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 And cats a gleame over this tufted Grove. I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but Such noie as I can make to be heard fardet I'll venter, for my new enliv'nd pirits Prompt me; and they perhaps are not farre off.


 * Sweet echo, weetet nymph that liv't uneene
 * Within thy ayrie hell
 * By low Meander's margent greene,
 * And in the violet-imbroider'd vale
 * Where the love-lorne Nightingale
 * Nightly to thee her ad Song mourneth well.


 * Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Paire
 * That liket thy Narcius are?
 * O, if thou have
 * Hid them in ome flowrie Cave,
 * Tell me but where
 * Sweet Queen of Parlie, Daughter of the Sphere,
 * So maist thou be tranlated to the skies,

And give reounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies.
 * Com. Can any mortall mixture of Earths mould

Breath uch Divine inchanting ravihment? Sure omething holy lodges in that bret, And with thee raptures moves the vocal aire To tetifie his hidden reidence; How weetly did they float upon the wings Of Silence, through the emptie-vaulted night At every fall moothing the Raven downe Of darknee till he mil'd: I have oft heard Rh