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Rh 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.

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.