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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Of witches' dance, ghastly with whinings thin, And palsied nods mirth, wicked, sad, and weak; And then with show of skill mechanical, Marvellous as witchcraft he would overthrow That vision with a show'r of notes like hail; Flashing the sharp tones now, In downward leaps like swords; now rising fine Into some utmost tip of minute sound, From whence he stepp'd into a higher and higher On viewless points, till laugh took leave of him.
Now AEtna's flames with an usual roar Vomit huge bolts of thunder in the air, Amidst the tombs and bones without their urns, Portending spirits send up dismal groans: A comet's seen with stars unknown before, And Jove descending in a bloody show'r: The god these wonders did in short unfold, Caesar their ills no longer shou'd with-hold.
"Yet the lily has drank of the show'r, And the rose 'gins to peep on the day; And yon bee seems to search for a flow'r, As busy as if it were May: In vain, thou senseless flutt'ring thing, My heart informs me, 'tis not Spring." May pois'd her roseate wings, for she had heard The mourner, as she pass'd the vales along; And, silencing her own indignant bird, She thus reprov'd poor Silvio's song.
Patron thou art of every gross abuse; The sullen husband's feign'd excuse, When the ill humours with his wife he spends, And bears recruited wit, and spirits to his friends The son of Bacchus pleads thy pow'r As to the glass he still repairs Pretends but to remove thy cares, Snatch from thy shades, one gay, and smiling hour, And drown thy kingdom in a purple show'r.
For by saying "rolling" he notes the force of the wave rushing on from above, but the wind "driving" signifies a force applied to what is higher, coming from what is lower. Who sent from Heav'n a show'r of blood-stained rain, But to the ground some drops of blood let fall, Whose blood, beside Scamander's flowing stream, Fierce Mars has shed, while to the viewless shade Their spirits are gone,
"Near Avon's ridgy bank there grows A willow of no vulgar size, That tree first heard poor Silvio's woes, And heard how bright were Laura's eyes. Its boughs were shade from heat or show'r, Its roots a moss-grown seat became; Its leaves would strew the maiden's bow'r, Its bark was shatter'd with her name!
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