"DEAR daughter, since thou claim'st me for thy fire, And my fair son here shew'st me; know, I come, Not as an enemy, but to fet free, From out this dark and dismal house of pain, Both him and thee, and all the heav'nly hoft Of spirits, that, in our just pretences arm'd, Fell with us from on high. From them I go This uncouth errand sole; and, one for all, Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread Th' unfounded deep, and, through the void immenfe, To search, with wand'ring quest, a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, are now Created, vast and round; a place of bliss In the purlieus of heav'n; and therein plac'd A race of upstart creatures, to fupply, Perhaps, our vacant room; though more remov'd, Lest heav'n, surcharg'd with potent multitude, Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or ought Than this more fecret, now design'd, I haste To know and this once known, shall foon return, And bring ye to the place; where thou and Death Shall dwell at ease, and, up and down, unfeen, Wing filently the buxom air, imbalm'd With odours: there ye shall be fed and fill'd Immeasurably; all things shall be your prey."

He ceas'd: for both seem'd highly pleas'd; and Death

Grinn'd horrible, a ghastly smile, to heart
His famine should be fill'd. No less rejoic'd
His mother bad, and thus bespake her fire.

j.

"The key of this infernal pit, by due,
And by command of heav'n's all pow'rful king,
I keep; by him forbidden to unlock
These adamantine gates. Against all force
Death ready stands, to interpose his dart,

Fearless

Fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might.
But what owe I to his commands above,

Who hates me, and hath thither thrust me down

1

Into this gloom of Tartarus profound,
To fit in hateful office here confin'd,
Inhabitant of heav'n, and heav'nly-born,
Here, in perpetual agony and pain,
With terrors and with clamours compass'd round
Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed ?
Thou art iny father; thou my author: thou
My being gav'st me. Whom should I obey,
But thee? whom follow ? Thou wilt bring me foon
To that new world of light and blifs, among
The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign
At thy right hand voluptuous, as befeems
Thy daughter and thy darling, without end."

THUS saying-from her side the fatal key,
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took ;
And, straight the huge portcullis high up drew,
Which, but herself, not all the Stygian powers
Could once have mov'd. Then every bolt and bar
Of massy iron, or folid rock, with ease
Unfastens. On a sudden, open fly,
With impetuous recoil, and jarring found,
Th' infernal doors; and, on their hinges, grate
Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook
Of Erebus.

:

XIV.

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER'S

MARRIAGE.

H, that this too, too folid flesh, would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or, that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-flaughter! -
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,
Seem, to me, all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to feed: things rank and gross in nature,
Possess it merely-That it should come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not so much; not two!-
So excellent a king, that was, to this,

Hyperion to a fatyr. So loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n
Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Must I remember-why, the would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: yet, within a month

Let me not think - Frailty, thy name is Woman!
A little month! or ere those shoes were old,
With which the follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears-why, she, ev'n she
(O heav'n! a beast that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer---) married with mine uncle;
My father's brother; but no more like my father,

Than I to Hercules. Within a month!

Ere yet the falt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes-

She

She married-Oh, most wicked speed, to post,
With such dexterity, to incestuous sheets !
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.-
But break, my heart-for I must hold my tongue.

S

X V.

DESCRIPTION OF QUEEN MAB.

HE

is the fancy's midwife and she comes,
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

On the fore-finger of an alderman;
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart men's noses, as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes, made of long spinners' legs,
The cover of the wings of grashoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moon-shine's watery beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film;
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat:
Her chariot, is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirel, or old grub,
Time out of mind, the fairies' coach-makers.

AND, in this state, she gallops, night by night,
Through lovers' brains; and, then, they dream of love:
On courtiers' knees; that dream on curtsies straight:
O'er lawyers' fingers; who straight dream on fees :
O'er ladies' lips; who straight on kisses dream :
And, sometimes, comes she, with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling the parson, as he lies afleep;

Then

Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes, she driveth o'er a foldier's neck;
And, then, he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades;
Of healths five fathom deep; and then, anon,
Drums in his ears; at which he starts and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two-
And fleeps again.

XVI.

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

T

HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world-to darkness and to me.

Now, fades the glimmering landscape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn stillness holds;
Save, where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save, that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of fuch, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient folitary reign.

Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep.

The