WHAT needs my Shakespeare, for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a live-long monument. For whilst, to shame of slow-endeavouring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving; And so sepulchered in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. SONG ON MAY MORNING NOW the bright morning star, day’s harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth and youth and young desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee and wish thee long. INVOCATION TO SABRINA, FROM COMUS SABRINA fair! Listen, where thou art sitting, Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thine amber-dripping hair, Listen for dear honour’s sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save! Listen, and appear to us, In name of great Oceanus, By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace, And Tethys’ grave majestic pace; By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard’s hook; By scaly Triton’s winding shell, And old soothsaying Glaucus’ spell; By Leucothea’s lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands; By Thetis’ tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of sirens sweet; By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb, And fair Ligea’s golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks Sleeking her soft alluring locks; By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance; Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answered have. Listen and save! INVOCATION TO ECHO, FROM COMUS