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POEMS. 199
After the heav'nly tune, which none can hear
Of human mould with grofs unpurged ear ;
And yet fuch mufic worthier! were to blaze
The peerlefs height of her immortal praife,
Whofe luftre leads us, and for her moll fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable founds, yet as we go,
Whate'er the fkill of lefTer gods can fhow,
I will aflay, her worth to celebrate,
And fo attend ye toward her glittering ftatej
Where ye may all that are of noble flem
Approach, and kifs her facred vefture's hem.
2. SONG.
O'er the fmooth enamell'd green,
Where no print of ftep hath been,
Follow me as I fing,
And touch the warbled firing,
Under the fhady roof
Of branching elm ftar-proof.
Follow me,
I will bring you where fhe fits,
Clad in fplendour as befits
Her deity.
Such a rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not feen.