Come, I say, thou powerful God,
And thy Leaden charming Rod,

Dipt in the Lethean Lake,
O'er his wakeful Temples shake,
Left he shou'd Neep and never wake.
Nature, alass! why art thou so
Obliged to thy greatest Foe?

Sleep that is thy best Repast
Yet of Death it bears a tast,
And both are the same thing at last.

Denbare

XXX.

To Sir Richard Fanshaw, upon his Translation of

Pastor Fido.

Such is our Pride, our Folly, or our Fate,

That few but such as cannot write, translate. But what in them is want of Art, or Voice, In thee is either Modesty or Choice. While this great Piece, restor'd by thee, doth stand Free from the Blemith of an Artless Hand; Secure of Fanie, thou justly doft esteem Less Honour to Create, than to Redeem. Nor ought a Genius less than his that writ, Attempt Translation ; for transplanted Wit, All the Defects of Air and Soil doth thare, And colder Brains like colder Climates are: In vair: they toil, fince nothing can beget A vital Spirit, but a vital Heat. That servile Path thou nobly dost decline Of tracing Word: by Word, and Line by Line.

Those

Those are the labour'd Births of Navish Brains,
Not the Effects of Poetry, but Pains;
Cheap vulgar Arts, whose Narrownels affords
No Flight for Thoughts,but poorly sticks at Words:
A new and nobler way thou doit pursue
To make Tranflations and Translators too.
They but preserve the Athes, thou the Flane,
True to his Sense, but truer to his Fame.
Foording his Current where thou find'It it low
Let'st in thine own to make it rise and How;
Wisely restoring whatsoever Grace
It loft by change of Times, or Tongues, or Place.
Nor fetter'd to his Numbers, and his Times,
Betray'st his Musick to unhappy Rhimes,
Nor are the Nerves of his compacted Strength
Stretch'd and dissolv'd into unsinnewed Length:
Yet after all, left we should think it thine,
Thy Spirit to his Circle dost confine.
New Names, new Dressings, and the modern Cast,
Some Scenes from Persons alter'd, had out-fac'd
The World, it were thy Work; for we have known
Some thank'd and prais'd for what was less their own.
That Master's Hind which to the Life can trace
The Airs, the Lines, and Features of the Face,
May with a free and bolder Stroke express
A vary'd Posture, or a fatt'ring Dress;
He cou'd have made those like, who made the rest,
But that he knew his own Design was best.

Denham.

XXXI.

Eve of herself to Adam.

To whom thus Eve reply’d. O thou for whom,

And from whom I was form’d,Flesh of thy Flesh, And without whom am to no end; my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is juft and right, For we to God indeed all Praises owe, And daily Thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So far the happier Lot, enjoying thee Pre-eminent by so much odds, while thou Like Consort to thy self can st no where find. That Day I oft remember, when from Sleep I first awak'd, and found my self repos'd Under a Shade of Flowers, much wond'ring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring Sound Of Waters issu'd from a Cave, and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd, Pure as th’Expanse of Heav'n ; I thither went With unexperienc'd Thought, and laid me down On the Green Bank, to look into the clear Smooth Lake, that to me feem'd another Sky. fis I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry Gleam appear'd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleas'd I soon return'd, Pleas'd it return'd as foon with answering Looks Of Sympathy and Love; there I had fixt Mine Eyes till now, and pin’d with vain Desire, Had not a Voice thus warnd me, What thou feeft, What there thou feeft, fair Creature, is thy self, With thee it came and goes; but follow me,

And

And I will bring thee where no Shadow stays
Thy coming and thy soft Embraces, he
Whose Image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy
Infeparably thine, tu hiin shalt bear
Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call’d
Mother of Humane Race: What could I do,
But follow straight, invisibly thus led ?
Till I espy'd thee, fair indeed and tall,
Under a Platane, yet methought less fair,
Lefs winning soft, less amiably mild
Than that smooth watry Image ; back I turn'd
Thou following cry'dst'aloud, Return fair Eve,
Whom fly'st thou? Whom thou Ay'st of him thout
His Flesh, his Bone; to give thee Being I lent (art,
Out of niy Side to thee, nearest my Heart
Substantial Life, to have thee by my Side
Henceforth an individual Solace Dear;
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim
My other Self: With that thy gentle Hand
Seiz'd mine, I yielded, and from that time fee
How Beauty is excell'd by Manly Grace
And Wisdom, which alone is truly fair.

So spake our general Mother, and with Eyes
Of conjugal Attraction unreprov'd
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first Father, half her fwelling Breast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose Tresses hid: He in Delight
Both of her Beauty and submissive Charnis
Smild with fuperior Love, as Jupiter
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the Clouds
That shed May-Flowers, and press’d her Matron Lip
With Kisses pure. Aside the Devil turn'd
For Envy, yet with jealous Leer nialign
Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plain'd.

Milton, 1.4

XXXII.

Adam's Account of the Creation of Eve, and

their Marriage. GO OD ended, or I heard no more, for now

My Earthly by his Heav'niy overpower'd, Which it had long stood under, strain'd to th’ In that C leftial Colloquy fublime, (height As with an Object that excels the Sense, Dazi'd and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of Sleep, which instantly fell on me, callid Ey Nature as in Aid, and clos'd mine Eyes. Mine Eyes he clos'd, but open left the Cell Of Fancy, my internal Sight, by which Abstract as in a Trance methought I saw, Tho sleeping, where I lay, and saw the Shape Still Glorious, before whom awake I ftood, Who stooping oren’d my Left Side, and took From thence à Rib, with Cordial Spirits warni, And Life-Blood streaming fresh, wide was ths

(Wound, But suddenly with Flesh filld up and heald : The Rib he form’d and fashion'd with his Hands; Under his forming Hands a Creature grew, Man-like, but different Sex, fo lovely Fair, That what seem'd fair in all the World seem'd now Mean, or in her summ’d up, in her contain'd, And in her Looks, which from that time infus'd Sweetness into my Heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her Air inspir'd The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight. She disappear’d, and left me dark, I wak'd To find her, or for ever to deplore Her lors, and other Pleasures all abjure :

When