Erato
the
Amorous
Muse
on
the
Death
of
John
Dryden
,
Esq.
In
the
wisht
Close
of
Evening's
welcome
gloom
,
My
longing
steps
reacht
an
inviting
Bloom
;
Whose
untrod
Paths
the
sadning
Cypress
grac't
,
And
in
small
Plats
were
softer
Myrtles
plac't
.
The
lofty
Cedars
with
extended
Arms
,
Twine
to
keep
off
the
force
of
roughest
Storms
;
And
numerous
tow'ring
Arbourets
they
made
,
The
solemn
Glory
of
the
pleasing
Shade
:
On
verdant
Moss
,
Nature's
rich
cloth
of
State
,
By
a
clear
thrilling
Stream
supine
I
sate
:
Upon
my
Hand
my
thoughtful
Head
reclin'd
,
Sad
soft
Ideas
entertain'd
my
Mind
,
And
I
to
sing
some
Lovers
fate
inclin'd
;
But
strait
Erato
,
whom
I
did
invoke
,
Forbid
my
Choice
,
her
Speech
abruptly
broke
,
At
last
in
Sighs
the
Interdiction
spoke
.
Ye
shall
no
more
write
tender
moving
Strains
,
To
please
the
Nymphs
and
melt
the
wishing
Swains
But
to
the
World
my
Sorrows
you
shall
tell
,
How
I
have
griev'd
since
the
lost
Heroe
fell
,
My
darling
Dryden
whom
I
lov'd
so
well
.
He
who
has
done
such
Glories
to
my
Name
,
Immortal
as
my
self
has
made
my
Fame
;
Watchful
as
Lovers
I
first
saw
his
Fate
With
raging
Sounds
Parnassus
loss
relate
.
Call'd
all
my
Sisters
with
my
frantick
Cries
,
And
every
God
to
Join
in
th'
Obsequies
,
With
Tears
made
Helycon
brackish
as
the
Seas
.
Like
a
deserted
Maid
in
Wild
Despair
,
I
tore
my
Myrtle
Wreath
and
flowing
Hair
,
My
Mantle
rent
and
shatter'd
in
the
Air
;
Then
in
loose
Cypriss
vail'd
my
useless
Charms
,
Sigh'd
till
I
turn'd
our
Æther
into
Storms
.
No
more
I'll
wanton
on
our
Mountains
brow
,
Nor
curious
Pains
upon
my
Locks
bestow
;
In
amorous
Folds
my
Rosey
Mantle
twine
,
And
sooth
soft
Languishments
in
airs
Divine
:
But
careless
throw
me
in
some
dusky
Shade
,
Which
Willows
,
Cypress
,
Yew
has
awful
made
,
There
to
my
Votress
Eccho
I'll
complain
,
Whose
Complaisance
reverberates
again
,
My
piercing
Groans
thro'
every
Wood
and
Plain
.
Thus
I
and
she
in
an
Eternal
round
,
Will
my
celestial
Griefs
for
Dryden's
Death
resound
.
Dryden
,
who
with
such
Ardour
did
invoke
,
That
I
thro'
him
my
greatest
Raptures
spoke
.
Whisper'd
a
thousand
tender
melting
Things
,
Till
he
writ
Lays
moving
as
Orpheus
strings
.
Oft
I
for
Ink
did
radiant
Nectar
bring
,
And
gave
him
Quills
from
infant
Cupid's
Wing
:
Whose
gentle
force
did
as
Victorious
prove
,
As
if
they'd
been
th'
immortal
Shafts
of
Love
.
Warm'd
every
Breast
with
a
surprizing
Fire
,
And
in
the
nicest
tenderest
Thoughts
inspire
;
Such
Lustre
still
grac't
his
magnetick
Line
,
It
was
both
Irresistless
and
Divine
.
With
what
celestial
Cadence
doth
he
tell
,
The
pristine
Joys
of
Love
,
e'er
Mankind
fell
;
When
in
the
blooming
Grove
the
first
kind
Pair
,
With
amorous
Sighs
fan'd
the
ambrosial
Air
:
Smiling
on
flowry
Banks
supinely
laid
,
The
ardent
Youth
prest
the
unblushing
Maid
.
In
his
soft
Lines
such
Extacies
they
Boast
,
To
hear
their
loves
Rivals
the
Bliss
they
lost
;
When
Cleopatra's
Passion
he
adorns
,
How
Nobly
Anthony
the
Empire
scorns
:
Dissolv'd
in
her
kind
Arms
transported
lay
,
For
Love's
soft
Joy
,
gave
the
rough
Crown
away
.
Such
Realms
of
Bliss
the
Hero
there
possest
,
Sighing
fond
Vows
on
her
returning
Breast
;
Who
reads
their
Languishments
their
Passions
feel
,
Intranc't
in
Joys
too
exquisite
to
tell
.
When
an
incestuous
Flame
his
Theme
has
been
,
He
almost
charms
us
to
forgive
the
Sin
.
My
favourite
Ovid's
strains
I
did
improve
,
And
taught
my
Dryden
tenderer
Arts
of
Love
;
Such
Arts
had
our
addressing
Phoebus
known
,
Daphne
,
tho'
coy
,
had
not
Unconquer'd
flown
,
But
brought
the
Hero
forth
,
and
not
their
Crown
.
He
so
advanc'd
whatever
I
bestow'd
,
I
was
Love's
Muse
,
but
he
himself
the
God
.