JOHN MILTON
There on Beds of Violets blew, And fresh-blown Roses washt in dew, Fill'd her with thce a daughter fair, So bucksom, blith, and debonair.
Haste thce nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wileb, Nods, and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's check, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrincled -Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Com, and trip it as yc go On the light fantastick toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee, The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crue To live with her, and live with thce, In unreproved pleasures free; To hear the Lark begin his flight, And binging startle the dull night, From his watch -towre in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to com in spight of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, Or the twisted Eglantine. While the Cock with lively din, Scatters the rear of darknes thin, And to the stack, or the Barn dore, Stoutly struts his Dames before,
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