A POETICK DESCANT UPON A Private Musick-Meeting.

MUSE! Rise, and plume thy Feet, and let's convers
This Mor'n together: Let's rehers
Last Evening's Sweets; and run one Heat in ful-speed Vers.
Prank not thy Self in Metaphors; but pound
Thy ranging Tropes, that they may sound
Nothing but what our Paradise did then surround.
Thron'd first Parthenian-heav'n-bred Beauties were,
Neer Chrystal casements Eastern Sphere;
Who, like to VENUS, sparkled, yet more chaste then fair.
'Mongst which, one radiant Star so largely shone,
Shee seem'd a CONSTELLATION;
Her Front 'bove Lilie-white, Cheek 'bove Rose-red, full blown.
Yet bee not Planet-struck, like som that gaze
Too eagerly on Beautie's blaze;
There's none like Thine, Dear MUSE! theirs are but Meteor-raies.
Suitors to Idols offer idle Suits,
Which hold their Presence more recruit's
Their broken Hopes, then Viols, Pedals, Organs, Lutes.
But, whist! The Masculine sweet Planets met,
Their Instruments in tune have set,
And now begin to ransack Musick's Cabinet.
SOL! Thou pure Fountain of this Streaming Nois!
Patron of Sweetness! Soul of Joies!
How were wee ravisht with thy Viol's warbling Voice!
Thy Nectar-dropping Joints so plai'd their part,
They forc'd the Fibers of our heart
To dance: Thy Bow's swift-lightning made the Leero start.
Thou didst ev'n saw the grumbling Catlines still,
And tortured'st the Base, until
His roaring Diapasons did the whole Room fill.
LUNA the Pedal richly did adorn;
If 'twixt the Cedar and the Thorn
There's ought harmonious, 'twas from this sweet Fir-tree born.
As Philomel, Night's-Minstrel, jugg's her tides
Of rowling Melodie; Shee ride's
On Surges down to th' Deep; and, when Shee list's, up glide's.
JOVE Cataracts of Liquid Gold did powr,
More pretious then his Danaë's Showr:
From Pedal-drops to Organ-deluge swell'd the Stour.
MARS twang'd a Violin (his fierce Drums for fight
Turn'd to brisk Almans) with what spr'ite
His Treble shrill'd forth Marches, which Hee strain'd to the hight!
His active Bow, arm'd with a War-like Tone,
Ralli'd his Troops of Strings, as one,
Which Vollies gave i' th' chace of swift Division.
So the Pelean Youth was vanquish'd still
By his renown'd Musician's Skill,
Which could disarm, and arm the Conquerour at will.
Last, MERCURIE with ravishing Strains fell on,
Whose Violin seem'd the Chymick-stone,
For everie melting Touch was pure Projection.
Chair'd midst the Spheres of Musick's Heav'n, I hear,
I gaze; charm'd all to Eie and Ear;
Both which, with Objects too intens, ev'n martyr'd were.
Th' Excess of Fairs, distill'd through Sweets, did woo
My wav'ring Soul, maz'd what to do,
Or to quit Eies for Ears, or Ears for Eies forgo.
Giddie i' th' change which Sex to crown with Prais;
Time swore Hee never was with Laies
More sweetly spent; nor Beautie ever beam'd such Raies.
'Twixt these Extremes mine Eies and Ears did straie,
And sure it was no time to praie,
The DEITIES themselvs then beeing All at Plaie.
The ful-throng'd Room it's Ruine quite defie's:
Nor Fairs, nor Airs are pond'rous; Skies
Do scorn to shrink, though pil'd with Stars and Harmonies.
Form, Beautie, Sweetness, All did here conspire,
Combin'd in one Celestial Quire,
To charm the Enthusiastick Soul with Enthean Fire:
These buoy up care-sunk Thoughts; Their Power endue's
A Castril brain with Eagle-Muse:
When SAINTS would highest soar, They MUSICK Pineons use.
Musick! thy Med'cines can our Griefs allaie,
And re-inspire our lumpish Claie:
MUSE! Thou transcend'st; Thou without Instruments canst plaie.
Blandulis longum Vale CANTILENIS. E. BENEVOLUS. [...].

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.