And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and [with new-spangled ore] 170
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of [Him that walked the waves],
Where, other groves and other streams along,
[With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves], 175
And hears [the unexpressive nuptial song],
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,