Page:Sir Martyn (1777).djvu/76

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SIR MARTYN.
61

XLIV.

All happinesse he claims his virtues due,

And holds him injurd when my care denies
The fondling wish, whence sorrow would ensue;
And idle still his prayers invade my skies;
But bold and arduous must that virtue rise
Which I accept, no vague inconstant blaze.
Then be it Thine to spred before his eyes
Thy changing colours, and thy wyld-fire rays,
And fruitlesse still shall be that virtue thou canst daze.

XLV.

So swore the God, by gloomy Styx he swore:

The Fates assented, and the Dæmon flew
Right to the Seats of Men. The robe she wore
Was starrd with dewdrops, and of palest blue;
Faire round her head playd many a beauteous hue,
As when the rainbow through the bean-flowres plays;
The fleeting tints the Swaynes with wonder view,
And ween to snatch a prize beneath the rays;
But through the meadows dank the beauteous meteor strays.