The Poetical Works of John Milton
by John Milton · English · Gutenberg #1745 · 931,420 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Poetical Works of John Milton
Author: John Milton
Editor: H. C. Beeching
Release date: May 1, 1999 [eBook #1745]
Most recently updated: November 11, 2019
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1745
Credits: Produced by Donal O'Danachair, and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON ***
Produced by Donal O'Danachair
THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON
By John Milton
Transcriber's Notes:
This e-text contains all of Milton's poems in English and Italian. Poems
in Latin have been omitted.
The original spelling, capitalisation and punctuation have been retained
as far as possible. Characters not in the ANSI standard set have been
replaced by their nearest equivalent. The AE & OE digraphs have been
transcribed as two letters. Accented letters in the Italian poems have
been replaced by the unaccented letter.
No italics have been retained.
Footnotes have been moved to the end of the poem to which they refer; in
Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained they have been moved to the end of
the book.
Contents:
PREFACE by the Rev. H. C. Beeching, M. A.
THE STATIONER TO THE READER.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
THE PASSION.
ON TIME.
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
AT A SOLEMN MUSICK.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.
SONG ON MAY MORNING.
ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630.
ANOTHER ON THE SAME.
L'ALLEGRO.
IL PENSEROSO.
SONNETS.
ARCADES.
LYCIDAS.
A MASK PRESENTED At LUDLOW-Castle, 1634. &c.
POEMS ADDED IN THE 1673 EDITION.
ANNO AETATIS 17. ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH.
THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. LIB. I.
SONNETS.
ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT.
ON THE LORD GEN. FAIRFAX AT THE SEIGE OF COLCHESTER.
TO THE LORD GENERALL CROMWELL MAY 1652.
TO SR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER.
TO MR. CYRIACK SKINNER UPON HIS BLINDNESS.
PSAL. I. Done into Verse, 1653.
PSAL. II Done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzetti.
PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653
PSAL. IV. Aug. 10.1653.
PSAL. V. Aug. 12.1653.
PSAL. VI Aug. 13. 1653.
PSAL. VII. Aug. 14. 1653.
PSAL. VIII. Aug. 14. 1653.
APRIL, 1648. J. M. NINE OF THE PSALMS DONE INTO METRE,
PSAL. LXXX.
PSAL. LXXXI.
PSAL. LXXXII.
PSAL. LXXXIV.
PSAL LXXXV.
PSAL. LXXXVI.
PSAL. LXXXVII
PSAL. LXXXVIII
COLLECTION OF PASSAGES TRANSLATED IN THE PROSE WRITINGS.
[From Of Reformation in England, 1641.]
[From Reason of Church Government, 1641.]
[From Apology for Smectymnuus, 1642.]
[From Areopagitica, 1644.]
[From Tetrachordon, 1645.]
[From The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, 1649.]
[From History of Britain, 1670.]
PARADISE LOST.
ON Paradise Lost.
THE VERSE.
BOOK I.
BOOK II.
BOOK III.
BOOK IV.
BOOK V.
BOOK VI.
BOOK VII.
BOOK VIII.
BOOK IX.
BOOK X.
BOOK XI.
BOOK XII.
PARADISE REGAIN'D.
The First Book.
The Second Book.
The Third Book.
The Fourth Book.
SAMSON AGONISTES
Of that sort of Dramatic Poem which is call'd Tragedy.
The Argument.
APPENDIX.
ON TIME
PREFACE by the Rev. H. C. Beeching, M. A.
This edition of Milton's Poetry is a reprint, as careful as Editor and
Printers have been able to make it, from the earliest printed copies of
the several poems. First the 1645 volume of the Minor Poems has been
printed entire; then follow in order the poems added in the reissue of
1673; the Paradise Lost, from the edition of 1667; and the Paradise
Regain'd and Samson Agonistes from the edition of 1671.
The most interesting portion of the book must be reckoned the first
section of it, which reproduces for the first time the scarce small
octavo of 1645. The only reprint of the Minor Poems in the old
spelling, so far as I know, is the one edited by Mitford, but that
followed the edition of 1673, which is comparatively uninteresting since
it could not have had Milton's oversight as it passed through the press.
We know that it was set up from a copy of the 1645 edition, because it
reproduces some pointless eccentricities such as the varying form of the
chorus to Psalm cxxxvi; but while it corrects the errata tabulated in
that edition it commits many more blunders of its own. It is valuable,
however, as the editio princeps of ten of the sonnets and it contains
one important alteration in the Ode on the Nativity. This and all other
alterations will be found noted where they occur. I have not thought it
necessary to note mere differences of spelling between the two editions
but a word may find place here upon their general character. Generally
it may be said that, where the two editions differ, the later spelling
is that now in use. Thus words like goddess, darkness, usually written
in the first edition with one final s, have two, while on the other
hand words like vernall, youthfull, and monosyllables like hugg, farr,
lose their double letter. Many monosyllables, e.g. som, cours, glimps,
wher, vers, aw, els, don, ey, ly, so written in 1645, take on in 1673 an
e mute, while words like harpe, windes, onely, lose it. By a reciprocal
change ayr and cipress become air and cypress; and the vowels in daign,
vail, neer, beleeve, sheild, boosom, eeven, battail, travailer, and many
other words are similarly modernized. On the other hand there are a few
cases where the 1645 edition exhibits the spelling which has succeeded
in fixing itself, as travail (1673, travel) in the sense of labour; and
rob'd, profane, human, flood and bloody, forest, triple, alas, huddling,
are found where the 1673 edition has roab'd, prophane, humane, floud and
bloudy, forrest, tripple, alass and hudling. Indeed the spelling in
this later edition is not untouched by seventeenth century
inconsistency. It retains here and there forms like shameles, cateres,
(where 1645 reads cateress), and occasionally reverts to the
older-fashioned spelling of monosyllables without the mute e. In the
Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester, it reads--' And som flowers
and some bays.' But undoubtedly the impression on the whole is of a
much more modern text.
In the matter of small or capital letters I have followed the old copy,
except in one or two places where a personification seemed not plainly
enough marked to a modern reader without a capital. Thus in Il
Penseroso, l. 49, I print Leasure, although both editions read leasure;
and in the Vacation Exercise, l. 71, Times for times. Also where the
employment or omission of a capital is plainly due to misprinting, as
too frequently in the 1673 edition, I silently make the correction.
Examples are, notes for Notes in Sonnet xvii. l. 13; Anointed for
anointed in Psalm ii. l.12.
In regard to punctuation I have followed the old printers except in
obvious misprints, and followed them also, as far as possible, in their
distribution of roman and italic type and in the grouping of words and
lines in the various titles. To follow them exactly was impossible, as
the books are so very different in size.
At this point the candid reader may perhaps ask what advantage is gained
by presenting these poems to modern readers in the dress of a bygone
age. If the question were put to me I should probably evade it by
pointing out that Mr. Frowde is issuing an edition based upon this, in
which the spelling is frankly that of to-day. But if the question were
pressed, I think a sufficient answer might be found. To begin with, I
should point out that even Prof. Masson, who in his excellent edition
argues the point and decides in favour of modern spelling, allows that
there are peculiarities of Milton's spelling which are really
significant, and ought therefore to be noted or preserved. But who is
to determine exactly which words are spelt according to the poet's own
instructions, and which according to the printer's whim? It is
notorious that in Paradise Lost some words were spelt upon a deliberate
system, and it may very well happen that in the volume of minor poems
which the poet saw through the press in 1645, there were spellings no
less systematic. Prof. Masson makes a great point of the fact that
Milton's own spelling, exhibited in the autograph manuscript of some of
the minor poems preserved in Trinity College, Cambridge, does not
correspond with that of the printed copy. [Note: This manuscript,
invaluable to all students of Milton, has lately been facsimiled under
the superintendence of Dr. Aldis Wright, and published at the Cambridge
University press]. This is certainly true, as the reader may see for
himself by comparing the passage from the manuscript given in the
appendix with the corresponding place in the text. Milton's own
spelling revels in redundant e's, while the printer of the 1645 book is
very sparing of them. But in cases where the spelling affects the
metre, we find that the printed text and Milton's manuscript closely
correspond; and it is upon its value in determining the metre, quite as
much as its antiquarian interest, that I should base a justification of
this reprint. Take, for instance, such a line as the eleventh of Comus,
which Prof. Masson gives as:--
Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats.
A reader not learned in Miltonic rhythms will certainly read this
Amongst th' enthroned gods
But the 1645 edition reads:
Amongst the enthron'd gods
and so does Milton's manuscript. Again, in line 597, Prof.
Masson reads:
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail,
The pillared firmament is rottenness, &c.
But the 1645 text and Milton's manuscript read self-consum'd; after
which word there is to be understood a metrical pause to mark the
violent transition of the thought.
Again in the second line of the Sonnet to a Nightingale Prof. Masson
has:
Warblest at eve when all the woods are still
but the early edition, which probably follows Milton's spelling though
in this case we have no manuscript to compare, reads 'Warbl'st.' So the
original text of Samson, l. 670, has 'temper'st.'
The retention of the old system of punctuation may be less defensible,
but I have retained it because it may now and then be of use in
determining a point of syntax. The absence of a comma, for example,
after the word hearse in the 58th line of the Epitaph on the Marchioness
of Winchester, printed by Prof. Masson thus:--
And some flowers, and some bays
For thy hearse to strew thy ways,
but in the 1645 edition:--
And som Flowers, and som Bays,
For thy Hears to strew the ways,
goes to prove that for here must be taken as 'fore.
Of the Paradise Lost there were two editions issued during Milton's
lifetime, and while the first has been taken as our text, all the
variants in the second, not being simple misprints, have been recorded
in the notes. In one respect, however, in the distribution of the poem
into twelve books instead of ten, it has seemed best, for the sake of
practical convenience, to follow the second edition. A word may be
allowed here on the famous correction among the Errata prefixed to the
first edition: 'Lib. 2. v. 414, for we read wee.' This correction
shows not only that Milton had theories about spelling, but also that he
found means, though his sight was gone, to ascertain whether his rules
had been carried out by his printer; and in itself this fact justifies a
facsimile reprint. What the principle in the use of the double vowel
exactly was (and it is found to affect the other monosyllabic pronouns)
it is not so easy to discover, though roughly it is clear the
reduplication was intended to mark emphasis. For example, in the speech
of the Divine Son after the battle in heaven (vi. 810-817) the pronouns
which the voice would naturally emphasize are spelt with the double
vowel:
Stand onely and behold
Gods indignation on these Godless pourd
By mee; not you but mee they have despis'd,
Yet envied; against mee is all thir rage,
Because the Father, t'whom in Heav'n supream
Kingdom and Power and Glorie appertains,
Hath honourd me according to his will.
Therefore to mee thir doom he hath assign'd.
In the Son's speech offering himself as Redeemer (iii. 227-249) where
the pronoun all through is markedly emphasized, it is printed mee the
first four times, and afterwards me; but it is noticeable that these
first four times the emphatic word does not stand in the stressed place
of the verse, so that a careless reader might not emphasize it, unless
his attention were specially led by some such sign:
Behold mee then, mee for him, life for life
I offer, on mee let thine anger fall;
Account mee man.
In the Hymn of Creation (v.160-209) where ye occurs fourteen times, the
emphasis and the metric stress six times out of seven coincide, and the
pronoun is spelt yee; where it is unemphatic, and in an unstressed
place, it is spelt ye. Two lines are especially instructive:
Speak yee who best can tell, ye Sons of light (l. 160);
and
Fountains and yee, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise (l. 195).
In v. 694 it marks, as the voice by its emphasis would mark in
reading, a change of subject:
So spake the false Arch-Angel, and infus'd
Bad influence into th' unwarie brest
Of his Associate; hee (i. e. the associate) together calls,
&c.
An examination of other passages, where there is no antithesis, goes to
show that the lengthened form of the pronoun is most frequent before a
pause (as vii. 95); or at the end of a line (i. 245, 257); or when a
foot is inverted (v. 133); or when as object it precedes its verb (v.
612; vii. 747), or as subject follows it (ix. 1109; x. 4). But as we
might expect under circumstances where a purist could not correct his
own proofs, there are not a few inconsistencies. There does not seem,
for example, any special emphasis in the second wee of the following
passage:
Freely we serve.
Because wee freely love, as in our will
To love or not; in this we stand or fall (v. 538).
On the other hand, in the passage (iii. 41) in which the poet
speaks of his own blindness:
Thus with the Year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, &c.
where, if anywhere, we should expect mee, we do not find it, though it
occurs in the speech eight lines below. It should be added that this
differentiation of the pronouns is not found in any printed poem of
Milton's before Paradise Lost, nor is it found in the Cambridge
autograph. In that manuscript the constant forms are me, wee, yee.
There is one place where there is a difference in the spelling of she,
and it is just possible that this may not be due to accident. In the
first verse of the song in Arcades, the MS. reads:
This, this is shee;
and in the third verse:
This, this is she alone.
