Thus charg'd he; nor Argicides denied,
But to his feete his faire wingd shooes he tied,
Ambrosian, golden, that in his command
Put either sea or the unmeasur'd land
With pace as speedie as a puft of wind.
Then up his Rod went, with which he declin'd
The eyes of any waker, when he pleasd,
And any sleeper, when he wisht, diseasd.
This tooke, he stoopt Pieria, and thence
Glid through the aire, and Neptune's Confluence
Kist as he flew, and checkt the waves as light
As any Sea-Mew in her fishing flight,
Her thicke wings soucing in the savorie seas.
Like her, he past a world of wildernesse,
But when the far-off Ile he toucht, he went
Up from the blue sea to the Continent,
And reacht the ample Caverne of the Queene,
Whom he within found — without, seldome seene.
A Sun-like fire upon the harth did flame,
The matter precious, and divine the frame,
Of Cedar cleft, and Incense was the Pile,
That breath'd an odour round about the Ile.
Her selfe was seated in an inner roome,
Whom sweetly sing he heard, and at her loome
About a curious web, whose yarne she threw
In with a golden shittle. A Grove grew
In endlesse spring about her Caverne round,
With odorous Cypresse, Pines, and Poplars crownd,
Where Haulks, Sea-owles, and long-tongu'd Bittours bred,
And other birds their shadie pinions spred —
All Fowles maritimall; none roosted there
But those whose labours in the waters were.
A Vine did all the hollow Cave embrace,
Still greene, yet still ripe bunches gave it grace.
Foure Fountaines one against another powrd
Their silver streames, and medowes all enflowrd
With sweete Balme-gentle and blue Violets hid,
That deckt the soft brests of each fragrant Mead.
Should any one (though he immortall were)
Arrive and see the sacred objects there,
He would admire them and be over-joyd.
And so stood Hermes' ravisht powres employd.