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THE PURPLE ISLAND, SELECTION, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: But ah! Let me under some kentish hill
Last Line: A shepherd's bliss nor stands nor falls to ev'ry tongue.


But ah! let me under some Kentish hill
Near rolling Medway 'mong my shepherd peers,
With fearless merry-make and piping still,
Securely pass my few and slow-paced years:
While yet the great Augustus of our nation
Shuts up old Janus in this long cessation,
Strengthening our pleasing ease, and gives us sure vacation.

There may I, master of a little flock,
Feed my poor lambs, and often change their fare:
My lovely mate shall tend my sparing stock,
And nurse my little ones with pleasing care;
Whose love and look shall speak their father plain.
Health be my feast, Heaven hope, content my gain:
So in my little house my lesser heart shall reign.

The beech shall yield a cool safe canopy,
While down I sit, and chant to th'echoing wood:
Ah, singing might I live and singing die!
So by fair Thames or silver Medway's flood,
The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,
In music-strains breathes out her life and verse;
And chanting her own dirge rides on her wat'ry hearse.

What shall I then need seek a patron out,
Or beg a favour from a mistress' eyes,
To fence my song against the vulgar rout,
Or shine upon me with her Geminis?
What care I, if they praise my slender song?
Or reck I, if they do me right or wrong?
A shepherd's bliss nor stands nor falls to ev'ry tongue.





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