This use of the double vowel is found a few times in Paradise Regain'd:
in ii. 259 and iv. 486, 497 where mee begins a line, and in iv. 638
where hee is specially emphatic in the concluding lines of the poem. In
Samson Agonistes it is more frequent (e.g. lines 124, 178, 193, 220,
252, 290, 1125). Another word the spelling of which in Paradise Lost
will be observed to vary is the pronoun their, which is spelt sometimes
thir. The spelling in the Cambridge manuscript is uniformly thire,
except once when it is thir; and where their once occurs in the writing
of an amanuensis the e is struck through. That the difference is not
merely a printer's device to accommodate his line may be seen by a
comparison of lines 358 and 363 in the First Book, where the shorter
word comes in the shorter line. It is probable that the lighter form
of the word was intended to be used when it was quite unemphatic.
Contrast, for example, in Book iii. l.59: His own works and their works
at once to view with line 113: Thir maker and thir making and thir Fate.
But the use is not consistent, and the form thir is not found at all
till the 349th line of the First Book. The distinction is kept up in
the Paradise Regain'd and Samson Agonistes, but, if possible, with even
less consistency. Such passages, however, as Paradise Regain'd, iii.
414-440; Samson Agonistes, 880-890, are certainly spelt upon a method,
and it is noticeable that in the choruses the lighter form is universal.
Paradise Regain'd and Samson Agonistes were published in 1671, and no
further edition was called for in the remaining three years of the
poet's lifetime, so that in the case of these poems there are no new
readings to record; and the texts were so carefully revised, that only
one fault (Paradise Regain'd, ii. 309) was left for correction later.
In these and the other poems I have corrected the misprints catalogued
in the tables of Errata, and I have silently corrected any other unless
it might be mistaken for a various reading, when I have called attention
to it in a note. Thus I have not recorded such blunders as Lethian for
Lesbian in the 1645 text of Lycidas, line 63; or hallow for hollow in
Paradise Lost, vi. 484; but I have noted content for concent, in At a
Solemn Musick, line 6.
In conclusion I have to offer my sincere thanks to all who have
collaborated with me in preparing this Edition; to the Delegates of the
Oxford Press for allowing me to undertake it and decorate it with so
many facsimiles; to the Controller of the Press for his unfailing
courtesy; to the printers and printer's reader for their care and pains.
Coming nearer home I cannot but acknowledge the help I have received in
looking over proof-sheets from my sister, Mrs. P. A. Barnett, who has
ungrudgingly put at the service of this book both time and eyesight. In
taking leave of it, I may be permitted to say that it has cost more of
both these inestimable treasures than I had anticipated. The last proof
reaches me just a year after the first, and the progress of the work has
not in the interval been interrupted. In tenui labor et tenuis gloria.
Nevertheless I cannot be sorry it was undertaken.
H. C. B.
YATTENDON RECTORY,
November 8, 1899.
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of 1645 edition
follows:
POEMS
OF
Mr John Milton,
BOTH
ENGLISH and LATIN
Compos'd at several times.
------------------------------
Printed by his true copies.
------------------------------
The SONGS were set in Musick by
Mr. HENRY LAWES Gentleman of
the KINGS Chappel, and one
of His MAIESTIES
Private Musick.
--------Baccare frontem
Cingite, ne vace noceat mala lingua futuro,
Virgil, Eclog. 7.
-----------------------------------------
Printed, and Publish'd according to
ORDER.
-----------------------------------------
LONDON,
Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley,
and are to be sold at the signe of the Princes
Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard. 1645.
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of 1673 edition
follows:
POEMS, &c.
UPON
Several Occasions.
--------------------------
BY
Mr. John Milton:
--------------------------
Both ENGLISH and LATIN &c.
Composed at several times.
--------------------------
With a small tractate of
EDUCATION
To Mr. HARTLIB
--------------------------
--------------------------
LONDON.
Printed for Tho. Dring at the Blew Anchor
next Mitre Court over against Fetter
Lane in Fleet-street. 1673.
THE STATIONER TO THE READER.
It is not any Private respect of gain, Gentle Reader, for the slightest
Pamphlet is now adayes more vendible then the Works of learnedest men;
but it is the love I have to our own Language that hath made me diligent
to collect, and set forth such Peeces in Prose and Vers as may renew the
wonted honour and esteem of our tongue: and it's the worth of these both
English and Latin poems, not the flourish of any prefixed encomions that
can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest
Commendations and Applause of the learnedst Academicks, both domestic
and forrein: And amongst those of our own Countrey, the unparalleled
attestation of that renowned Provost of Eaton, Sir Henry Wootton: I know
not thy palat how it relishes such dainties, nor how harmonious thy
soul is; perhaps more trivial Airs may please thee better. But
howsoever thy opinion is spent upon these, that incouragement I have
already received from the most ingenious men in their clear and
courteous entertainment of Mr. Wallers late choice Peeces, hath once
more made me adventure into the World, presenting it with these
ever-green, and not to be blasted Laurels. The Authors more peculiar
excellency in these studies, was too well known to conceal his Papers,
or to keep me from attempting to sollicit them from him. Let the event
guide it self which way it will, I shall deserve of the age, by bringing
into the Light as true a Birth, as the Muses have brought forth since
our famous Spencer wrote; whose Poems in these English ones are as
rarely imitated, as sweetly excell'd. Reader, if thou art Eagle-eied to
censure their worth, I am not fearful to expose them to thy exactest
perusal.
Thine to Command
HUMPH. MOSELEY.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
ON THE MORNING OF CHRISTS NATIVITY.
Compos'd 1629.
I
This is the Month, and this the happy morn
Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
For so the holy sages once did sing,
That he our deadly forfeit should release,
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
II
That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable,
And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty,
Wherwith he wont at Heav'ns high Councel-Table, 10
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
He laid aside; and here with us to be,
Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day,
And chose with us a darksom House of mortal Clay.
III
Say Heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein,
To welcom him to this his new abode,
Now while the Heav'n by the Suns team untrod,
Hath took no print of the approching light, 20
And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
IV
See how from far upon the Eastern rode
The Star-led Wisards haste with odours sweet,
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
Have thou the honour first, thy Lord to greet,
And joyn thy voice unto the Angel Quire,
From out his secret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
The Hymn.
I
IT was the Winter wilde,
While the Heav'n-born-childe, 30
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature in aw to him
Had doff't her gawdy trim,
With her great Master so to sympathize:
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.
II
Only with speeches fair
She woo'd the gentle Air
To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow,
And on her naked shame, 40
Pollute with sinfull blame,
The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw,
Confounded, that her Makers eyes
Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
III
But he her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyd Peace,
She crown'd with Olive green, came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphear
His ready Harbinger,
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, 50
And waving wide her mirtle wand,
She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land.
IV
No War, or Battails sound
Was heard the World around,
The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
The hooked Chariot stood
Unstain'd with hostile blood,
The Trumpet spake not to the armed throng,
And Kings sate still with awfull eye,
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 60
V
But peacefull was the night
Wherin the Prince of light
His raign of peace upon the earth began:
The Windes with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,
Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
VI
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fit in steadfast gaze, 70
Bending one way their pretious influence,
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;
But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
VII
And though the shady gloom
Had given day her room,
The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed,
And hid his head for shame, 80
As his inferior flame,
The new enlightened world no more should need;
He saw a greater Sun appear
Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.
VIII
The Shepherds on the Lawn,
Or ere the point of dawn,
Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;
Full little thought they than,
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly com to live with them below; 90
Perhaps their loves, or els their sheep,
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep.
IX
When such Musick sweet
Their hearts and ears did greet,
As never was by mortal finger strook,
Divinely-warbled voice
Answering the stringed noise,
As all their souls in blisfull rapture took:
The Air such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close. 100
X
Nature that heard such sound
Beneath the hollow round
of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling,
Now was almost won
To think her part was don
And that her raign had here its last fulfilling;
She knew such harmony alone
Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
XI
At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light, 110
That with long beams the shame faced night arrayed
The helmed Cherubim
And sworded Seraphim,
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid,
Harping in loud and solemn quire,
With unexpressive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.
XII
Such Musick (as 'tis said)
Before was never made,
But when of old the sons of morning sung,
While the Creator Great
His constellations set, 120
And the well-ballanc't world on hinges hung,
And cast the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
XIII
Ring out ye Crystall sphears,
Once bless our human ears,
(If ye have power to touch our senses so)
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time;
And let the Base of Heav'ns deep Organ blow, 130
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to th'Angelike symphony.
XIV
For if such holy Song
Enwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,
And speckl'd vanity
Will sicken soon and die,
And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould,
And Hell it self will pass away
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 140
XV
Yea Truth, and Justice then
Will down return to men,
Th'enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing,
And Mercy set between
Thron'd in Celestiall sheen,
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing,
And Heav'n as at som festivall,
Will open wide the gates of her high Palace Hall.
XVI
But wisest Fate sayes no,
This must not yet be so, 150
The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy,
That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss;
So both himself and us to glorifie:
Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep,
The Wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep,
XVII
With such a horrid clang
As on Mount Sinai rang
While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake:
The aged Earth agast 160
With terrour of that blast,
Shall from the surface to the center shake;
When at the worlds last session,
The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.
XVIII
And then at last our bliss
Full and perfect is,
But now begins; for from this happy day
Th'old Dragon under ground
In straiter limits bound,
Not half so far casts his usurped sway, 170
And wrath to see his Kingdom fail,
Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.
XIX
The Oracles are dumm,
No voice or hideous humm
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
Inspire's the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell. 180
XX
The lonely mountains o're,
And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
From haunted spring, and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale
The parting Genius is with sighing sent,
With flowre-inwov'n tresses torn
The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
XXI
In consecrated Earth,
And on the holy Hearth, 190
The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint,
In Urns, and Altars round,
A drear, and dying sound
Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint;
And the chill Marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.
XXII
Peor, and Baalim,
Forsake their Temples dim,
With that twise-batter'd god of Palestine,
And mooned Ashtaroth, 200
Heav'ns Queen and Mother both,
Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine,
The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,
In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.
XXIII
And sullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in shadows dred,
His burning Idol all of blackest hue,
In vain with Cymbals ring,
They call the grisly king,
In dismall dance about the furnace Blue; 210
And Brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis hast.
XXIV
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green,
Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud;
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest,
Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud:
In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
XXV
He feels from Juda's land
The dreaded Infant's hand,
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Nor all the gods beside
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew.
XXVI
So when the Sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to th'infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave,
And the yellow-skirted fays
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
XXVII
But see, the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest:
Time is our tedious song should here have ending.
Heav'n's youngest-teemed star,
Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
And all about the courtly stable,
Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
THE PASSION.
I
ERE-while of Musick, and Ethereal mirth,
Wherwith the stage of Ayr and Earth did ring,
And joyous news of heav'nly Infants birth,
My muse with Angels did divide to sing;
But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In Wintry solstice like the shortn'd light
Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.
II
For now to sorrow must I tune my song,
And set my Harpe to notes of saddest wo,
Which on our dearest Lord did sease er'e long,
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse then so, 10
Which he for us did freely undergo.
Most perfect Heroe, try'd in heaviest plight
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight.
III
He sov'ran Priest stooping his regall head
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor fleshly Tabernacle entered,
His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies;
O what a Mask was there, what a disguise!
Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide, 20
Then lies him meekly down fast by his Brethrens side.
IV
These latter scenes confine my roving vers,
To this Horizon is my Phoebus bound,
His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,
And former sufferings other where are found;
Loud o're the rest Cremona's Trump doth sound;
Me softer airs befit, and softer strings
Of Lute, or Viol still, more apt for mournful things.
Note: 22 latter] latest 1673.
V
Befriend me night best Patroness of grief,
Over the Pole thy thickest mantle throw, 30
And work my flatterd fancy to belief,
That Heav'n and Earth are colour'd with my wo;
My sorrows are too dark for day to know:
The leaves should all be black wheron I write,
And letters where my tears have washt a wannish white.
VI
See see the Chariot, and those rushing wheels,
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood,
My spirit som transporting Cherub feels,
To bear me where the Towers of Salem stood,
Once glorious Towers, now sunk in guiltles blood; 40
There doth my soul in holy vision sit
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatick fit.
VII
Mine eye hath found that sad Sepulchral rock
That was the Casket of Heav'ns richest store,
And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock,
Yet on the softned Quarry would I score
My plaining vers as lively as before;
For sure so well instructed are my tears,
They would fitly fall in order'd Characters.
VIII
I thence hurried on viewles wing, 50
Take up a weeping on the Mountains wilde,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would soon unboosom all their Echoes milde,
And I (for grief is easily beguild)
Might think th'infection of my sorrows bound,
Had got a race of mourners on som pregnant cloud.
Note: This subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had,
when he wrote it, and nothing satisfi'd with what was begun,
left it unfinish'd.
ON TIME.
FLY envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And meerly mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, 10
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
About the supreme Throne
Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime,
Then all this Earthy grosnes quit, 20
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.
Note: See the appendix for the manuscript version.
