c)4 Anne Bradjlreefs Works.
��To Ve7i7is fhrine no Altars raifed are,
Nor venom'd fhafts from painted quiver fly,
Nor wanton Doves of Aphrodites Carr,
Or fluttering there, nor here forlornly lie,
Lome Paramours, not chatting birds tell news
How fage Apollo^ Daphne hot purfues,
Or ftately Jove himfelf is wont to haunt the flews.
��Nor barking Satyrs breath, nor driery clouds [xiii]
Exhal'd from Styx, their difmal drops diftil
Within thefe Fairy, flowry fields, nor fhrouds
The fcreeching night Raven, with his fliady quill:
But Lyrick ftrings here Orpheus nimbly hitts,
Orion on his fadled Dolphin fits,
Chanting as every humour, age & feafon fits.
��Here filver fwans, with Nightingales fet fpells, Which fweetly charm the Traveller, and raife Earths earthed Monarchs, from their hidden Cells, And to appearance fummons lapfed dayes. There heav'nly air, becalms the fwelling frayes, And fury fell of Elements allayes. By paying every one due tribute of his praife.
�� �
