Classic Poem

Happy is he, that with fix'd eyes
The fountain of all goodness spies!
Happy is he that can break through
Those bonds which tie him here below!
The Thracian poet long ago,
Kind Orpheus, full of tears and woe,
Did for his lov'd Eurydice
In such sad numbers mourn, that he
Made the trees run in to his moan,
And streams stand still to hear him groan.
The does came fearless in one throng
With lions to his mournful song,
And charmed by the harmonious sound,
The hare stay'd by the quiet hound.
But when Love height'n'd by despair
And deep reflections on his fair
Had swell'd his heart, and made it rise
And run in tears out at his eyes,
And those sweet airs, which did appease
Wild beasts, could give their lord no ease;
Then, vex'd that so much grief and love
Mov'd not at all the gods above,
With desperate thoughts and bold intent,
Towards the shades below he went;
For thither his fair love was fled,
And he must have her from the dead.
There in such lines, as did well suit
With sad airs and a lover's lute,
And in the richest language dress'd
That could be thought on or express'd,
Did he complain; whatever grief
Or art or love--which is the chief,
And all ennobles--could lay out,
In well-tun'd woes he dealt about.
And humbly bowing to the prince
Of ghosts begg'd some intelligence
Of his Eurydice, and where
His beauteous saint resided there.
Then to his lute's instructed groans
He sigh'd out new melodious moans;
And in a melting, charming strain
Begg'd his dear love to life again.
The music flowing through the shade
And darkness did with ease invade
The silent and attentive ghosts;
And Cerberus, which guards those coasts
With his loud barkings, overcome
By the sweet notes, was now struck dumb.
The Furies, us'd to rave and howl
And prosecute each guilty soul,
Had lost their rage, and in a deep
Transport, did most profusely weep.
Ixion's wheel stopp'd, and the curs'd
Tantalus, almost kill'd with thirst,
Though the streams now did make no haste,
But wait'd for him, none would taste.
That vulture, which fed still upon
Tityus his liver, now was gone
To feed on air, and would not stay,
Though almost famish'd, with her prey.
Won with these wonders, their fierce prince
At last cried out, "We yield! and since
Thy merits claim no less, take hence
Thy consort for thy recompense:
But Orpheus, to this law we bind
Our grant: you must not look behind,
Nor of your fair love have one sight,
Till out of our dominions quite."
Alas! what laws can lovers awe?
Love is itself the greatest law!
Or who can such hard bondage brook
To be in love, and not to look?
Poor Orpheus almost in the light
Lost his dear love for one short sight;
And by those eyes, which Love did guide,
What he most lov'd unkindly died!
This tale of Orpheus and his love
Was meant for you, who ever move
Upwards, and tend into that light,
Which is not seen by mortal sight.
For if, while you strive to ascend,
You droop, and towards Earth once bend
Your seduc'd eyes, down you will fall
Ev'n while you look, and forfeit all.