OW turning from the wintry signs, the sun
His course exalted thro' the Ram had run,
And whirling up the skies, his chariot drove
Thro' Taurus, and the lightsome realms of love;
Where Venus from her orb descends in show'rs,
To glad the ground, and paint the fields with flow'rs:
When first the tender blades of grass appear,
And buds, that yet the blast of Eurus fear,
Stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year:
Till gentle heat, and soft repeated rains,
Make the green blood to dance within their veins:
Then, at their call, embolden'd out they come,
And swell the gems, and burst the narrow room;
Broader and broader yet, their blooms display,
Salute the welcome sun, and entertain the day.
Then from their breathing fouls the sweets repair
To scent the skies, and purge th' unwholesom air:
Joy spreads the heart, and, with a general fong,
Spring issues out, and leads the jolly months along.
In that sweet season, as in bed I lay,
And fought in fleep to pass the night away,
I turn'd my weary'd fide, but still in vain,
Tho' full of youthful health, and void of pain:
Cares I had none, to keep me from my rest,
For love had never enter'd in my breast;
I wanted nothing fortune could supply,
Nor did she slumber till that hour deny.
I wonder'd then, but after found it true,
Much joy had dry'd away the balmy dew:
Seas wou'd be pools, without the brushing air,
To curl the waves; and fure some little care
Shou'd weary nature so, to make her want repair.
When Chanticleer the second watch had fung,
Scorning the scorner fleep, from bed I sprung;
And dressing, by the moon, in loose array,
Pass'd out in open air, preventing day,
And fought a goodly grove, as fancy led my way.
Straight as a line in beauteous order stood
Of oaks unfhorn a venerable wood;
Fresh was the grafs beneath, and ev'ry tree,
At distance planted in a due degree,
Their branching arms in air with equal space
Stretch'd to their neighbours with a long embrace:
And the new leaves on ev'ry bough were feen,
Some ruddy colour'd, some of lighter green.
The painted birds, companions of the spring,
Hopping from spray to spray, were heard to fing.
Both eyes and ears receiv'd a like delight,
Enchanting music, and a charming fight.
On Philomel I fix'd my whole defire;
And listen'd for the queen of all the quire;
Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to fing;
And wanted yet an omen to the spring.
Attending long in vain, I took the way,
Which through a path, but scarcely printed, lay;
In narrow mazes oft it feem'd to meet,
And look'd, as lightly press'd by fairy feet.
Wandring I walk'd alone, for still methought
To fome ftrange end so strange a path was wrought:
At last it led me where an arbour stood,
The facred receptacle of the wood:
This place unmark'd, tho' oft I walk'd the green,
In all my progress I had never seen :
And seiz'd at once with wonder and delight,
Gaz'd all around me, new to the transporting fight.
'Twas bench'd with turf, and goodly to be seen,
The thick young grafs arose in fresher green:
The mound was newly made, no fight could pass
Betwixt the nice partitions of the grass;
The well-united sods so closely lay;
And all around the shades defended it from day,
For sycamores with eglantine were spread,
A hedge about the fides, a covering over head.
And so the fragrant brier was wove between,
The sycamore and flow'rs were mix'd with green,
That nature seem'd to vary the delight;
And fatisfy'd at once the smell and fight.
The master workman of the bow'r was known
Through fairy-lands, and built for Oberon;
Who twining leaves with such proportion drew,
They rose by measure, and by rule they grew;
No mortal tongue can half the beauty tell:
For none but hands divine could work so well.
Both roof and fides were like a parlour made,
A foft recess, and a cool fummer shade;
The hedge was set so thick, no foreign eye
The persons plac'd within it could espy:
But all that pass'd without with ease was seen,
As if nor fence nor tree was plac'd between.
'Twas border'd with a field; and some was plain
With grafs, and some was fow'd with rising grain.
That (now the dew with spangles deck'd the ground)
A sweeter spot of earth was never found.
I look'd and look'd, and still with new delight;
Such joy my foul, fuch pleasures fill'd my fight:
And the fresh eglantine exhal'd a breath,
Whose odours were of pow'r to raise from death.
Nor fullen discontent, nor anxious care,
Ev'n tho' brought thither, could inhabit there:
But thence they fled as from their mortal foe;
For this sweet place could only pleasure know.
Thus as I mus'd, I caft afide my eye,
And faw a medlar-tree was planted nigh.
The spreading branches made a goodly show,
And full of opening blooms was ev'ry bough:
A goldfinch there I faw with gawdy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from side to fide,
Still pecking as she pass'd; and still she drew
The sweets from ev'ry flow'r, and fuck'd the dew:
Suffic'd at length, she warbl'd in her throat,
And tun'd her voice to many a merry note,
But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear,
Yet fuch as footh'd my foul, and pleas'd my ear.
Her short performance was no fooner try'd,
When she I fought, the nightingale, reply'd:
So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung,
That the grove echo'd, and the valleys rung:
And I so ravish'd with her heavenly note
I stood intranc'd, and had no room for thought,
But all o'er-power'd with ecstasy of bliss,
Was in a pleasing dream of paradise;
At length I wak'd, and looking round the bow'r
Search'd ev'ry tree, and pry'd on ev'ry flow'r,
If any where by chance I might espy,
The rural poet of the melody:
For ftill methought she sung not far away:
At last I found her on a laurel spray.
Close by my fide she sat, and fair in fight,
Full in a line, against her oppofite;
Where stood with eglantine the laurel twin'd;
And both their native sweets were well conjoin'd.
On the green bank I sat, and listen'd long;
(Sitting was more convenient for the fong :)
Nor till her lay was ended could I move,
But wish'd to dwell for ever in the grove.
Only methought the time too fwiftly pafs'd,
And ev'ry note I fear'd would be the last.
My fight and smell, and hearing were employ'd,
And all three senses in full gust enjoy'd.
And what alone did all the rest surpass,
The sweet poffeffion of the fairy place;
Single, and conscious to myself alone
Of pleasures to th' excluded world unknown:
Pleasures which no where else were to be found,
And all Elysium in a spot of ground.
Thus while I sat intent to fee and hear,
And drew perfumes of more than vital air,
All fuddenly I heard th' approaching found
Of vocal music, on th' inchanted ground:
An host of faints it seem'd, so full the quire;
As if the bless'd above did all conspire
To join their voices, and neglect the lyre.
At length there issued from the grove behind
A fair assembly of the female kind:
'A train less fair, as ancient fathers tell,
Seduc'd the fons of heaven to rebel.
I pass their form, and ev'ry charming grace,
Less than an angel wou'd their worth debase:
But their attire, like liveries of a kind,
All rich and rare, is fresh within my mind.
In velvet white as snow the troop was gown'd,
The feams with sparkling emeralds fet around;
Their hoods and fleeves the same; and purfled o'er
With diamonds, pearls, and all the shining store
Of eastern pomp: their long descending train,
With rubies edg'd, and saphires, swept the plain:
High on their heads, with jewels richly set,
Each lady wore a radiant coronet.
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