The
SACRIFICE
.
An
EPISTLE
to
CELIA
.
IF
you
,
dear
Celia
,
cannot
bear
,
The
low
Delights
that
others
share
:
If
nothing
will
your
Palate
fit
But
Learning
,
Eloquence
,
and
Wit
,
Why
,
you
may
sit
alone
(
I
ween
)
'Till
you're
devour'd
with
the
Spleen
:
But
if
Variety
can
please
With
humble
Scenes
and
careless
Ease
;
If
Smiles
can
banish
Melancholy
,
Or
Whimsy
with
its
Parent
Folly
;
If
any
Joy
in
these
there
be
,
I
dare
invite
you
down
to
me
.
You
know
these
little
Roofs
of
mine
Are
always
sacred
to
the
Nine
;
This
Day
we
make
a
Sacrifice
To
the
Parnassian
Deities
,
Which
I
am
order'd
by
Apollo
,
To
shew
you
in
the
Words
that
follow
.
As
first
we
purge
the
hallow'd
Room
,
With
soft
Utensil
call'd
a
Broom
;
And
next
for
you
a
Throne
prepare
,
Which
vulgar
Mortals
call
a
Chair
,
While
Zephyrs
from
an
Engine
blow
,
And
bid
the
sparkling
Cinders
glow
;
Then
gather
round
the
mounting
Flames
,
The
Priestess
and
assembl'd
Dames
,
While
some
inferior
Maid
shall
bring
Clear
Water
from
the
bubbling
Spring
:
Shut
up
in
Vase
of
sable
Dye
,
Secure
from
each
unhallow'd
Eye
,
Fine
wheaten
Bread
you
next
behold
,
Like
that
which
Homer
sings
of
old
,
And
by
some
unpolluted
Fair
It
must
be
scorch'd
with
wond'rous
Care
:
So
far
'tis
done
:
And
now
behold
The
sacred
Vessels
—
not
of
Gold
:
Of
polish'd
Earth
must
they
be
form'd
,
With
Painting
curiously
adorn'd
,
These
Rites
are
past
:
And
now
must
follow
The
grand
Libation
to
Apollo
,
Of
Juices
drawn
from
magick
Weeds
,
And
Pith
of
certain
Indian
Reeds
.
For
Flow'r
of
Milk
the
Priestess
calls
,
Her
Voice
re-echoes
from
the
Walls
;
With
hers
the
sister
Voices
blend
,
And
with
the
od'rous
Steam
ascend
:
Each
fair
One
now
a
Sibyl
grows
,
And
ev'ry
Cheek
with
Ardour
glows
,
And
(
tho'
not
quite
beside
their
Wits
)
Are
seiz'd
with
deep
prophetick
Fits
,
Some
by
mysterious
Figures
show
That
Celia
loves
a
shallow
Beau
;
And
some
by
Signs
and
Hints
declare
,
That
Damon
will
not
wed
Ziphair
:
Their
Neighbours
Fortunes
each
can
tell
,
So
potent
is
the
mighty
Spell
.
This
is
the
Feast
and
this
,
my
Friend
,
Are
you
commanded
to
attend
:
Yes
at
your
Peril
:
But
adieu
,
I've
tir'd
both
myself
and
you
.