THE GRASSHOPPER

ABRAHAM COWLEY

APPY insect! what can be

In happiness compared to thee?

Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill;
'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread,
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou dost see,
All the plants belong to thee,
All that summer hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice:
Man for thee does sow and plough;
Farmer he and landlord thou!
Thou dost innocently joy,

Nor does thy luxury destroy.

The shepherd gladly heareth thee,

More harmonious than he.

Thee, country minds with gladness hear, Prophet of the ripened year!

Thee Phoebus loves and does inspire;
Phœbus is himself thy sire.

To thee of all things upon earth,
Life is no longer than thy mirth.
Happy insect! happy thou,

Dost neither age nor winter know:

But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung Thy fill, the flowery leaves among, (Voluptuous and wise withal,

Epicurean animal)

Sated with the summer feast
Thou retir'st to endless rest.

ON MAY MORNING

JOHN MILTON

OW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Now

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

SONGS

From COMUS

JOHN MILTON

A lady, lost in a wood, has fallen in with an enchanter, Comus, who, by a spell, has fixed her in a chair from which she cannot stir. Her two brothers have come and put the enchanter to flight, but the spell still holds her. A friendly spirit appeals in her behalf to the water nymph Sabrina.

SPIRIT'S SONG TO SABRINA

ABRINA fair,

SAB

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save.

Listen, and appear to us,

In name of great Oceanus;

By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams wiih wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head.
From thy coral-paven bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answered have;
Listen and save.

(Sabrina rises, attended by water nymphs, and sings.)

By the rushy-fringed bank,

Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,

Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen
Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
That in the channel strays;
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request
I am here.

Spirit,

Goddess dear,

We implore thy powerful hand

To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distressed,

Through the force, and through the wile,
Of unblest enchanter vile.

Sabrina,

Shepherd, 'tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity:
Brightest lady, look on me;