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright,
That erst with Musick, and triumphant song
First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear,
So sweetly sung your Joy the Clouds along
Through the soft silence of the list'ning night;
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery essence can distill no tear,
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow,
He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whileare 10
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how soon our sin
Sore doth begin
His Infancy to sease!
O more exceeding love or law more just?
Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightfull doom remediles
Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakednes; 20
And that great Cov'nant which we still transgress
Intirely satisfi'd,
And the full wrath beside
Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess,
And seals obedience first with wounding smart
This day, but O ere long
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more neer his heart.
AT A SOLEMN MUSICK.
BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy,
Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantasie present,
That undisturbed Song of pure content,
Ay sung before the saphire-colour'd throne
To him that sits theron
With Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 10
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the Cherubick host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devout and holy Psalms
Singing everlastingly;
That we on Earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin
Jarr'd against natures chime, and with harsh din 20
The fair musick that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd
In perfect Diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that Song,
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long
To his celestial consort us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endles morn of light.
Note: 6 content] Manuscript reads concent as does the Second
Edition; so that content is probably a misprint.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.
THIS rich Marble doth enterr
The honour'd Wife of Winchester,
A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,
Besides what her vertues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More then she could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told, alas too soon,
After so short time of breath,
To house with darknes, and with death. 10
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her request
The God that sits at marriage feast;
He at their invoking came
But with a scarce-wel-lighted flame; 20
And in his Garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a Cipress bud.
Once had the early Matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;
But whether by mischance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorsles cruelty,
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree: 30
The haples Babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languisht Mothers Womb
Was not long a living Tomb.
So have I seen som tender slip
Sav'd with care from Winters nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck't up by som unheedy swain,
Who onely thought to crop the flowr
New shot up from vernall showr; 40
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And those Pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hast'ning funerall.
Gentle Lady may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travail sore
Sweet rest sease thee evermore, 50
That to give the world encrease,
Shortned hast thy own lives lease;
Here besides the sorrowing
That thy noble House doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And som Flowers, and som Bays,
For thy Hears to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name; 60
Whilst thou bright Saint high sit'st in glory,
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian Shepherdess,
Who after yeers of barrennes,
The highly favour'd Joseph bore
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the boosom bright
of blazing Majesty and Light, 70
There with thee, new welcom Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.
SONG ON MAY MORNING.
Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and wish thee long. 10
ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630.
WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thy self a live-long Monument.
For whilst to th'shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart 10
Hath from the Leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie,
That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.
Notes: On Shakespear. Reprinted 1632 in the second folio
Shakespeare:
Title] An epitaph on the admirable dramaticke poet W.
Shakespeare
1 needs] neede
6 weak] dull
8 live-long] lasting
10 heart] part
13 it] her
ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER WHO SICKN'D IN THE TIME OF HIS
VACANCY, BEING FORBID TO GO TO LONDON, BY REASON OF THE
PLAGUE.
HERE lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt,
And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten yeers full,
Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And surely, Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly cours of carriage fail'd; 10
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journeys end was come,
And that he had tane up his latest Inne,
In the kind office of a Chamberlin
Shew'd him his room where he must lodge that night,
Pull'd off his Boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it shall be sed,
Hobson has supt, and 's newly gon to bed.
ANOTHER ON THE SAME.
HERE lieth one who did most truly prove,
That he could never die while he could move,
So hung his destiny never to rot
While he might still jogg on, and keep his trot,
Made of sphear-metal, never to decay
Untill his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an Engin mov'd with wheel and waight,
His principles being ceast, he ended strait. 10
Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation hastned on his term.
Meerly to drive the time away he sickn'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I may not carry, sure Ile ne're be fetch'd,
But vow though the cross Doctors all stood hearers,
For one Carrier put down to make six bearers. 20
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He di'd for heavines that his Cart went light,
His leasure told him that his time was com,
And lack of load, made his life burdensom
That even to his last breath (ther be that say't)
As he were prest to death, he cry'd more waight;
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had bin an immortall Carrier.
Obedient to the Moon he spent his date
In cours reciprocal, and had his fate 30
Linkt to the mutual flowing of the Seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His Letters are deliver'd all and gon,
Onely remains this superscription.
L'ALLEGRO.
HENCE loathed Melancholy
Of Cerberus, and blackest midnight born,
In Stygian Cave forlorn
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shreiks, and sights unholy,
Find out som uncouth cell,
Where brooding darknes spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-Raven sings;
There under Ebon shades and low-brow'd Rocks,
As ragged as thy Locks,
In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 10
But com thou Goddes fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrosyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more
To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as som Sager sing)
The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring,
Zephir with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying, 20
There on Beds of Violets blew,
And fresh-blown Roses washt in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So bucksom, blith, and debonair.
Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods, and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek; 30
Sport that wrincled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Com, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantastick toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crue
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free; 40
To hear the Lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-towre in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to com in spight of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine,
Or the twisted Eglantine.
While the Cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darknes thin, 50
And to the stack, or the Barn dore,
Stoutly struts his Dames before,
Oft list'ning how the Hounds and horn
Chearly rouse the slumbring morn,
From the side of som Hoar Hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill.
Som time walking not unseen
By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green,
Right against the Eastern gate,
Wher the great Sun begins his state, 60
Rob'd in flames, and Amber light,
The clouds in thousand Liveries dight.
While the Plowman neer at hand,
Whistles ore the Furrow'd Land,
And the Milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the Mower whets his sithe,
And every Shepherd tells his tale
Under the Hawthorn in the dale.
Streit mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the Lantskip round it measures, 70
Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray,
Where the nibling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren brest
The labouring clouds do often rest:
Meadows trim with Daisies pide,
Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.
Towers, and Battlements it sees
Boosom'd high in tufted Trees,
Wher perhaps som beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 80
Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged Okes,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,
Are at their savory dinner set
Of Hearbs, and other Country Messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;
And then in haste her Bowre she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind the Sheaves;
Or if the earlier season lead
To the tann'd Haycock in the Mead, 90
Som times with secure delight
The up-land Hamlets will invite,
When the merry Bells ring round,
And the jocond rebecks sound
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the Chequer'd shade;
And young and old com forth to play
On a Sunshine Holyday,
Till the live-long day-light fail,
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale, 100
With stories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat,
She was pincht, and pull'd she sed,
And he by Friars Lanthorn led
Tells how the drudging Goblin swet,
To ern his Cream-bowle duly set,
When in one night, ere glimps of morn,
His shadowy Flale hath thresh'd the Corn
That ten day-labourers could not end,
Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend. 110
And stretch'd out all the Chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
And Crop-full out of dores he flings,
Ere the first Cock his Mattin rings.
Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering Windes soon lull'd asleep.
Towred Cities please us then,
And the busie humm of men,
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold, 120
With store of Ladies, whose bright eies
Rain influence, and judge the prise
Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
To win her Grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask, and antique Pageantry,
Such sights as youthfull Poets dream
On Summer eeves by haunted stream. 130
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonsons learned Sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespear fancies childe,
Warble his native Wood-notes wilde,
And ever against eating Cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian Aires,
Married to immortal verse
Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of lincked sweetnes long drawn out, 140
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwisting all the chains that ty
The hidden soul of harmony.
That Orpheus self may heave his head
From golden slumber on a bed
Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear
Such streins as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half regain'd Eurydice. 150
These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth with thee, I mean to live.
Notes:
33 Ye] You 1673
104 And he by] And by the 1673
IL PENSEROSO.
Hence vain deluding joyes,
The brood of folly without father bred,
How little you bested,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes;
Dwell in som idle brain
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams,
Or likest hovering dreams
The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train. 10
But hail thou Goddess, sage and holy,
Hail divinest Melancholy
Whose Saintly visage is too bright
To hit the Sense of human sight;
And therefore to our weaker view,
Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue.
Black, but such as in esteem,
Prince Memnons sister might beseem,
Or that Starr'd Ethiope Queen that strove
To set her beauties praise above 20
The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended.
Yet thou art higher far descended,
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore,
To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she (in Saturns raign,
Such mixture was not held a stain)
Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove. 30
Com pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestick train,
And sable stole of Cipres Lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Com, but keep thy wonted state,
With eev'n step, and musing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: 40
There held in holy passion still,
Forget thy self to Marble, till
With a sad Leaden downward cast,
Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring,
Ay round about Joves Altar sing.
And adde to these retired Leasure,
That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure; 50
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring,
Him that yon soars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The Cherub Contemplation,
And the mute Silence hist along,
'Less Philomel will daign a Song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke,
Gently o're th'accustom'd Oke; 60
Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly
Most musical!, most melancholy!
Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among
I woo to hear thy eeven-Song;
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven Green,
To behold the wandring Moon,
Riding neer her highest noon,
Like one that had bin led astray
Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way; 70
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a Plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off Curfeu sound,
Over som wide-water'd shoar,
Swinging slow with sullen roar;
Or if the Ayr will not permit,
Som still removed place will fit,
Where glowing Embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom 80
Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the Cricket on the hearth,
Or the Belmans drowsie charm,
To bless the dores from nightly harm:
Or let my Lamp at midnight hour,
Be seen in som high lonely Towr,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear
The spirit of Plato to unfold
What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold 90
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook:
And of those Daemons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true consent
With planet or with Element.
Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy
In Scepter'd Pall com sweeping by,
Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line,
Or the tale of Troy divine. 100
Or what (though rare) of later age,
Ennobled hath the Buskind stage.
But, O sad Virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musaeus from his bower,
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as warbled to the string,
Drew Iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
Or call up him that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold, 110
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the vertuous Ring and Glass,
And of the wondrous Hors of Brass,
On which the Tartar King did ride;
And if ought els, great Bards beside,
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of Turneys and of Trophies hung;
Of Forests, and inchantments drear,
Where more is meant then meets the ear. 120
Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,
Till civil-suited Morn appeer,
Not trickt and frounc't as she was wont,
With the Attick Boy to hunt,
But Cherchef't in a comly Cloud,
While rocking Winds are Piping loud,
Or usher'd with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the russling Leaves,
With minute drops from off the Eaves. 130
And when the Sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me Goddes bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves
Of Pine, or monumental Oake,
Where the rude Ax with heaved stroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in close covert by som Brook,
Where no profaner eye may look, 140
Hide me from Day's garish eie,
While the Bee with Honied thie,
That at her flowry work doth sing,
And the Waters murmuring
With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
And let som strange mysterious dream,
Wave at his Wings in Airy stream,
Of lively portrature display'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid. 150
And as I wake, sweet musick breath
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by som spirit to mortals good,
Or th'unseen Genius of the Wood.
But let my due feet never fail,
To walk the studious Cloysters pale,
And love the high embowed Roof
With antick Pillars massy proof,
And storied Windows richly dight,
Casting a dimm religious light. 160
There let the pealing Organ blow,
To the full voic'd Quire below,
In Service high, and Anthems cleer,
As may with sweetnes, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into extasies,
And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peacefull hermitage,
The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell 170
Of every Star that Heav'n doth shew,
And every Herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To somthing like prophetic strain.
These pleasures Melancholy give,
And I with thee will choose to live.
SONNETS.
I
O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May,
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day,
First heard before the shallow Cuccoo's bill
Portend success in love; O if Jove's will
Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate
Foretell my hopeles doom in som Grove ny: 10
As thou from yeer to yeer hast sung too late
For my relief; yet hadst no reason why,
Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
II
Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Ben e colui d'ogni valore scarco
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
De suoi atti soavi giamai parco,
E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco,
La onde l' alta tua virtu s'infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, O lieta canti
Che mover possa duro alpestre legno, 10
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi ed a gli orecchi
L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti
Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.
III
Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno 10
Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso
Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.
Canzone.
Ridonsi donne e giovani amorosi
M' occostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi,
Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana
Verseggiando d'amor, e come t'osi?
Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana
E de pensieri lo miglior t' arrivi;
Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi
Altri lidi t' aspettan, & altre onde
Nelle cui verdi sponde
Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma 10
L'immortal guiderdon d 'eterne frondi
Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma?
Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi
Dice mia Donna, e'l suo dir, e il mio cuore
Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.
IV
Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia,
Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea
Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia.
Ne treccie d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia
M' abbaglian si, ma sotto nova idea
Pellegrina bellezza che'l cuor bea,
Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia
Quel sereno fulgor d' amabil nero,
Parole adorne di lingua piu d'una, 10
E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemispero
Traviar ben puo la faticosa Luna,
E degil occhi suoi auventa si gran fuoco
Che l 'incerar gli oreechi mi fia poco.
V
Per certo i bei vostr'occhi Donna mia
Esser non puo che non fian lo mio sole
Si mi percuoton forte, come ci suole
Per l'arene di Libia chi s'invia,
Mentre un caldo vapor (ne senti pria)
Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole,
Che forsi amanti nelle lor parole
Chiaman sospir; io non so che si sia:
Parte rinchiusa, e turbida si cela
Scosso mi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco 10
Quivi d' attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingiela;
Ma quanto a gli occhi giunge a trovar loco
Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose
Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose.
