XXXII. Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low despair, Thou imp of Jove; touch'd by celestial fire! Which yet shall sing of war, and actions fair, Which the bold sons of Britain will inspire; Of ancient bards thou yet shalt sweep the lyre; Thou yet shall tread in tragic pall the stage, Paint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire, The sage's calm, the patriot's noble rage, Dashing corruption down through every worthless age. XXXIII. The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell, So that each spacious room was one full swelling bed. XXXIV. And every where hugh cover'd tables stood, And all old ocean genders in his round: Some hand unseen these silently display'd, Even undemanded by a sign or sound; You need but wish, and, instantly obey'd, Fair-rang'd the dishes rose, and thick the glasses play'd. XXXV. Here freedom reign'd, without the least alloy : XXXVI. The rooms with costly tapestry were hung Pour'd forth at large the sweetly-tortur❜d heart; And taught charm'd echo to resound their smart'; While flocks, woods, streams, around, repose and peace impart. XXXVII. Those pleas'd the most, where, by a cunning hand, Depainted was the patriarchal age, What time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee land, And pastur'd on from verdant stage to stage, Where fields and fountains fresh could best engage, Toil was not then. Of nothing took they heed, But with wild beasts the sylvan war to wage, And o'er vast plains their herds and flocks to feed : Blest sons of nature they! true golden age indeed! XXXVIII. Sometimes the pencil, in cool airy halls, Bade the gay bloom of vernal landskips rise, Or autumn's varied shades imbrown the walls: Now the black tempest strikes th' astonish'd eyes; Now down the steep the flashing torrent flies; The trembling sun now plays o'er ocean blue, And now rude mountains frown amid the skies: Whate'er Lorrain light-touch'd with softening hue, Or savage Rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew. XXXIX. Each sound too here to languishment inclin'd, The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares. XL. A certain musicć, never known before, Here lull'd the pensive melancholy mind; Full easily obtain'd. Behooves no more, But sidelong, to the gently-waving wind, To lay the well-tun'd instrument reclin'd: From which, with airy flying fingers light, Beyond each mortal touch the most refin'd, The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight; Whence, with just cause, The Harp of Eolus it hight. XLI. Ah me! what hand can touch the string so fine? Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Now rising love they fann'd; now pleasing dole heart; And now a graver sacred strain they stole, As when seraphic hands an hymn impart : This is not an imagination of the author; there being, in fact, such an instrument, called Eolus's harp, which, when placed against a little rushing or current of air, produces the effect here described. XLII. Such the gay splendour, the luxurious state, Held their bright court, where was of ladies store; XLIII. Near the pavilions where we slept, still ran Yet the least entrance found they none at all; Whence sweeter grew our sleep, secure in massy hall. XLIV. And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, *The Arabian Caliphs had poets among the officers of their court, whose office it was to do what is here mentioned. T |