Sooner will he relent. (_others_) 'Tis well--we do it--'tis well.-- (1) Come let us vow. Vow all with one accord To harden every heart 640 Till we have won Poseidon to our part. (_all_) We vow--we do it--we vow. (1) Till we have conquer'd heav'n's almighty lord And seen Persephone restored. (_all_) We vow--we vow. (1) Come then all; and, as ye go, Begin the song of woe. _Song._ Close up, bright flow'rs, and hang the head, Ye beauties of the plain, The Queen of Spring is with the dead, 650 Ye deck the earth in vain. From your deserted vale we fly, And where the salt waves mourn Our song shall swell their burd'ning sigh Until sweet joy return. ACT III _CHORUS._ _Song._ Lo where the virgin veilëd in airy beams, All-holy Morn, in splendor awakening, Heav'n's gate hath unbarrèd, the golden Aerial lattices set open. With music endeth night's prisoning terror, 660 With flow'ry incense: Haste to salute the sun, That for the day's chase, like a huntsman, With flashing arms cometh o'er the mountain. _Inter se._ That were a song for Artemis--I have heard Men thus salute the rising sun in spring-- --See, we have wreaths enough and garlands plenty To hide our lov'd Persephone from sight If she should come.--But think you she will come?-- If one might trust the heavens, it is a morn Promising happiness--'Tis like the day 670 That brought us all our grief a year ago.-- _ODE._ O that the earth, or only this fair isle wer' ours Amid the ocean's blue billows, With flow'ry woodland, stately mountain and valley, Cascading and lilied river; Nor ever a mortal envious, laborious, By anguish or dull care opprest, Should come polluting with remorseful countenance Our haunt of easy gaiety. For us the grassy slopes, the country's airiness, 680 The lofty whispering forest, Where rapturously Philomel invoketh the night And million eager throats the morn; With doves at evening softly cooing, and mellow Cadences of the dewy thrush. We love the gentle deer, the nimble antelope; Mice love we and springing squirrels; To watch the gaudy flies visit the blooms, to hear On ev'ry mead the grasshopper. All thro' the spring-tide, thro' the indolent summer, 690 (If only this fair isle wer' ours) Here might we dwell, forgetful of the weedy caves Beneath the ocean's blue billows. _Enter Demeter._ CH. Hail, mighty Mother!--Welcome, great Demeter!-- (1) This day bring joy to thee, and peace to man!