Helper of mortals; hear! As thy fires give The fair and present boldnesses that strive In youth for honour, being the sweetbeam'd light That darts into their lives, from all thy height, The fortitudes and fortunes found in fight. So would I likewise wish to have the power To keep off from my head thy bitter hour, And that false fire, cast from my soul's low kind, Stoop to the fit rule of my highest mind. Controlling that so eager sting of wrath That stirs me on still to that horrid scathe Of war; that God still sends to wreak his spleen (Even by whole tribes) of proud injurious Inform my song with that celestial fire That in thy beauties kindles all desire. So shall my Muse for ever honour thee, And any other thou commend'st to me. TO PALLAS. PALLAS Minerva only I begin To give my song; that makes war's terrible din: Is patroness of cities, and with Mars Marshall'd in all the care and cure of wars, And in everted cities, fights, and cries. to me; And, with thy wisdom's force, felicity. With flocks abounding: and the Mes- His goats he runs upon, and never rests. Then turns he head, and flies on savage beasts, senger Of all th' Immortals, that doth still infer Profits of infinite value to their store: Whom to Saturnius bashful Maia bore; Daughter of Atlas; and did therefore fly Of all th' Immortals the society, To that dark cave; where, in the dead of night, Jove join'd with her in love's divine delight; When golden sleep shut Juno's jealous Mad of their slaughters; so most sharp an eye Setting upon them, as his beams let fly Through all their thickest tapestries. And then (When Hesperus calls to fold the flocks of men) From the green closets of his loftiest reeds He rushes forth; and joy, with song, he feeds. When, under shadow of their motions set, He plays a verse forth so profoundly sweet, As not the bird that in the flowery spring, Amidst the leaves set, makes the thickes ring Of her sour sorrows, sweeten'd with her song, Runs her divisions varied so and strong. And then the sweet-voiced Nymphs that crown his mountains (Flock'd round about the deep-blackwater'd fountains) Fall in with their contention of song. (Placed in the midst) the God the guide doth bear Of all their dances, winding in and out. With well-made songs, maintains th alacrity Of his free mind, in silken meadow crown'd With hyacinths and saffrons; that abound In sweet-breathed odours, that th' unnumber'd grass pleasures, ever (Besides their scents) give as through all they pass. And these, in all their raise The blessed Gods' and long Olympus' praise : Like zealous Hermes, who, of all, I said Most profits up to all the Gods convey'd. Who, likewise, came into th' Arcadian state, (That's rich in fountains, and all celebrate For nurse of flocks), where he had vow'd PRAISE Vulcan, now Muse; whom Fame gives the prize For depth and facture of all forge-devise; Who, with the sky-eyed Pallas, first did give Men rules of buildings, that before did live In caves and dens, and hills, like savage beasts; Of all these Powers that are with Deity blest. That far-off doth his dreadful voice diffuse, And, being King of all, doth all conduce To all their ends. Who (shut from all Gods else But now, by art-famed Vulcan's interests ends (the year), tells) |