And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 70 And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould with gross unpurged ear. And yet such music worthiest were to blaze The peerless height of her immortal praise 75 Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, If my inferior hand or voice could hit Inimitable sounds. Yet, as we go, Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can show I will assay, her worth to celebrate, 80 And so attend ye toward her glittering state; Where ye may all, that are of noble stem, Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. II. _Song._ O'er the smooth enamelled green, Where no print of step hath been, 85 Follow me, as I sing And touch the warbled string: Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof Follow me. 90 I will bring you where she sits, Clad in splendor as befits Her deity. Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not seen. 95 III. _Song._ Nymphs and Shepherds, dance no more By sandy Ladon's lilied banks; On old Lycaeus, or Cyllene hoar, Trip no more in twilight ranks; Though Erymanth your loss deplore, 100 A better soil shall give ye thanks. From the stony Maenalus Bring your flocks, and live with us; Here ye shall have greater grace, To serve the Lady of this place. 105 Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not seen. AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.