along with pleasing Murmur rush,
And down the artful Falls, in Cat'racts gush.
'Twas here, within this happy Place retir'd,
Harmonious Pleasures all my Soul inspir'd;
I take my Lyre and try each tuneful String,
Now War, now Love, and Beauty's Force would sing;
To Heav'nly Subjects now, in serious Lays,
I strive my faint, unskilful Voice to raise,
But as I unresolv'd and doubtful lay,
My Cares in easy Slumbers glide away;
Nor with such pleasing Sleep, such soothing Rest,
And Dreams like This I e'er before was blest;
No wild uncouth Chimeras intervene,
To break this perfect Intellectual Scene.
Harmonious Pleasures all my Soul inspir'd;
I take my Lyre and try each tuneful String,
Now War, now Love, and Beauty's Force would sing;
To Heav'nly Subjects now, in serious Lays,
I strive my faint, unskilful Voice to raise,
150
My Cares in easy Slumbers glide away;
Nor with such pleasing Sleep, such soothing Rest,
And Dreams like This I e'er before was blest;
No wild uncouth Chimeras intervene,
To break this perfect Intellectual Scene.
The Place was all with Heav'nly Light o'erflown,
And Glorious with Immortal Splendor shone;
When lo! a bright Ætherial Youth drew near,
Ineffable his Motions and his Air,
A soft, beneficent expressless Grace,
With Life's most florid Bloom adorn'd his Face;
His Brows a Laurel, ever green, did bind,
And long his radiant Hair fell down behind,
His Azure-Robes hung free and waving with the Wind.
Angelic his Address, his tuneful Voice
Inspir'd a Thousand elevating Joys:
When thus the wond'rous Youth his Silence broke,
And with an Accent all Seraphic spoke.
And Glorious with Immortal Splendor shone;
When lo! a bright Ætherial Youth drew near,
Ineffable his Motions and his Air,
A soft, beneficent expressless Grace,
With Life's most florid Bloom adorn'd his Face;
His Brows a Laurel, ever green, did bind,
And long his radiant Hair fell down behind,
His Azure-Robes hung free and waving with the Wind.
Angelic his Address, his tuneful Voice
Inspir'd a Thousand elevating Joys:
When thus the wond'rous Youth his Silence broke,
And with an Accent all Seraphic spoke.
151
To Heav'n, nor longer pause, devote thy Songs,
To Heav'n the Muse's Sacred Art belongs;
Let God's unbounded Glory be thy Theme,
Who fills th' Eternal Regions with his Fame;
And when Death's fatal Sleep shall close thine Eyes,
In Triumph We'll attend Thee to the Skies;
We'll Crown Thee there, with everlasting Bays;
And teach Thee all our most Celestial Lays,
Thus spoke, the shining Vision upwards flies,
And darts like Light'ning thro' the op'ning Skies.
To Heav'n the Muse's Sacred Art belongs;
Let God's unbounded Glory be thy Theme,
Who fills th' Eternal Regions with his Fame;
And when Death's fatal Sleep shall close thine Eyes,
In Triumph We'll attend Thee to the Skies;
We'll Crown Thee there, with everlasting Bays;
And teach Thee all our most Celestial Lays,
Thus spoke, the shining Vision upwards flies,
And darts like Light'ning thro' the op'ning Skies.
| Philomela | |