Classic Poem

1
Dance, dance, and visit now the shadowes of our joy,
All in height, and pleasing state, your changed formes imploy.
And as the bird of Jove salutes, with loftie wing, the morn,
So mount, so flie, these Trophees to adorne.
Grace them with all the sounds and motions of delight,
Since all the earth cannot expresse a lovelier sight.
View them with triumph, and in shades the truth adore:
No pompe or sacrifice can please Ioves greatnesse more.
2

Turne, turne, and honor now the life these figures beare;
Loe, how heav'nly natures farre above all art appeare;
Let their aspects revive in you the fire that shin'd so late,
Still mount and still retaine your heavenly state.
Gods were with dance, and with musick serv'd of old,
Those happy daies deriv'd their glorious stile from gold:
This pair, by Hymen joyn'd, grace you with measures then,
Since they are both divine, and you are more then men.