Listen, and appear to us In name of great Oceanus, By th' earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wisard's hook, By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet, By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, Sleeking her soft alluring locks, By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answer'd have. Listen and save.
SABRINA rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings.
By the rushy-fringed bank,
Where grows the willow, and the asier dank, My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agat, and the azurn sheen Of turkis blue, and emrald green, That in the channel strays; Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread; Gentle Swain, at thy request I am here.
SPI. Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band
Of true Virgin here distrest,
Through the force, and through the wile. Of unblest inchanter vile.
SAB. Shepherd, 'tis my office best To help insnared chastity: Brightest Lady look on me; Thus I sprinkle on thy breast Drops that from my fountain pure I have kept of precious cure, Thrice upon thy fingers' tip, Thrice upon thy rubied lip; Next this marble venom'd seat,
Smear'd with gums of glutenous heat,
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold: Now the spell hath lost his hold; And I must haste ere morning hour To wait on Amphitrite's bower
SABRINA desends, and the LADY rises out of her seat.
SPI. Virgin, daughter of Locrine Sprung from old Anchise's line,
May thy brimmed waves for this Their full tribute never miss From a thousand petty rills, That tumble down the snowy hills:
Summer drouth, or singed air Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October's torrent flood Thy molten chrystal fill with mud: May thy billows roll ashore The beryl, and the golden ore; May thy lofty head be crown'd With many a tower and terras round, And here and there thy banks upon With groves of myrrh, and cinnamon. Come, Lady, while Heav'n lends us grace, Let us fly this cursed place,
Lest the Sorcerer us entice With some other new device. Not a waste, or needless sound, Till we come to holier ground; I shall be your faithful guide Through this gloomy covert wide And not many furlongs thence Is your father's residence, Where this night are met in state Many a friend to gratulate
His wish'd presence, and beside All the swains that near abide With jigs and rural dance resort;
We shall catch them at their sport, And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and cheer; Come let us haste, the stars grow high, But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
The scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the presi dent's castle; then come in country dancers, after them the attendant SPIRIT, with the two BROTHERS and the LADY :
SPI. BACK, Shepherds, back, enough your play
Till next sunshine holiday,
Here be without duck or nod
Other trippings to be trod
Of lighter toes, and such court guise
As Mercury did first devise
On the lawns, and on the leas.
The second song presents them to their father and mother.
NOBLE Lord, and Lady bright,
I have brought you new delight, Here behold so goodly grown Three fair branches of your own;
Heav'n hath timely try'd their youth,
Their faith; their patience, and their truth, And sent them here through hard assays With a crown of deathless praise,
To triumph in victorious dance, O'er sensual folly, and intemperance.
The dance ended, the Spirit epiloguizes:
SPI. To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie Where Day never shuts his eye, Up in the broad fields of the sky : There I suck the liquid air
All amidst the gardens fair
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree: Along the crisped shade and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, The Grace, and the rosy-bosom'd Hours, Thither all their bounties bring: That there eternal Summer dwells, And west-winds with musky wing About the cedarn alleys fling Nard, and Cassia's balmy smells. Iris there with humid bow
Waters the odorous banks, that blow
Flowers of more mingled hue Than her purfled scarf can shew, And drenches with Elysian dew (List mortals, if your ears be true,
« ZurückWeiter » |