I groan'd, and hiding with my arm my head, in a flood of tears lean'd
on the pillow: Nor did she then, less troubled, sit on the bed, and
began in a shrill voice, to blame her age, till the priestess came in
upon us; and "what," said she, "do you do in my chappel, as if some
funeral had lately been, rather than a holy-day, in which, even the
mournful are merry?"
"Alas, my Enothea!" said she, "this youth was born under an ill star;
for neither boy nor maid can raise him to a perfect appetite; you
ne're beheld a more unhappy man: In his garden the weak willow, not
the lusty cedar grows; in short, you may guess what he is, that cou'd
rise unblest from Circe's bed."
Upon this, Enothea fixt her self between us, and moving her head a
while; "I," said she, "am the only one that can give remedy for that
disease; and not to delay it, let him sleep with me to night; and next
morning, examine how vigorous I shall have made him.
"'All Nature's works my magick powers obey,
The blooming earth shall wither and decay,
And when I please, agen be fresh and gay.
From rugged rocks, I make sweet waters flow,
And raging billows to me humbly bow.
With rivers, winds, when I command, obey,
And at my feet, their fans contracted lay,
Tygers and dragons too, my will obey.
But these are small, when of my magick verse,
Descending Cynthia does the power confess.
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