But, first and chiefest, with thee bring

Him that yon soars on golden wing,

Guiding [the fiery-wheeled throne],

[The Cherub Contemplation];

And the mute Silence [hist] along, 55

[‘Less Philomel will deign a song],

In her sweetest, saddest [plight],

Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,

While [Cynthia checks her dragon yoke]

Gently o’er the accustomed oak. 60