Come, Mercury, by whose minstrel spellAmphion raised the Theban stones,Come, with thy seven sweet strings, my shell,Thy “diverse tones,”Nor vocal once nor pleasant, nowTo rich man's board and temple dear:Put forth thy power, till Lyde bowHer stubborn ear.She, like a three-year colt unbroke,Is frisking o'er the spacious plain,Too shy to bear a lover's yoke,A husband's rein.The wood, the tiger, at thy callHave follow'd: thou caust rivers stay:The monstrous guard of Pluto's hallTo thee gave way,Grim Cerberus, round whose Gorgon headA hundred snakes are hissing death,Whose triple jaws black venom shed,And sickening breath.