Of Phoebus' sons, whose notes the air aspire To wait upon the Age that shall your names new nourish, Since Virtue press'd shall grow, and buried Arts shall flourish. Chau. Gow. Lid. Spen. We come. We come. Our best of fire, Is that which Pallas doth inspire. [They descend. Pal. Then see you yonder souls, set far within the shade, That in Elysian bowers the blessed seats do keep, That justice dare defend, and will the age sustain. Pal. Thus Pallas throws a lightning from her 1 And went away from earth, as if but tam'd with sleep.] This is from Hesiod: Θνησκον δ' ως υπνῳ δεδμημενοι. It is remarkable that Ovid, who, in his description of the Golden Age, copied Hesiod, has neglected to take notice of so beautiful a circumstance. WHAL. Put on air, is also from Hesiod: nepa eσoaμevoi. Ast. Now Peace. G. Age. And Love. G. Age. Joys. Ast. G. Age. All, all increase. Gow. And Hate, Lid. And Fear, Omnes. All cease. Pal. No tumour of an iron vein. The causes shall not come again. Cho. But, as of old, all now be gold. And do not only walk your solemn rounds, The first DANCE. Pal. Already do not all things smile? [A pause. Age. That every thought a seed doth bring, Pal. The earth unplough'd shall yield her crop, The fountain shall run milk: The thistle shall the lily bear, Cho. The very shrub shall balsam sweat, That she no harmful weed may know, Here the main DANCE. After which, Pal. But here's not all: you must do more, Poe. The male and female us'd to join, That pure simplicity. Then Feature did to Form advance, It was a time of no distrust, So much of love had nought of lust, The language melted in the ear, Cho. Each touch and kiss was so well placed, Here they dance with the Ladies. Ast. What change is here? I had not more Desire to leave the earth before, Than I have now to stay ; My silver feet, like roots, are wreath'd 2 They lived with open vow.] Aperto vivere voto. PERS. Of all there seems a second birth, I feel the god-head; nor will doubt Here they dance the Galliards and Corantos. Pallas [ascending, and calling the Poets]. And as his bounty gives you cause Like lights about Astræa's throne, That by your union she may grow, Who vows, against or heat or cold, To write your names in some new flower, Cho. To Jove, to Jove, be all the honour given, That thankful hearts can raise from earth to heaven. It is with regret I inform the reader that the excellent old folio here deserts us. I am not quite sure that the concluding pages enjoyed the benefit of Jonson's superintendence; but as by far the greatest portion of the volume undoubtedly did, it is come down to us one of the correctest works that ever issued from the English press. The second folio, which has a medley of dates from 1630 to 1641, has no such advantages. No part of it, I am well persuaded, was seen by Jonson; as, exclusive of the press-errors, which are very numerous, there is a confusion in the names of the speakers, which he could not have overlooked. I have revised it with all imaginable care, and endeavoured to preserve that uniformity of arrangement of which he was apparently so solicitous. |