@3Hail reverend angry Night, hail Queen of Flowers, Mild spirited Zephyrus, hail, Sylvans and Hours. Hesperus brings peace, cease then your needless jars Here in this little firmament of stars. Cynthia is now by Phœbus pacified, And well content her nymph is made a bride. Since the fair match was by that Phœbus graced Which in this happy Western Isle is placed As he in heaven, one lamp enlightening all That under his benign aspect doth fall. Deep oracles he speaks, and he alone For arts and wisdom's meet for Phœbus' throne. The nymph is honoured, and Diana's pleased: Night, be you then, and your black Hours appeased: And friendly listen what your queen by me Farther commands: let this my credence be. View it, and know it for the highest gem, That hung on her imperial diadem.@1 Night. @3I know, and honour it, lovely Hesperus, Speak then your message, both are welcome to us.@1 Hesp. @3Your Sovereign from the virtuous gem she sends Bids you take power to retransform the friends Of Phœbus, metamorphosed here to trees, And give them straight the shapes which they did lese. This is her pleasure.@1 Night. @3Hesperus, I obey, Night must needs yield when Phœbus gets the day.@1 Flora. @3Honoured be Cynthia for this generous deed.@1 Zeph. @3Pity grows only from celestial seed.@1 Night. @3If all seem glad, why should we only lower? Since t' express gladness we have now most power. Frolic, graced captives, we present you here This glass, wherein your liberties appear: Cynthia is pacified, and now blithe Night Begins to shake off melancholy quite.@1 Zeph. @3Who should grace mirth and revels but the Night? Next Love she should be goddess of delight.@1 Night. @3'Tis now a time when@1 (@3Zephyrus@1) @3all with dancing Honour me, above Day my state advancing. I'll now be frolic, all is full of heart, And ev'n these trees for joy shall bear a part: Zephyrus, they shall dance.@1 Zeph. @3Dance, Goddess? how?@1 Night. @3Seems that so full of strangeness to you now? Did not the Thracian harp long since the same? And@1 (@3if we rip the old records of fame@1) @3Did not Amphion's lyre the deaf stones call, When they came dancing to the Theban wall? Can music then joy? joy mountains moves And why not trees? joy's powerful when it loves. Could the religious Oak speak Oracle Like to the Gods? and the tree wounded tell T' Æneas his sad story? have trees therefore The instruments of speech and hearing more Than th' have of pacing, and to whom but Night Belong enchantments? who can more affright The eye with magic wonders? Night alone Is fit for miracles, and this shall be one Apt for this Nuptial dancing jollity. Earth, then be soft and passable to free These fettered roots: joy, trees! the time draws near When in your better forms you shall appear. Dancing and music must prepare the way, There's little tedious time in such delay.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN THE QUAKER WIDOW by BAYARD TAYLOR PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 40. AL-MUKIT by EDWIN ARNOLD ROBIN'S SECRET by KATHARINE LEE BATES TO A FRIEND, WITH A VOLUME OF VERSES by MATHILDE BLIND WORTH FOREST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |