Empress, the way is readie, and not long,

Beyond a row of Myrtles, on a Flat,

Fast by a Fountain, one small Thicket past

Of blowing Myrrh and Balme; if thou accept

My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon. [ 630 ]

Lead then, said Eve. Hee leading swiftly rowld

In tangles, and made intricate seem strait,

To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy

Brightns his Crest, as when a wandring Fire

Compact of unctuous vapor, which the Night [ 635 ]

Condenses, and the cold invirons round,

Kindld through agitation to a Flame,

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