Lapas attēli

Love. 'Tis done! 'tis done! I've found it out

Britain's the world the world without.
The king's the eye, as we do call
The sun

the eye of this great all.
And is the light and treasure too;
For 'tis his wisdom all doth do.
Which still is fixed in his breast,
Yet still doth move to guide the rest.
The contraries which time till now
Nor fate knew where to join, or how,
Are Majesty and Love;' which there,
And no where else, have their true sphere.
Now, Sphynx, I've hit the right upon,
And do resolve these all by one:

That is, that you meant ALBION.
Priests. 'Tis true in him, and in no other,

Love, thou art clear absolved.
Vanish, Follies, with your mother,

The riddle is resolved.
Sphynx must fly, when Phæbus shines,
And to aid of Love inclines.

[Sphynx retires with the Follies Love. Appear then, you my brighter charge,

And to light yourselves enlarge,
To behold that glorious star,
Fór whose love you came so far,
While the monster with her elves,

Do precipitate themselves.
Here the Graces enter, and sing this Song, crowning


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3 Nor fate knew where to join, or how,
Are Majesty and Love.] The thought taken from Ovid :

Non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur
Majestas, et Amor.


A Crown, a crown for Love's bright head,

Without whose happy wit
All form and beauty had been dead,

And we had died with it.
For what are all the graces
Without good forms, and faces ?

Then, Love, receive the due reward

Those Graces have prepar'd.
Cho. And may no hand, no tongue, no eye

Thy merit, or their thanks envy.

Cho. What gentle forms are these that move,

To honour Love ?
Gra. They are the bright and golden lights

That grace his nights.
Cho. And shot from beauty's eyes,

They look like fair AURORA's streams.
Gra. They are her fairer daughters' beams,

Who now doth rise,
Cho. Then night is lost, or fled away ;

For where such beauty shines, is ever day.

The Masque Dance followed.

Which done, one of the Priests alone sung. i Priest. O what a fault, nay, what a sin

In fate, or fortune had it been,
So much beauty to have lost !
Could the world with all her cost

Have redeem'd it?

No, no, no.
Priest. How so?
Cho. It would nature quite undo,

For losing these, you lost her too.

The Measures and Revels follow.

2 Priest. How near to good is what is fair!

Which we no sooner see,
But with the lines, and outward air

Our senses taken be.
We wish to see it still, and prove,

What ways we may deserve ;
We court, we praise, we more than love :

We are not griev'd to serve.

The last Masque-Dance.

And after it, this full


What just excuse had aged Time,

His weary limbs now to have eased, And sate him down without his crime,

While every thought was so much pleased ! But he so greedy to devour

His own, and all that he brings forth,
Is eating every piece of hour

Some object of the rarest worth.
Yet this is rescued from his rage,
As not to die by time, or age :
For beauty hath a living name,
And will to heaven, from whence it came.


Grand Chorus at going out. Now, now, gentle Love is free, and Beauty blest With the sight it so much long'd to see. Let us the Muses' priests, and Graces go to rest,

For in them our labours happy be.

Then, then, * * * music sound, and teach our feet,

How to move in time, and measure meet : Thus should the Muses' priests, and Graces go to rest

Bowing to the sun, throned in the west.

Then, then, angry music sound.] This epithet is not very commonly applied to music: the poet seems to have used it instead of loud. WHAL.

It is unquestionably a misprint, (which I am unable to set right) and is one of the very few errors in this excellent old copy.

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