VI
Giovane piano, e semplicetto amante
Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono,
Madonna a voi del mio cuor l'humil dono
Faro divoto; io certo a prove tante
L'hebbi fedele, intrepido, costante,
De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono;
Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono,
S 'arma di se, e d' intero diamante,
Tanto del forse, e d' invidia sicuro,
Di timori, e speranze al popol use 10
Quanto d'ingegno, e d' alto valor vago,
E di cetra sonora, e delle muse:
Sol troverete in tal parte men duro
Ove amor mise l 'insanabil ago.
VII
How soon hath Time the suttle theef of youth,
Stoln on his wing my three and twentith yeer!
My hasting dayes flie on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th,
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arriv'd so near,
And inward ripenes doth much less appear,
That som more timely-happy spirits indu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow.
It shall be still in strictest measure eev'n, 10
To that same lot, however mean, or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav'n;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great task Masters eye.
VIII
Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless dores may sease,
If ever deed of honour did thee please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms,
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
That call Fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spred thy Name o're Lands and Seas,
What ever clime the Suns bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses Bowre,
The great Emathian Conqueror bid spare 10
The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Towre
Went to the ground: And the repeated air
Of sad Electra's Poet had the power
To save th' Athenian Walls from ruine bare.
Notes:
Camb. autograph supplies title, When the assault was intended
to the city.
3 If deed of honour did thee ever please, 1673.
IX
Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
Wisely hath shun'd the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour up the Hill of heav'nly Truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth,
Chosen thou hast, and they that overween,
And at thy growing vertues fret their spleen,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
Thy care is fixt and zealously attends
To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light,
And Hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure
Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastfull friends
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure.
Note: 5 with Ruth] the Ruth 1645.
X
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury,
Who liv'd in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,
Till the sad breaking of that Parlament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chaeronea, fatal to liberty
Kil'd with report that Old man eloquent,
Though later born, then to have known the dayes
Wherin your Father flourisht, yet by you 10
Madam, me thinks I see him living yet;
So well your words his noble vertues praise,
That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to possess them, Honour'd Margaret.
Note: Camb. autograph supplies title, To the Lady Margaret
Ley.
ARCADES.
Part of an entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of
Darby at Harefield, by som Noble persons of her Family, who
appear on the Scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat
of State with this Song.
I. SONG.
LOOK Nymphs, and Shepherds look,
What sudden blaze of majesty
Is that which we from hence descry
Too divine to be mistook:
This this is she
To whom our vows and wishes bend,
Heer our solemn search hath end.
Fame that her high worth to raise,
Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse,
We may justly now accuse 10
Of detraction from her praise,
Less then half we find exprest,
Envy bid conceal the rest.
Mark what radiant state she spreds,
In circle round her shining throne,
Shooting her beams like silver threds,
This this is she alone,
Sitting like a Goddes bright,
In the center of her light.
Might she the wise Latona be, 20
Or the towred Cybele,
Mother of a hunderd gods;
Juno dare's not give her odds;
Who had thought this clime had held
A deity so unparalel'd?
As they com forward, the genius of the Wood appears, and
turning toward them, speaks.
GEN. Stay gentle Swains, for though in this disguise,
I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes,
Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung
Of that renowned flood, so often sung,
Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluse, 30
Stole under Seas to meet his Arethuse;
And ye the breathing Roses of the Wood,
Fair silver-buskind Nymphs as great and good,
I know this quest of yours, and free intent
Was all in honour and devotion ment
To the great Mistres of yon princely shrine,
Whom with low reverence I adore as mine,
And with all helpful service will comply
To further this nights glad solemnity;
And lead ye where ye may more neer behold 40
What shallow-searching Fame hath left untold;
Which I full oft amidst these shades alone
Have sate to wonder at, and gaze upon:
For know by lot from Jove I am the powr
Of this fair wood, and live in Oak'n bowr,
To nurse the Saplings tall, and curl the grove
With Ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
And all my Plants I save from nightly ill,
Of noisom winds, and blasting vapours chill.
And from the Boughs brush off the evil dew, 50
And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blew,
Or what the cross dire-looking Planet smites,
Or hurtfull Worm with canker'd venom bites.
When Eev'ning gray doth rise, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground,
And early ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the slumbring leaves, or tasseld horn
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
With puissant words, and murmurs made to bless, 60
But els in deep of night when drowsines
Hath lockt up mortal sense, then listen I
To the celestial Sirens harmony,
That sit upon the nine enfolded Sphears,
And sing to those that hold the vital shears,
And turn the Adamantine spindle round,
On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such sweet compulsion doth in musick ly,
To lull the daughters of Necessity,
And keep unsteddy Nature to her law, 70
And the low world in measur'd motion draw
After the heavenly tune, which none can hear
Of human mould with grosse unpurged ear;
And yet such musick worthiest were to blaze
The peerles height of her immortal praise,
Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable sounds, yet as we go,
What ere the skill of lesser gods can show,
I will assay, her worth to celebrate, 80
And so attend ye toward her glittering state;
Where ye may all that are of noble stemm
Approach, and kiss her sacred vestures hemm.
2. SONG.
O're the smooth enameld green
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I sing,
And touch the warbled string.
Under the shady roof
Of branching Elm Star-proof,
Follow me, 90
I will bring you where she sits
Clad in splendor as befits
Her deity.
Such a rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
3. SONG.
Nymphs and Shepherds dance no more
By sandy Ladons Lillied banks.
On old Lycaeus or Cyllene hoar,
Trip no more in twilight ranks,
Though Erynanth your loss deplore, 100
A better soyl shall give ye thanks.
From the stony Maenalus,
Bring your Flocks, and live with us,
Here ye shall have greater grace,
To serve the Lady of this place.
Though Syrinx your Pans Mistres were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.
Such a rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
Note: 22 hunderd] Milton's own spelling here is hundred. But in
the Errata to Paradise Lost (i. 760) he corrects hundred to hunderd.
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of Lycidas follows:
JUSTA
EDOVARDO KING
naufrago,
ab
Amicis Moerentibus,
amoris
&
mneias chaein
------------------------------------------------------------
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Sirecte calculam ponas, ubique naufragium est.
Pet. Arb.
------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------
CANTABRIGIAE:
Apud Thomam Buck, & Rogerum Daniel, celeberrimae
Academiae typographos. 1638.
LYCIDAS.
In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend,
unfortunatly drown'd in his Passage from Chester on the Irish
Seas, 1637. And by occasion foretels the ruine of our
corrupted Clergy then in their height.
YET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,
I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude,
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 10
He must not flote upon his watry bear
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of som melodious tear.
Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring,
Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
So may som gentle Muse
With lucky words favour my destin'd Urn, 20
And as he passes turn,
And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd.
For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill.
Together both, ere the high Lawns appear'd
Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
We drove a field and both together heard
What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev'ning, bright 30
Toward Heav'ns descent had slop'd his westering wheel.
Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,
Temper'd to th'Oaten Flute;
Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel,
From the glad sound would not be absent long,
And old Damoetas lov'd to hear our song.
But O the heavy change, now thou art gon,
Now thou art gon, and never must return!
Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves,
With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o'regrown, 40
And all their echoes mourn.
The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,
Shall now no more be seen,
Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes.
As killing as the Canker to the Rose,
Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze,
Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,
When first the White thorn blows;
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear.
Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep 50
Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep,
Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly,
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream:
Ay me, I fondly dream!
Had ye bin there--for what could that have don?
What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore,
The Muse her self, for her inchanting son
Whom Universal nature did lament, 60
When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His goary visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore.
Alas! What boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade,
And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,
Were it not better don as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 70
(That last infirmity of Noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes:
But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze.
Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears,
And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,
Phoebus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears;
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies, 80
But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfet witnes of all judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed.
O Fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd floud,
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocall reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my Oate proceeds,
And listens to the Herald of the Sea
That came in Neptune's plea, 90
He ask'd the Waves, and ask'd the Fellon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?
And question'd every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked Promontory,
They knew not of his story,
And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd,
The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine,
Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.
It was that fatall and perfidious Bark 100
Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.
Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow,
His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.
Ah; Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
Last came, and last did go,
The Pilot of the Galilean lake,
Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain, 110
(The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)
He shook his Miter'd locks, and stern bespake,
How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,
Anow of such as for their bellies sake,
Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reck'ning make,
Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least 120
That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,
But that two-handed engine at the door, 130
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
That shrunk thy streams; Return Sicilian Muse,
And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast
Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use,
Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,
That on the green terf suck the honied showres, 140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowres.
Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.
The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine,
The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,
The glowing Violet.
The Musk-rose, and the well attir'd Woodbine.
With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150
And strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies.
For so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
Ah me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas
Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurl'd
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides.
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160
Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth.
Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar,
So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore, 170
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves
Where other groves, and other streams along,
With Nectar pure his oozy Lock's he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song,
In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet Societies
That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more;
Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th'Okes and rills,
While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,
He touch'd the tender stops of various Quills,
With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay:
And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the Western bay;
At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantle blew:
To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.
Notes:
64 uncessant] Manuscript reads incessant, so that uncessant
is probably a misprint; though that spelling is retained in the Second
Edition.
82 perfet] So in Comus, line 203. In both these places
the manuscript has perfect, as elsewhere where the word occurs. In
the Solemn Music, line 23, where the First Edition reads perfect,
the second reads perfet.
149 Amaranthus] Amarantus
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of Comus follows:
A MASKE
PRESENTED
At Ludlow Castle,
1634:
On Michalemasse night, before the
RIGHT HONORABLE,
IOHN Earle of Bridgewater, Viscount Brackly,
Lord President of WALES, and one of
His MAIESTIES most honorable
Privie Counsell.
------------------------------------------------------------
Eheu quid volui misero mihi! floribus austrum
Perditus ------------------
------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON
Printed for HYMPHREY ROBINSON
at the signe of the Three Pidgeons in
Pauls Church-yard. 1637.
To the Right Honourable, John Lord Vicount Bracly, Son and
Heir apparent to the Earl of Bridgewater, &c.
My LORD,
This Poem, which receiv'd its first occasion of Birth from your
Self, and others of your Noble Family, and much honour from
your own Person in the performance, now returns again to
make a finall Dedication of it self to you. Although not openly
acknowledg'd by the Author, yet it is a legitimate off-spring, so
lovely, and so much desired, that the often Copying of it hath
tired my Pen to give my several friends satisfaction, and brought
me to a necessity of producing it to the publike view; and now
to offer it up in all rightfull devotion to those fair Hopes, and
rare endowments of your much-promising Youth, which give a
full assurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live
sweet Lord to be the honour of your Name, and receive this as
your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favours
been long oblig'd to your most honour'd Parents, and as in this
representation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall
expression
Your faithfull, and most humble Servant
H. LAWES.
Note: Dedication to Vicount Bracly: Omitted in 1673.
The Copy of a Letter writt'n by Sir HENRY WOOTTON, to
the Author, upon the following Poem.
From the Colledge, this 13. of April, 1638.
SIR,
It was a special favour, when you lately bestowed upon me
here, the first taste of your acquaintance, though no longer then
to make me know that I wanted more time to value it, and to
enjoy it rightly; and in truth, if I could then have imagined your
farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterwards by
Mr. H. I would have been bold in our vulgar phrase to mend my
draught (for you left me with an extreme thirst) and to have
begged your conversation again, joyntly with your said learned
Friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might have banded
together som good Authors of the antient time: Among which, I
observed you to have been familiar.
Since your going, you have charg'd me with new Obligations,
both for a very kinde Letter from you dated the sixth of this
Month, and for a dainty peece of entertainment which came
therwith. Wherin I should much commend the Tragical part, if
the Lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in
your Songs and Odes, wherunto I must plainly confess to have
seen yet nothing parallel in our Language: Ipsa mollities.
But I must not omit to tell you, that I now onely owe you
thanks for intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true
Artificer. For the work it self I had view'd som good while
before, with singular delight, having receiv'd it from our
common Friend Mr. R. in the very close of the late R's Poems,
Printed at Oxford, wherunto it was added (as I now suppose)
that the Accessory might help out the Principal, according to
the Art of Stationers, and to leave the Reader Con la bocca
dolce.
Now Sir, concerning your travels, wherin I may challenge a
little more priviledge of Discours with you; I suppose you will
not blanch Paris in your way; therfore I have been bold to
trouble you with a few lines to Mr. M. B. whom you shall easily
find attending the young Lord S. as his Governour, and you
may surely receive from him good directions for the shaping of
your farther journey into Italy, where he did reside by my choice
som time for the King, after mine own recess from Venice.
I should think that your best Line will be thorow the whole
length of France to Marseilles, and thence by Sea to Genoa,
whence the passage into Tuscany is as Diurnal as a Gravesend
Barge: I hasten as you do to Florence, or Siena, the rather to tell
you a short story from the interest you have given me in your
safety.
At Siena I was tabled in the House of one Alberto Scipioni, an
old Roman Courtier in dangerous times, having bin Steward to
the Duca di Pagliano, who with all his Family were strangled
save this onely man that escap'd by foresight of the Tempest:
With him I had often much chat of those affairs; Into which he
took pleasure to look back from his Native Harbour: and at my
departure toward Rome (which had been the center of his
experience) I had wonn confidence enough to beg his advice,
how I might carry my self securely there, without offence of
mine own conscience. Signor Arrigo mio (sayes he) I pensieri
stretti, & il viso sciolto, will go safely over the whole World: Of
which Delphian Oracle (for so I have found it) your judgement
doth need no commentary; and therfore (Sir) I will commit you
with it to the best of all securities, Gods dear love, remaining
Your Friend as much at command as any of longer date,
Henry Wootton.
Postscript.
SIR, I have expressly sent this my Foot-boy to prevent your
departure without som acknowledgement from me of the
receipt of your obliging Letter, having myself through som
busines, I know not how, neglected the ordinary conveyance.
In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad,
and diligent to entertain you with Home-Novelties; even for
som fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the
Cradle.
Note: Letter from Sir Henry Wootton: Omitted in 1673
A MASK PRESENTED At LUDLOW-Castle, 1634. &c.
The Persons.
The attendant Spirit afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis.
Comus with his crew.
The Lady.
1. Brother.
2. Brother.
Sabrina the Nymph.
The cheif persons which presented, were
The Lord Bracly.
Mr. Thomas Egerton his Brother,
The Lady Alice Egerton.
The first Scene discovers a wilde Wood.
The attendant Spirit descends or enters.
Spir: Before the starry threshold of Joves Court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
Of bright aereal Spirits live insphear'd
In Regions milde of calm and serene Ayr,
Above the smoak and stirr of this dim spot,
Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care
Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here,
Strive to keep up a frail, and Feaverish being
Unmindfull of the crown that Vertue gives
After this mortal change, to her true Servants 10
Amongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that Golden Key
That ope's the Palace of Eternity:
To such my errand is, and but for such,
I would not soil these pure Ambrosial weeds,
With the rank vapours of this Sin-worn mould.
But to my task. Neptune besides the sway
Of every salt Flood, and each ebbing Stream,
Took in by lot 'twixt high, and neather Jove, 20
Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt Iles
That like to rich, and various gemms inlay
The unadorned boosom of the Deep,
Which he to grace his tributary gods
By course commits to severall government,
And gives them leave to wear their Saphire crowns,
And weild their little tridents, but this Ile
The greatest, and the best of all the main
He quarters to his blu-hair'd deities,
And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun 30
A noble Peer of mickle trust, and power
Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide
An old, and haughty Nation proud in Arms:
Where his fair off-spring nurs't in Princely lore,
Are coming to attend their Fathers state,
And new-entrusted Scepter, but their way
Lies through the perplex't paths of this drear Wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows
Threats the forlorn and wandring Passinger.
And here their tender age might suffer perill, 40
But that by quick command from Soveran Jove
I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard;
And listen why, for I will tell ye now
What never yet was heard in Tale or Song
From old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.
Bacchus that first from out the purple Grape,
Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used Wine
After the Tuscan Mariners transform'd
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,
On Circes Iland fell (who knows not Circe 50
The daughter of the Sun? Whose charmed Cup
Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape,
And downward fell into a groveling Swine)
This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks,
With Ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son
Much like his Father, but his Mother more,
Whom therfore she brought up and Comus named,
Who ripe, and frolick of his full grown age,
Roving the Celtic, and Iberian fields, 60
At last betakes him to this ominous Wood,
And in thick shelter of black shades imbowr'd,
Excells his Mother at her mighty Art,
Offring to every weary Travailer,
His orient liquor in a Crystal Glasse,
To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste
(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst )
Soon as the Potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
Into som brutish form of Woolf, or Bear, 70
Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat,
All other parts remaining as they were,
And they, so perfect is their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely then before
And all their friends, and native home forget
To roule with pleasure in a sensual stie.
Therfore when any favour'd of high Jove,
Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star, 80
I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy,
As now I do: But first I must put off
These my skie robes spun out of Iris Wooff,
And take the Weeds and likenes of a Swain,
That to the service of this house belongs,
Who with his soft Pipe, and smooth-dittied Song,
Well knows to still the wilde winds when they roar,
And hush the waving Woods, nor of lesse faith,
And in this office of his Mountain watch,
Likeliest, and neerest to the present ayd 90
Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
Of hatefull steps, I must be viewles now.
Comus enters with a Charming Rod in one hand, his Glass in
the other, with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts
of wilde Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their
Apparel glistring, they come in making a riotous and unruly
noise, with Torches in their hands.
Co: The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,
Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,
And the gilded Car of Day,
His glowing Axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantick stream,
And the slope Sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky Pole,
Pacing toward the other gole 100
Of his Chamber in the East.
Meanwhile welcom Joy, and Feast,
Midnight shout, and revelry,
Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
Braid your Locks with rosie Twine
Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
Rigor now is gon to bed,
And Advice with scrupulous head,
Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
With their grave Saws in slumber ly. 110
We that are of purer fire
Imitate the Starry Quire,
Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,
Lead in swift round the Months and Years.
The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove
Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,
And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,
Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;
By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,
The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim, 120
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
What hath night to do with sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove,
Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love.
Com let us our rights begin,
'Tis onely day-light that makes Sin
Which these dun shades will ne're report.
Hail Goddesse of Nocturnal sport
Dark vaild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame 130
That ne're art call'd, but when the Dragon woom
Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the ayr,
Stay thy cloudy Ebon chair,
Wherin thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy vow'd Priests, til utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,
The nice Morn on th' Indian steep
From her cabin'd loop hole peep, 140
And to the tel-tale Sun discry
Our conceal'd Solemnity.
Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,
In a light fantastick round.
The Measure.
Break off; break off, I feel the different pace,
Of som chast footing neer about this ground.
Run to your shrouds, within these Brakes and Trees,
Our number may affright: Som Virgin sure
(For so I can distinguish by mine Art)
Benighted in these Woods. Now to my charms, 150
And to my wily trains, I shall e're long
Be well stock't with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my Mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazling Spells into the spungy ayr,
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
And give it false presentments, lest the place
And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
And put the Damsel to suspicious flight,
Which must not be, for that's against my course;
I under fair pretence of friendly ends, 160
And well plac't words of glozing courtesie
Baited with reasons not unplausible
Wind me into the easie-hearted man,
And hugg him into snares. When once her eye
Hath met the vertue of this Magick dust,
I shall appear som harmles Villager
Whom thrift keeps up about his Country gear,
But here she comes, I fairly step aside,
And hearken, if I may, her busines here.
The Lady enters.
La: This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170
My best guide now, me thought it was the sound
Of Riot, and ill manag'd Merriment,
Such as the jocond Flute, or gamesom Pipe
Stirs up among the loose unleter'd Hinds,
When for their teeming Flocks, and granges full
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath
To meet the rudenesse, and swill'd insolence
of such late Wassailers; yet O where els
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180
In the blind mazes of this tangl'd Wood?
My Brothers when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these Pines,
Stept as they se'd to the next Thicket side
To bring me Berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable Woods provide.
They left me then, when the gray-hooded Eev'n
Like a sad Votarist in Palmers weed
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus wain. 190
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts, 'tis likeliest
They had ingag'd their wandring steps too far,
And envious darknes, e're they could return,
Had stole them from me, els O theevish Night
Why shouldst thou, but for som fellonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the Stars,
That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their Lamps
With everlasting oil, to give due light
To the misled and lonely Travailer? 200
This is the place as well as I may guess,
Whence eev'n now the tumult of loud Mirth
Was rife and perfect in my list'ning ear,
Yet nought but single darknes do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory
Of calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire,
And airy tongues, that syllable mens names
On Sands and Shoars and desert Wildernesses.
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210
The vertuous mind that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion Conscience.--
O welcom pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings.
And thou unblemish't form of Chastity,
I see ye visibly and now beleeve
That he, the Supreme good t'whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistring Guardian if need were
To keep my life and honour unassail'd. 220
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err, there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted Grove.
I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but
Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
Ile venter, for my new enliv'nd spirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.
SONG.
Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseen 230
Within thy airy shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet imbroider'd vale
Where the love-lorn Nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O if thou have
Hid them in som flowry Cave,
Tell me but where 240
Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear,
So maist thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies.
Co: Can any mortal mixture of Earths mould
Breath such Divine inchanting ravishment?
Sure somthing holy lodges in that brest,
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testifie his hidd'n residence;
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night 250
At every fall smoothing the Raven doune
Of darknes till it smil'd: I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
Amid'st the flowry-kirtl'd Naiades
Culling their Potent hearbs, and balefull drugs.
Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
And lap it in Elysium, Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention.
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause:
Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, 260
And in sweet madnes rob'd it of it self,
But such a sacred, and home-felt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss
I never heard till now. Ile speak to her
And she shall be my Queen. Hail forren wonder
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed
Unlesse the Goddes that in rurall shrine
Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest Song
Forbidding every bleak unkindly Fog
To touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood. 270
La: Nay gentle Shepherd ill is lost that praise
That is addrest to unattending Ears,
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossie Couch.
Co: What chance good Lady hath bereft you thus?
La: Dim darknes, and this heavy Labyrinth.
Co: Could that divide you from neer-ushering guides?
La: They left me weary on a grassie terf. 280
Co: By falshood, or discourtesie, or why?
La: To seek in vally som cool friendly Spring.
Co: And left your fair side all unguarded Lady?
La: They were but twain, and purpos'd quick return.
Co: Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented them.
La: How easie my misfortune is to hit!
Co: Imports their loss, beside the present need?
La: No less then if I should my brothers loose.
Co: Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
La: As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 290
Co: Two such I saw, what time the labour'd Oxe
In his loose traces from the furrow came,
And the swink't hedger at his Supper sate;
I saw them under a green mantling vine
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots,
Their port was more then human, as they stood;
I took it for a faery vision
Of som gay creatures of the element
That in the colours of the Rainbow live 300
And play i'th plighted clouds. I was aw-strook,
And as I past, I worshipt: if those you seek
It were a journey like the path to Heav'n,
To help you find them. La: Gentle villager
What readiest way would bring me to that place?
Co: Due west it rises from this shrubby point.
La: To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose,
In such a scant allowance of Star-light,
Would overtask the best Land-Pilots art,
Without the sure guess of well-practiz'd feet, 310
Co: I know each lane, and every alley green
Dingle, or bushy dell of this wilde Wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood,
And if your stray attendance be yet lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low roosted lark
From her thatch't pallat rowse, if otherwise
I can conduct you Lady to a low
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320
Till further quest.
La: Shepherd I take thy word,
And trust thy honest offer'd courtesie,
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoaky rafters, then in tapstry Halls
And Courts of Princes, where it first was nam'd,
And yet is most pretended: In a place
Less warranted then this, or less secure
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
Eie me blest Providence, and square my triall
To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd lead on.-- 330
The Two Brothers.
Eld. Bro: Unmuffle ye faint stars, and thou fair Moon
That wontst to love the travailers benizon,
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
And disinherit Chaos, that raigns here
In double night of darknes, and of shades;
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black usurping mists, som gentle taper
Though a rush Candle from the wicker hole
Of som clay habitation visit us
With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light. 340
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure.
2. Bro: Or if our eyes
Be barr'd that happines, might we but hear
The folded flocks pen'd in their watled cotes,
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the Lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery Dames,
'Twould be som solace yet, som little chearing
In this close dungeon of innumerous bowes.
But O that haples virgin our lost sister 350
Where may she wander now, whether betake her
From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?
Perhaps som cold bank is her boulster now
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of som broad Elm
Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears.
What if in wild amazement, and affright,
Or while we speak within the direfull grasp
Of Savage hunger, or of Savage heat?
Eld. Bro: Peace brother, be not over-exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; 360
For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestall his date of grief
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or if they be but false alarms of Fear,
How bitter is such self delusion?
I do not think my sister so to seek,
Or so unprincipl'd in vertues book,
And the sweet peace that goodnes boosoms ever,
As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 370
Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
And put them into mis-becoming plight.
Vertue could see to do what vertue would
By her own radiant light, though Sun and Moon
Were in the salt sea sunk. And Wisdoms self
Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all too ruffled and sometimes impaired. 380
He that has light within his own deer brest
May sit i'th center, and enjoy bright day,
But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the mid-day Sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.
2. Bro: Tis most true
That musing meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,
Far from the cheerfull haunt of men, and herds,
And sits as safe as in a Senat house,
For who would rob a Hermit of his Weeds, 390
His few Books, or his Beads, or Maple Dish,
Or do his gray hairs any violence?
But beauty like the fair Hesperian Tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch with uninchanted eye,
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
You may as well spred out the unsun'd heaps
Of Misers treasure by an out-laws den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400
Danger will wink on Opportunity,
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjur'd in this wilde surrounding wast.
Of night, or lonelines it recks me not,
I fear the dred events that dog them both,
Lest som ill greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.
Eld. Bro: I do not, brother,
Inferr, as if I thought my sisters state
Secure without all doubt, or controversie:
Yet where an equall poise of hope and fear 410
Does arbitrate th'event, my nature is
That I encline to hope, rather then fear,
And gladly banish squint suspicion.
My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine, she has a hidden strength
Which you remember not.
2. Bro: What hidden strength,
Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?
ELD Bro: I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength
Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own:
'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: 420
She that has that, is clad in compleat steel,
And like a quiver'd Nymph with Arrows keen
May trace huge Forests, and unharbour'd Heaths,
Infamous Hills, and sandy perilous wildes,
Where through the sacred rayes of Chastity,
No savage fierce, Bandite, or mountaneer
Will dare to soyl her Virgin purity,
Yea there, where very desolation dwels
By grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench't majesty, 430
Be it not don in pride, or in presumption.
Som say no evil thing that walks by night
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
Blew meager Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magick chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,
Hath hurtfull power o're true virginity.
Do ye beleeve me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old Schools of Greece
To testifie the arms of Chastity? 440
Hence had the huntress Dian her dred bow
Fair silver-shafted Queen for ever chaste,
Wherwith she tam'd the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid, gods and men
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen oth' Woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon sheild
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd Virgin,
Wherwith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone?
But rigid looks of Chast austerity, 450
And noble grace that dash't brute violence
With sudden adoration, and blank aw.
So dear to Heav'n is Saintly chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in cleer dream, and solemn vision
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft convers with heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th'outward shape, 460
The unpolluted temple of the mind.
And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,
Till all be made immortal: but when lust
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by leud and lavish act of sin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose
The divine property of her first being.
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 470
Oft seen in Charnell vaults, and Sepulchers
Lingering, and sitting by a new made grave,
As loath to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link't it self by carnal sensualty
To a degenerate and degraded state.
2. Bro: How charming is divine Philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfet raigns.
Eld. Bro: List, list, I hear 480
Som far off hallow break the silent Air.
2. Bro: Me thought so too; what should it be?
Eld. Bro: For certain
Either som one like us night-founder'd here,
Or els som neighbour Wood-man, or at worst,
Som roaving robber calling to his fellows.
2. Bro: Heav'n keep my sister, agen agen and neer,
Best draw, and stand upon our guard.
Eld. Bro: Ile hallow,
If he be friendly he comes well, if not,
Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us.
[Enter] The attendant Spirit habited like a Shepherd.
That hallow I should know, what are you? speak; 490
Com not too neer, you fall on iron stakes else.
Spir: What voice is that, my young Lord? speak agen.
2. Bro: O brother, 'tis my father Shepherd sure.
Eld. Bro: Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delaid
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,
And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale,
How cam'st thou here good Swain? hath any ram
Slip't from the fold, or young Kid lost his dam,
Or straggling weather the pen't flock forsook?
How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook? 500
Spir: O my lov'd masters heir, and his next joy,
I came not here on such a trivial toy
As a stray'd Ewe, or to pursue the stealth
Of pilfering Woolf, not all the fleecy wealth
That doth enrich these Downs, is worth a thought
To this my errand, and the care it brought.
But O my Virgin Lady, where is she?
How chance she is not in your company?
Eld. Bro: To tell thee sadly Shepherd, without blame
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510
Spir: Ay me unhappy then my fears are true.
Eld. Bro: What fears good Thyrsis? Prethee briefly shew.
Spir: Ile tell ye, 'tis not vain or fabulous,
(Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance)
What the sage Poets taught by th' heav'nly Muse,
Storied of old in high immortal vers
Of dire Chimera's and inchanted Iles,
And rifted Rocks whose entrance leads to hell,
For such there be, but unbelief is blind.
Within the navil of this hideous Wood, 520
Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwels
Of Bacchus, and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skill'd in all his mothers witcheries,
And here to every thirsty wanderer,
By sly enticement gives his banefull cup,
With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
And the inglorious likenes of a beast
Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage
Character'd in the Face; this have I learn't 530
Tending my flocks hard by i'th hilly crofts,
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl
Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.
Yet have they many baits, and guilefull spells
To inveigle and invite th' unwary sense
Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
This evening late by then the chewing flocks 540
Had ta'n their supper on the savoury Herb
Of Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I sate me down to watch upon a bank
With Ivy canopied, and interwove
With flaunting Hony-suckle, and began
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy
To meditate my rural minstrelsie,
Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close
The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,
And fill'd the Air with barbarous dissonance, 550
At which I ceas' t, and listen'd them a while,
Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence
Gave respit to the drowsie frighted steeds
That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep.
At last a soft and solemn breathing sound
Rose like a steam of rich distill'd Perfumes,
And stole upon the Air, that even Silence
Was took e're she was ware, and wish't she might
Deny her nature, and be never more
Still to be so displac't. I was all eare, 560
And took in strains that might create a soul
Under the ribs of Death, but O ere long
Too well I did perceive it was the voice
Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear sister.
Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear,
And O poor hapless Nightingale thought I,
How sweet thou sing'st, how neer the deadly snare!
Then down the Lawns I ran with headlong hast
Through paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day,
Till guided by mine ear I found the place 570
Where that damn'd wisard hid in sly disguise
(For so by certain signes I knew) had met
Already, ere my best speed could praevent,
The aidless innocent Lady his wish't prey,
Who gently ask't if he had seen such two,
Supposing him som neighbour villager;
Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess't
Ye were the two she mean't, with that I sprung
Into swift flight, till I had found you here,
But furder know I not.
2. Bro: O night and shades, 580
How are ye joyn'd with hell in triple knot
Against th'unarmed weakness of one Virgin
Alone, and helpless! Is this the confidence
You gave me Brother?
Eld. Bro: Yes, and keep it still,
Lean on it safely, not a period
Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm,
Vertue may be assail'd, but never hurt,
Surpriz'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd, 590
Yea even that which mischief meant most harm,
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.
But evil on it self shall back recoyl,
And mix no more with goodness, when at last
Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to it self
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed, and self-consum'd, if this fail,
The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness,
And earths base built on stubble. But com let's on.
Against th' opposing will and arm of Heav'n 600
May never this just sword be lifted up,
But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt
With all the greisly legions that troop
Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
Harpyies and Hydra's, or all the monstrous forms
'Twixt Africa and Inde, Ile find him out,
And force him to restore his purchase back,
Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death,
Curs'd as his life.
Spir: Alas good ventrous youth,
I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise, 610
But here thy sword can do thee little stead,
Farr other arms, and other weapons must
Be those that quell the might of hellish charms,
He with his bare wand can unthred thy joynts,
And crumble all thy sinews.
Eld. Bro: Why prethee Shepherd
How durst thou then thy self approach so neer
As to make this relation?
Spir: Care and utmost shifts
How to secure the lady from surprisal,
Brought to my mind a certain Shepherd Lad
Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd 620
In every vertuous plant and healing herb
That spreds her verdant leaf to th'morning ray,
He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing,
Which when I did, he on the tender grass
Would sit, and hearken even to extasie,
And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip,
And shew me simples of a thousand names
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties;
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
But of divine effect, he cull'd me out; 630
The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
But in another Countrey, as he said,
Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyl:
Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swayn
Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon,
And yet more med'cinal is it then that Moly
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
He call'd it Haemony, and gave it me,
And bad me keep it as of sov'ran use
'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp 640
Or gastly furies apparition;
I purs't it up, but little reck'ning made,
Till now that this extremity compell'd,
But now I find it true; for by this means
I knew the foul inchanter though disguis'd,
Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells,
And yet came off: if you have this about you
(As I will give you when we go) you may
Boldly assault the necromancers hall;
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, 650
And brandish't blade rush on him, break his glass,
And shed the lushious liquor on the ground,
But sease his wand, though he and his curst crew
Feirce signe of battail make, and menace high,
Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoak,
Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.
Eld. Bro: Thyrsis lead on apace, Ile follow thee,
And som good angel bear a sheild before us.
The scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness; Soft Musick, Tables spred with all dainties.
Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted
Chair, to whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes
about to rise.
COMUS: Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand
Your nerves are all chain'd up in Alablaster, 660
And you a statue; or as Daphne was
Root-bound, that fled Apollo.
La: Fool do not boast,
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my minde
With all thy charms, although this corporal rinde
Thou haste immanacl'd, while Heav'n sees good.
Co: Why are you vext Lady? why do you frown
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates
Sorrow flies farr: See here be all the pleasures
That fancy can beget on youthfull thoughts,
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 670
Brisk as the April buds in Primrose-season.
And first behold this cordial Julep here
That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds
With spirits of balm, and fragrant Syrops mixt.
Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone,
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena
Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
Why should you be so cruel to your self,
And to those dainty limms which nature lent 680
For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?
But you invert the cov'nants of her trust,
And harshly deal like an ill borrower
With that which you receiv'd on other terms,
Scorning the unexempt condition
By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
That have been tir'd all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted, but fair Virgin
This will restore all soon.
La: 'Twill not false traitor, 690
'Twill not restore the truth and honesty
That thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these
These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceit
Hast thou betrai'd my credulous innocence
With visor'd falshood, and base forgery,
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute? 700
Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,
I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
But such as are good men can give good things,
And that which is not good, is not delicious
To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
Co: O foolishnes of men! that lend their ears
To those budge doctors of the Stoick Furr,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynick Tub,
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
Wherefore did Nature powre her bounties forth, 710
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the Seas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please, and sate the curious taste?
And set to work millions of spinning Worms,
That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk
To deck her Sons, and that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loyns
She hutch't th'all-worshipt ore, and precious gems
To store her children with; if all the world 720
Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but Freize,
Th'all-giver would be unthank't, would be unprais'd,
Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd,
And we should serve him as a grudging master,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
And live like Natures bastards, not her sons,
Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangl'd with her waste fertility;
Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with plumes. 730
The herds would over-multitude their Lords,
The Sea o'refraught would swell, and th'unsought diamonds
Would so emblaze the forhead of the Deep,
And so bested with Stars, that they below
Would grow inur'd to light, and com at last
To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.
List Lady be not coy, and be not cosen'd
With that same vaunted name Virginity,
Beauty is natures coyn, must not be hoorded,
But must be currant, and the good thereof 740
Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss,
Unsavoury in th'injoyment of it self
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
It withers on the stalk with languish't head.
Beauty is natures brag, and must be shown
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities
Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their name thence; course complexions
And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750
The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll.
What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts,
Think what, and be adviz'd, you are but young yet.
La: I had not thought to have unlockt my lips
In this unhallow'd air, but that this Jugler
Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,
Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, 760
And vertue has no tongue to check her pride:
Impostor do not charge most innocent nature,
As if she would her children should be riotous
With her abundance, she good cateress
Means her provision onely to the good
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
If every just man that now pines with want
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper'd Luxury 770
Now heaps upon som few with vast excess,
Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't
In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,
And she no whit encomber'd with her store,
And then the giver would be better thank't,
His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
Ne're looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
Or have I said anough? To him that dares 780
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity,
Fain would I somthing say, yet to what end?
Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soul to apprehend
The sublime notion, and high mystery
That must be utter'd to unfold the sage
And serious doctrine of Virginity,
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness then this thy present lot.
Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetorick 790
That hath so well been taught her dazling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't;
Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence
That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,
And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high,
Were shatter'd into heaps o're thy false head.
Co: She fables not, I feel that I do fear 800
Her words set off by som superior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew
Dips me all o're, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus
To som of Saturns crew. I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly. Com, no more,
This is meer moral babble, and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation;
I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees
And setlings of a melancholy blood; 810
But this will cure all streight, one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.--
The brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest his Glass out of
his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make signe of
resistance, but are all driven in; The attendant Spirit comes in.
Spir: What, have you let the false enchanter scape?
O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand
And bound him fast; without his rod revers't,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the Lady that sits here
In stony fetters fixt, and motionless;
Yet stay, be not disturb'd, now I bethink me 820
Som other means I have which may he us'd
Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt
The soothest Shepherd that ere pip't on plains.
There is a gentle Nymph not farr from hence,
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,
Sabrina is her name, a Virgin pure,
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the Scepter from his father Brute.
The guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen, 830
Commended her fair innocence to the flood
That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course,
The water Nymphs that in the bottom plaid,
Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus Hall,
Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
In nectar'd lavers strew'd with Asphodil,
And through the porch and inlet of each sense
Dropt in Ambrosial Oils till she reviv'd, 840
And underwent a quick immortal change
Made Goddess of the River; still she retains
Her maid'n gentlenes, and oft at Eeve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signes
That the shrewd medling Elfe delights to make,
Which she with pretious viold liquors heals.
For which the Shepherds at their festivals
Carrol her goodnes lowd in rustick layes,
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850
Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy Daffadils.
And, as the old Swain said, she can unlock
The clasping charms, and thaw the numming spell,
If she be right invok't in warbled Song,
For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a Virgin, such as was her self
In hard besetting need, this will I try
And adde the power of som adjuring verse.
SONG.
Sabrina fair
Listen when thou art sitting 860
Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of Lillies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,
Listen for dear honour's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save.
Listen and appear to us
In name of great Oceanus,
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys grave majestick pace, 870
By hoary Nereus wrincled look,
And the Carpathian wisards hook,
By scaly Tritons winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands,
By Thetis tinsel-slipper'd feet,
And the Songs of Sirens sweet,
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
And fair Ligea's golden comb, 880
Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks
Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head
From thy coral-pav'n bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answered have.
Listen and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphes, and sings.
Sab: By the rushy-fringed bank, 890
Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,
My sliding Chariot stayes,
Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen
Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green
That in the channell strayes,
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O're the Cowslips Velvet head,
That bends not as I tread,
Gentle swain at thy request 900
I am here.
Spir: Goddess dear
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band
Of true Virgin here distrest,
Through the force, and through the wile
Of unblest inchanter vile.
Sab: Shepherd 'tis my office best
To help insnared chastity;
Brightest Lady look on me, 910
Thus I sprinkle on thy brest
Drops that from my fountain pure,
I have kept of pretious cure,
Thrice upon thy fingers tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip,
Next this marble venom'd seat
Smear'd with gumms of glutenous heat
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold,
Now the spell hath lost his hold;
And I must haste ere morning hour 920
To wait in Amphitrite's bowr.
Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.
Spir: Virgin, daughter of Locrine
Sprung of old Anchises line,
May thy brimmed waves for this
Their full tribute never miss
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills:
Summer drouth, or singed air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet Octobers torrent flood 930
Thy molten crystal fill with mudd,
May thy billows rowl ashoar
The beryl, and the golden ore,
May thy lofty head be crown'd
With many a tower and terrass round,
And here and there thy banks upon
With Groves of myrrhe, and cinnamon.
Com Lady while Heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this cursed place,
Lest the Sorcerer us intice 940
With som other new device.
Not a waste, or needless sound
Till we com to holier ground,
I shall be your faithfull guide
Through this gloomy covert wide,
And not many furlongs thence
Is your Fathers residence,
Where this night are met in state
Many a friend to gratulate
His wish't presence, and beside 950
All the Swains that there abide,
With Jiggs, and rural dance resort,
We shall catch them at their sport,
And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and chere;
Com let us haste, the Stars grow high,
But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow Town and the President
Castle, then com in Countrey-Dancers, after them the attendant
Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.
SONG.
Spir: Back Shepherds, back, anough your play,
Till next Sun-shine holiday,
Here be without duck or nod 960
Other trippings to be trod
Of lighter toes, and such Court guise
As Mercury did first devise
With the mincing Dryades
On the Lawns, and on the Leas.
This second Song presents them to their father and mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight,
Here behold so goodly grown
Three fair branches of your own,
Heav'n hath timely tri'd their youth. 970
Their faith, their patience, and their truth
And sent them here through hard assays
With a crown of deathless Praise,
To triumph in victorious dance
O're sensual folly, and Intemperance.
The dances ended, the Spirit Epiloguizes.
Spir: To the Ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that ly
Where day never shuts his eye,
Up in the broad fields of the sky:
There I suck the liquid ayr 980
All amidst the Gardens fair
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three
That sing about the golden tree:
Along the crisped shades and bowres
Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,
The Graces, and the rosie-boosom'd Howres,
Thither all their bounties bring,
That there eternal Summer dwels,
And West winds, with musky wing
About the cedar'n alleys fling 990
Nard, and Cassia's balmy smels.
Iris there with humid bow,
Waters the odorous banks that blow
Flowers of more mingled hew
Then her purfl'd scarf can shew,
And drenches with Elysian dew
(List mortals, if your ears be true)
Beds of Hyacinth, and roses
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound 1000
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits th' Assyrian Queen;
But far above in spangled sheen
Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc't,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranc't
After her wandring labours long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal Bride,
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn. 1010
But now my task is smoothly don,
I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earths end,
Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend,
And from thence can soar as soon
To the corners of the Moon.
Mortals that would follow me,
Love vertue, she alone is free,
She can teach ye how to clime 1020
Higher then the Spheary chime;
Or if Vertue feeble were,
Heav'n it self would stoop to her.
Notes:
43 ye] you 1673
167 omitted 1673
168, 9 Thus 1637. Manuscript reads--
but heere she comes I fairly step aside
& hearken, if I may, her buisnesse heere.
1673 reads--
And hearken, if I may her business hear.
But here she comes, I fairly step aside.
474 sensualty] sensuality 1673. Manuscript also reads sensualtie,
as the metre requires.
493 father] So also 1673. Manuscript reads father's
547 meditate] meditate upon 1673
553 drowsie frighted] Manuscript reads drowsie flighted.
556 steam] stream 1673
580 furder] further 1673
743 In the manuscript, which reads--
If you let slip time like an neglected rose
a circle has been drawn round the an, but probably not by Milton.
780 anough] anow 1673
POEMS ADDED IN THE 1673 EDITION.
ANNO AETATIS 17. ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH.
I
O FAIREST flower no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie,
Summers chief honour if thou hadst outlasted
Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie;
For he being amorous on that lovely die
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss
But kill'd alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss.
II
For since grim Aquilo his charioter
By boistrous rape th' Athenian damsel got,
He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer, 10
If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot,
Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,
Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.
III
So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr,
Through middle empire of the freezing aire
He wanderd long, till thee he spy'd from farr,
There ended was his quest, there ceast his care
Down he descended from his Snow-soft chaire,
But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20
Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.
IV
Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For so Apollo, with unweeting hand
Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate
Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' strand,
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;
But then transform'd him to a purple flower
Alack that so to change thee winter had no power.
V
Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead
Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe, 30
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,
Hid from the world in a low delved tombe;
Could Heav'n for pittie thee so strictly doom?
O no! for something in thy face did shine
Above mortalitie that shew'd thou wast divine.
VI
Resolve me then oh Soul most surely blest
(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear)
Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hoverest
Whether above that high first-moving Spheare
Or in the Elisian fields (if such there were.) 40
Oh say me true if thou wert mortal wight
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight.
VII
Wert thou some Starr which from the ruin'd roofe
Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall;
Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
Or did of late earths Sonnes besiege the wall
Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou some goddess fled
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head
VIII
Or wert thou that just Maid who once before 50
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth
And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth!
Or that c[r]own'd Matron sage white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that heav'nly brood
Let down in clowdie throne to do the world some good.
Note: 53 Or wert thou] Or wert thou Mercy--conjectured by
John Heskin Ch. Ch. Oxon. from Ode on Nativity, st. 15.
IX
Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoast,
Who having clad thy self in humane weed,
To earth from thy praefixed seat didst poast,
And after short abode flie back with speed, 60
As if to shew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire.
X
But oh why didst thou not stay here below
To bless us with thy heav'n-lov'd innocence,
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe
To turn Swift-rushing black perdition hence,
Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence,
To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart
But thou canst best perform that office where thou art. 70
XI
Then thou the mother of so sweet a child
Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament,
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
Think what a present thou to God hast sent,
And render him with patience what he lent;
This if thou do he will an off-spring give,
That till the worlds last-end shall make thy name to live.
Anno Aetatis 19. At a Vacation Exercise in the Colledge, part
Latin, part English. The Latin speeches ended, the English thus
began.
HAIL native Language, that by sinews weak
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak,
And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps,
Half unpronounc't, slide through my infant-lipps,
Driving dum silence from the portal dore,
Where he had mutely sate two years before:
Here I salute thee and thy pardon ask,
That now I use thee in my latter task:
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little Grace can do thee: 10
Thou needst not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me I have thither packt the worst:
And, if it happen as I did forecast,
The daintiest dishes shall be serv'd up last.
I pray thee then deny me not thy aide
For this same small neglect that I have made:
But haste thee strait to do me once a Pleasure,
And from thy wardrope bring thy chiefest treasure;
Not those new fangled toys, and triming slight
Which takes our late fantasticks with delight, 20
But cull those richest Robes, and gay'st attire
Which deepest Spirits, and choicest Wits desire:
I have some naked thoughts that rove about
And loudly knock to have their passage out;
And wearie of their place do only stay
Till thou hast deck't them in thy best aray;
That so they may without suspect or fears
Fly swiftly to this fair Assembly's ears;
Yet I had rather if I were to chuse,
Thy service in some graver subject use, 30
Such as may make thee search thy coffers round
Before thou cloath my fancy in fit sound:
Such where the deep transported mind may soare
Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'ns dore
Look in, and see each blissful Deitie
How he before the thunderous throne doth lie,
Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings
To th'touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings
Immortal Nectar to her Kingly Sire:
Then passing through the Spherse of watchful fire, 40
And mistie Regions of wide air next under,
And hills of Snow and lofts of piled Thunder,
May tell at length how green-ey'd Neptune raves,
In Heav'ns defiance mustering all his waves;
Then sing of secret things that came to pass
When Beldam Nature in her cradle was;
And last of Kings and Queens and Hero's old,
Such as the wise Demodocus once told
In solemn Songs at King Alcinous feast,
While sad Ulisses soul and all the rest 50
Are held with his melodious harmonie
In willing chains and sweet captivitie.
But fie my wandring Muse how thou dost stray!
Expectance calls thee now another way,
Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent
To keep in compass of thy Predicament:
Then quick about thy purpos'd business come,
That to the next I may resign my Roome
Then Ens is represented as Father of the Predicaments his ten
Sons, whereof the Eldest stood for Substance with his Canons,
which Ens thus speaking, explains.
Good luck befriend thee Son; for at thy birth
The Faiery Ladies daunc't upon the hearth; 60
Thy drowsie Nurse hath sworn she did them spie
Come tripping to the Room where thou didst lie;
And sweetly singing round about thy Bed
Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping Head.
She heard them give thee this, that thou should'st still
From eyes of mortals walk invisible,
Yet there is something that doth force my fear,
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
A Sybil old, bow-bent with crooked age,
That far events full wisely could presage,
And in Times long and dark Prospective Glass
Fore-saw what future dayes should bring to pass,
Your Son, said she, (nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be to many an Accident.
O're all his Brethren he shall Reign as King,
Yet every one shall make him underling,
And those that cannot live from him asunder
Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under,
In worth and excellence he shall out-go them,
Yet being above them, he shall be below them; 80
From others he shall stand in need of nothing,
Yet on his Brothers shall depend for Cloathing.
To find a Foe it shall not be his hap,
And peace shall lull him in her flowry lap;
Yet shall he live in strife, and at his dore
Devouring war shall never cease to roare;
Yea it shall be his natural property
To harbour those that are at enmity.
What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not
Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? 90
The next Quantity and Quality, spake in Prose, then Relation
was call'd by his Name.
Rivers arise; whether thou be the Son,
Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulphie Dun,
Or Trent, who like some earth-born Giant spreads
His thirty Armes along the indented Meads,
Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath,
Or Severn swift, guilty of Maidens death,
Or Rockie Avon, or of Sedgie Lee,
Or Coaly Tine, or antient hallowed Dee,
Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythians Name,
Or Medway smooth, or Royal Towred Thame. 100
The rest was Prose.
THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. LIB. I.
Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa
Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the
Latin Measure, as near as the Language permit.
WHAT slender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours
Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave,
Pyrrha for whom bind'st thou
In wreaths thy golden Hair,
Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he
On Faith and changed Gods complain: and Seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire:
Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold,
Who alwayes vacant, alwayes amiable 10
Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindfull. Hapless they
To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my vow'd
Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea.
[The Latin text follows.]
SONNETS.
XI
A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon;
And wov'n close, both matter, form and stile;
The Subject new: it walk'd the Town a while,
Numbring good intellects; now seldom por'd on.
Cries the stall-reader, bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file
Stand spelling fals, while one might walk to Mile-
End Green. Why is it harder Sirs then Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?
Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek 10
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.
Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,
Hated not Learning wors then Toad or Asp;
When thou taught'st Cambridge, and King Edward Greek.
Note: Camb. Autograph supplies title, On the Detraction which
followed my writing certain Treatises.
XII. On the same.
I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs
By the known rules of antient libertie,
When strait a barbarous noise environs me
Of Owles and Cuckoes, Asses, Apes and Doggs.
As when those Hinds that were transform'd to Froggs
Raild at Latona's twin-born progenie
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee.
But this is got by casting Pearl to Hoggs;
That bawle for freedom in their senceless mood,
And still revolt when truth would set them free. 10
Licence they mean when they cry libertie;
For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they roave we see
For all this wast of wealth, and loss of blood.
XIII
To Mr. H. Lawes, on his Aires.
Harry whose tuneful and well measur'd Song
First taught our English Musick how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas Ears, committing short and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man,
That with smooth aire couldst humor best our tongue
Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must send her wing
To honour thee, the Priest of Phoebus Quire 10
That tun'st their happiest lines in Hymn or Story
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Then his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
Note: 9 send] lend Cambridge Autograph MS.
XIV
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load
Of Death, call'd Life; which us from Life doth sever
Thy Works and Alms and all thy good Endeavour
Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod;
But as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith who knew them best
Thy hand-maids, clad them o're with purple beams 10
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest,
And speak the truth of thee on glorious Theams
Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.
Note: Camb. Autograph supplies title, On the Religious
Memory of Catherine Thomson, my Christian Friend, deceased
16 Decemb., 1646.
XV
ON THE LATE MASSACHER IN PIEMONT.
