Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell; And had her, but it was upon This short, but strict condition; Backward he should not look, while he Led her through hell's obscurity. But ah! it happen'd, as he made His passage through that dreadful shade, Revolve he did his loving eye, For gentle fear or jealousy; And looking back, that look did sever Him and Eurydice for ever. 219. A REQUEST TO THE GRACES Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility; Let what is graceless, discomposed, and rude, With sweetness, smoothness, softness be endued: Teach it to blush, to curtsey, lisp, and show Demure, but yet full of temptation, too. Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please, Unless they have some wanton carriages:-- This if ye do, each piece will here be good And graceful made by your neat sisterhood. 220. A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID Sea-born goddess, let me be By thy son thus graced, and thee, That whene'er I woo, I find Virgins coy, but not unkind. Let me, when I kiss a maid, Taste her lips, so overlaid With love's sirop, that I may In your temple, when I pray, Kiss the altar, and confess There's in love no bitterness. 221. TO BACCHUS: A CANTICLE Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee? This way, that way, that way, this,-- Here and there a fresh Love is; That doth like me, this doth please; --Thus a thousand mistresses I have now: yet I alone, Having all, enjoy not one! 222. A HYMN TO BACCHUS Bacchus, let me drink no more! Wild are seas that want a shore! When our drinking has no stint, There is no one pleasure in't. I have drank up for to please Thee, that great cup, Hercules. Urge no more; and there shall be Daffadils giv'n up to thee. 223. A CANTICLE TO APOLLO Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play! And as he leads the way Through heaven, the very spheres, As men, turn all to ears! 224. TO MUSIC, TO BECALM A SWEET SICK YOUTH Charms, that call down the moon from out her sphere, On this sick youth work your enchantments here! Bind up his senses with your numbers, so As to entrance his pain, or cure his woe. Fall gently, gently, and a-while him keep Lost in the civil wilderness of sleep: That done, then let him, dispossess'd of pain, Like to a slumbering bride, awake again. 225. TO MUSIC: A SONG