[489]: At a solemn music. Lycidas.
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
Ay sung before the saphir-color'd throne,
To him that sit thereon,
With saintly shout and solemn jubilee,
Where the bright seraphim, in burning row,
Their loud-uplifted angel-trumpets blow.
[490]: Lycidas.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honey'd show'rs,
And purple all the ground with vernal flow'rs.
Bring the rath primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white-pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd wood-bine
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And ev'ry flow'r that sad embroid'ry wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
[492]: Faust, Prolog im Himmel.
[493]: Voyez dans Lycidas la prophétie contre l'archevêque Laud:
But that two-handed engin at the door,
Stands ready to smite once and smite no more.
[494]: Arcades.