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In narrow Mazes oft it seem'd to meet, And look’d, as lightly press’d by Fairy Feet. Wandring I walk'd alone, for still methought Tosome strangeEnd so strange aPath was wrought: At last it led me where an Arbour stood, The sacred 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 Sight. 'Twas bench'd with Turf, and goodly to be seen, The thick young Grass arose in fresher Green: The Mound was newly made, no Sight 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 Sycamours with Eglantine were spread, A Hedge about the Sides, a Covering over Head. And so the fragrant Brier was wove between, TheSycamour and Flow'rs were mix'd withGreen, (That Nature seem'd to vary the Delight; And satisfy'd at once the Smell and Sight,
The Master Workman of the Bow'r was known
But thence they fled as from their mortal Foe; For this sweet Place cou'd only Pleasure know.
Thus, as I mus’d, I cast aside 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 saw with gawdy Pride Of painted Plumes, that hopp'd from side to side, Still pecking as she pass’d; and still she drew TheSweets from ev'ry Flow'r,and fuck'd the Dew: Suffic'd at length, she warbled in her Throat, And tun'd her Voice to many a merry Note, But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear, Yet such as footh'd my Soul, and pleas'd my Ear.
Her short Performance was no fooner try'd, When she I fought, the Nightingale, reply'd; So sweet, fo fhrill, so variously she sung, That the Grove eccho'd, and the Valleys rung: And I so ravish'd with her heav'nly Note I stood intranc'd, and had no room for Thought. But all o'er-pouer'd with Extasie of Bliss, Was in a pleasing Dream of Paradise;
At length I wak'd ; and looking round the Bow'r
On the green Bank I fate, and listen'd long;
Pleasures which no where else were to be found, And all Elysium in a spot of Ground.
Thus while I fate intent to see and hear, And drew Perfumes of more than vital Air, All suddenly I heard th’approaching sound Of vocal Musick, on th'enchanted Ground : An Host of Saints 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 issu'd from the Grove behind A fair Assembly of the Female Kind: A Train less fair, as ancient Fathers tell, Seduc'd the Sons 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 Seams with sparkling Emeralds set around: Their Hoods and Sleeves 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: