Classic Poem

I 'ave read thy Souls fair night-peece, and have seen
Th' Amours and Courtship of the silent Queen ,
Her stoln descents to Earth, and what did move her
To Juggle first with Heav'n , then with a Lover ,
With Latmos lowder rescue, and (alas!)
To find her out a Hue and Crie in Brasse,
Thy Journall of deep Mysteries, and sad
Nocturnall Pilgrimage, with thy dreams clad
In fancies darker than thy Cave , Thy Glasse
Of sleepie draughts, and as thy soul did passe
In her calm voyage what discourse she heard
Of Spirits, what dark Groves and ill-shap'd guard
Ismena lead thee through, with thy proud flight
O'r Periardes , and deep, musing night
Neere fair Eurotas banks, what solemn green
The neighbour shades weare, and what forms are seen
In their large Bowers, with that sad path and seat
Which none but light-heeld Nymphs and Fairies beat;
Their solitary life, and how exempt
From Common frailtie, the severe contempt
They have of Man, their priviledge to live
A Tree , or Fountain , and in that Reprieve
What ages they consume, with the sad Vale
Of Diophania , and the mournfull tale,
Of th' bleeding vocall Myrile ; These and more
Thy richer thoughts we are upon the score
To thy rare fancy for, nor doest thou fall
From thy first Majesty, or ought at all
Betray Consumption, thy full vig'rous Bayes
Wear the same green , and scorn the lene decayes
Of stile , or matter ; Just so have I known
Some Chrystal spring, that from the neighbour down
Deriv'd her birth, in gentle murmurs steal
To their next Vale, and proudly there reveal
Her streams in lowder accents, adding still
More noise and waters to her Channell, till
At last swoln with Increase she glides along
The Lawnes and Meadows in a wanton throng
Of frothy billows, and in one great name
Swallows the tributary brooks drown'd fame.
Nor are they meere Inventions, for we
In th' same peece find scatter'd Philosophie
And hidden, disperst truths that folded lye
In the dark shades of deep Allegorie ,
So neatly weav'd, like Arras , they descrie
Fables with Truth, Fancy with Historie .
So that thou hast in this thy curious mould
Cast that commended mixture wish'd of old,
Which shall these Contemplations render far
Lesse mutable, and lasting as their star,
And while there is a People , or a Sunne ,
Endymions storie with the Moon shall runne.