Avenge O lord thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our Fathers worship't Stocks and Stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groanes
Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold
Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd
Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans
The Vales redoubl'd to the Hills, and they
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 10
O're all th'Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hunder'd-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian wo.
XVI
When I consider how my light is spent,
E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts, who best 10
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.
XVII
Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son,
Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help wast a sullen day; what may be Won
From the hard Season gaining: time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire
The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise 10
To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice
Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
XVIII
Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench
Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc't and in his volumes taught our Lawes,
Which others at their Barr so often wrench:
To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting drawes;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; 10
For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
XIX
Methought I saw my late espoused Saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,
Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint.
Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint,
Purification in the old Law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied sight, 10
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But O as to embrace me she enclin'd
I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT.
Because you have thrown of your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff Vowes renounc'd his Liturgie
To seise the widdow'd whore Pluralitie
From them whose sin ye envi'd, not abhor'd,
Dare ye for this adjure the Civill Sword
To force our Consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic Hierarchy
Taught ye by meer A. S. and Rotherford?
Men whose Life, Learning, Faith and pure intent
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul 10
Must now be nam'd and printed Hereticks
By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call:
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing wors then those of Trent,
That so the Parliament
May with their wholsom and preventive Shears
Clip your Phylacteries, though bauk your Ears,
And succour our just Fears
When they shall read this clearly in your charge
New Presbyter is but Old Priest Writ Large. 20
The four following sonnets were not published until 1694, and
then in a mangled form by Phillips, in his Life of Milton; they
are here printed from the Cambridge MS., where that to Fairfax
is in Milton's autograph.
ON THE LORD GEN. FAIRFAX AT THE SEIGE OF COLCHESTER.
Fairfax, whose name in armes through Europe rings
Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze,
And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings,
Thy firm unshak'n vertue ever brings
Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, & the fals North displaies
Her brok'n league, to impe their serpent wings,
O yet a nobler task awaites thy hand;
Yet what can Warr, but endless warr still breed, 10
Till Truth, & Right from Violence be freed,
And Public Faith cleard from the shamefull brand
Of Public Fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed
While Avarice, & Rapine share the land.
TO THE LORD GENERALL CROMWELL MAY 1652.
ON THE PROPOSALLS OF CERTAINE MINISTERS AT THE COMMITTEE FOR
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPELL.
Cromwell, our cheif of men, who through a cloud
Not of warr onely, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith & matchless Fortitude
To peace & truth thy glorious way hast plough'd,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Hast reard Gods Trophies, & his work pursu'd,
While Darwen stream with blood of Scotts imbru'd,
And Dunbarr field resounds thy praises loud,
And Worsters laureat wreath; yet much remaines
To conquer still; peace hath her victories 10
No less renownd then warr, new foes aries
Threatning to bind our soules with secular chaines:
Helpe us to save free Conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves whose Gospell is their maw.
TO SR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER.
Vane, young in yeares, but in sage counsell old,
Then whome a better Senatour nere held
The helme of Rome, when gownes not armes repelld
The feirce Epeirot & the African bold,
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold
The drift of hollow states, hard to be spelld,
Then to advise how warr may best, upheld,
Move by her two maine nerves, Iron & Gold
In all her equipage: besides to know
Both spirituall powre & civill, what each meanes 10
What severs each thou hast learnt, which few have don
The bounds of either sword to thee wee ow.
Therfore on thy firme hand religion leanes
In peace, & reck'ns thee her eldest son.
TO MR. CYRIACK SKINNER UPON HIS BLINDNESS.
Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear
To outward view, of blemish or of spot;
Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot,
Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear
Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not
Against heavns hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overply'd 10
In libertyes defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content though blind, had I no better guide.
PSAL. I. Done into Verse, 1653.
BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and ith'way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of scorners hath not sate. But in the great
Jehovahs Law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watry streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall.
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all. 10
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their tryal then
Nor sinners in th'assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th'upright way of the just
And the way of bad men to ruine must.
PSAL. II Done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzetti.
WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand
With power, and Princes in their Congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each Land,
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear.
Let us break off; say they, by strength of hand
Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,
Their twisted cords: he who in Heaven doth dwell
Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe
Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell 10
And fierce ire trouble them; but I saith hee
Anointed have my King (though ye rebell)
On Sion my holi' hill. A firm decree
I will declare; the Lord to me hath say'd
Thou art my Son I have begotten thee
This day, ask of me, and the grant is made;
As thy possession I on thee bestow
Th'Heathen, and as thy conquest to be sway'd
Earths utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full low
With Iron Sceptir bruis'd, and them disperse 20
Like to a potters vessel shiver'd so.
And now be wise at length ye Kings averse
Be taught ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve and let your joy converse
With trembling; Kiss the Son least he appear
In anger and ye perish in the way
If once his wrath take fire like fuel sere.
Happy all those who have in him their stay.
PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653
WHEN HE FLED FROM ABSALOM.
LORD how many are my foes
How many those
That in arms against me rise
Many are they
That of my life distrustfully thus say,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou Lord art my shield my glory,
Thee through my story
Th' exalter of my head I count
Aloud I cry'd 10
Unto Jehovah, he full soon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept, I wak'd again,
For my sustain
Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout
I fear not though incamping round about
They pitch against me their Pavillions.
Rise Lord, save me my God for thou
Hast smote ere now 20
On the cheek-bone all my foes,
Of men abhor'd
Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;
Thy blessing on thy people flows.
PSAL. IV. Aug. 10.1653.
ANSWER me when I call
God of my righteousness;
In straights and in distress
Thou didst me disinthrall
And set at large; now spare,
Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai'r.
Great ones how long will ye
My glory have in scorn
How long be thus forlorn
Still to love vanity, 10
To love, to seek, to prize
Things false and vain and nothing else but lies?
Yet know the Lord hath chose
Chose to himself apart
The good and meek of heart
(For whom to chuse he knows)
Jehovah from on high
Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie.
Be aw'd, and do not sin,
Speak to your hearts alone, 20
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.
Offer the offerings just
Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust.
Many there be that say
Who yet will shew us good?
Talking like this worlds brood;
But Lord, thus let me pray,
On us lift up the light
Lift up the favour of thy count'nance bright. 30
Into my heart more joy
And gladness thou hast put
Then when a year of glut
Their stores doth over-cloy
And from their plenteous grounds
With vast increase their corn and wine abounds.
In peace at once will I
Both lay me down and sleep
For thou alone dost keep
Me safe where ere I lie 40
As in a rocky Cell
Thou Lord alone in safety mak'st me dwell.
PSAL. V. Aug. 12.1653.
JEHOVAH to my words give ear
My meditation waigh
The voyce of my complaining hear
My King and God for unto thee I pray.
Jehovah thou my early voyce
Shalt in the morning hear
Ith'morning I to thee with choyce
Will rank my Prayers, and watch till thou appear.
For thou art not a God that takes
In wickedness delight 10
Evil with thee no biding makes
Fools or mad men stand not within thy sight.
All workers of iniquity
Thou wilt destroy that speak a ly
The bloodi' and guileful man God doth detest.
But I will in thy mercies dear
Thy numerous mercies go
Into thy house; I in thy fear
Will towards thy holy temple worship low. 20
Lord lead me in thy righteousness
Lead me because of those
That do observe if I transgress,
Set thy wayes right before, where my step goes.
For in his faltring mouth unstable
No word is firm or sooth
Their inside, troubles miserable;
An open grave their throat, their tongue they smooth.
God, find them guilty, let them fall
By their own counsels quell'd; 30
Push them in their rebellions all
Still on; for against thee they have rebell'd;
Then all who trust in thee shall bring
Their joy, while thou from blame
Defend'st them, they shall ever sing
And shall triumph in thee, who love thy name.
For thou Jehovah wilt be found
To bless the just man still,
As with a shield thou wilt surround
Him with thy lasting favour and good will. 40
PSAL. VI Aug. 13. 1653.
LORD in thine anger do not reprehend me
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me Lord for I am much deject
Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,
For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my soul is troubled sore
And thou O Lord how long? turn Lord, restore
My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake
For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise? 10
Wearied I am with sighing out my dayes.
Nightly my Couch I make a kind of Sea;
My Bed I water with my tears; mine Eie
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
Ith' mid'st of all mine enemies that mark.
Depart all ye that work iniquitie.
Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prai'r
My supplication with acceptance fair
The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping. 20
Mine enemies shall all be blank and dash't
With much confusion; then grow red with shame,
They shall return in hast the way they came
And in a moment shall be quite abash't.
PSAL. VII. Aug. 14. 1653.
UPON THE WORDS OF CHUSH THE BENJAMITE AGAINST HIM.
Lord my God to thee I flie
Save me and secure me under
Thy protection while I crie
Least as a Lion (and no wonder)
He hast to tear my Soul asunder
Tearing and no rescue nigh.
Lord my God if I have thought
Or done this, if wickedness
Be in my hands, if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace, 10
Or to him have render'd less,
And not fre'd my foe for naught;
Let th'enemy pursue my soul
And overtake it, let him tread
My life down to the earth and roul
In the dust my glory dead,
In the dust and there out spread
Lodge it with dishonour foul.
Rise Jehovah in thine ire
Rouze thy self amidst the rage 20
Of my foes that urge like fire;
And wake for me, their furi' asswage;
Judgment here thou didst ingage
And command which I desire.
So th' assemblies of each Nation
Will surround thee, seeking right,
Thence to thy glorious habitation
Return on high and in their sight.
Jehovah judgeth most upright
All people from the worlds foundation. 30
Judge me Lord, be judge in this
According to my righteousness
And the innocence which is
Upon me: cause at length to cease
Of evil men the wickedness
And their power that do amiss.
But the just establish fast,
Since thou art the just God that tries
Hearts and reins. On God is cast
My defence, and in him lies 40
In him who both just and wise
Saves th' upright of Heart at last.
God is a just Judge and severe,
And God is every day offended;
If th' unjust will not forbear,
His Sword he whets, his Bow hath bended
Already, and for him intended
The tools of death, that waits him near.
(His arrows purposely made he
For them that persecute.) Behold 50
He travels big with vanitie,
Trouble he hath conceav'd of old
As in a womb, and from that mould
Hath at length brought forth a Lie.
He dig'd a pit, and delv'd it deep,
And fell into the pit he made,
His mischief that due course doth keep,
Turns on his head, and his ill trade
Of violence will undelay'd
Fall on his crown with ruine steep. 60
Then will I Jehovah's praise
According to his justice raise
And sing the Name and Deitie
Of Jehovah the most high.
PSAL. VIII. Aug. 14. 1653.
O JEHOVAH our Lord how wondrous great
And glorious is thy name through all the earth?
So as above the Heavens thy praise to set
Out of the tender mouths of latest bearth,
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou
Hast founded strength because of all thy foes
To stint th'enemy, and slack th'avengers brow
That bends his rage thy providence to oppose.
When I behold thy Heavens, thy Fingers art,
The Moon and Starrs which thou so bright hast set, 10
In the pure firmament, then saith my heart,
O What is man that thou remembrest yet,
And think'st upon him; or of man begot
That him thou visit'st and of him art found;
Scarce to be less then Gods, thou mad'st his lot,
With honour and with state thou hast him crown'd.
O're the works of thy hand thou mad'st him Lord,
Thou hast put all under his lordly feet,
All Flocks, and Herds, by thy commanding word,
All beasts that in the field or forrest meet. 20
Fowl of the Heavens, and Fish that through the wet
Sea-paths in shoals do slide. And know no dearth.
O Jehovah our Lord how wondrous great
And glorious is thy name through all the earth.
APRIL, 1648. J. M. NINE OF THE PSALMS DONE INTO METRE,
Wherein all but what is in a different Character, are the very words of
the Text, translated from the Original.
PSAL. LXXX.
1 THOU Shepherd that dost Israel keep
Give ear in time of need,
Who leadest like a flock of sheep
Thy loved Josephs seed,
That sitt'st between the Cherubs bright
Between their wings out-spread
Shine forth, and from thy cloud give light,
And on our foes thy dread.
2 In Ephraims view and Benjamins,
And in Manasse's sight 10
Awake* thy strength, come, and be seen *Gnorera.
To save us by thy might.
3 Turn us again, thy grace divine
To us O God vouchsafe;
Cause thou thy face on us to shine
And then we shall be safe.
4 Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou,
How long wilt thou declare
Thy *smoaking wrath, and angry brow *Gnashanta.
Against thy peoples praire. 20
5 Thou feed'st them with the bread of tears,
Their bread with tears they eat,
And mak'st them* largely drink the tears *Shalish.
Wherewith their cheeks are wet.
6 A strife thou mak'st us and a prey
To every neighbour foe,
Among themselves they *laugh, they *play, *Jilgnagu.
And *flouts at us they throw.
7 Return us, and thy grace divine,
O God of Hosts vouchsafe 30
Cause thou thy face on us to shine,
And then we shall be safe.
8 A Vine from Aegypt thou hast brought,
Thy free love made it thine,
And drov'st out Nations proud and haut
To plant this lovely Vine.
9 Thou did'st prepare for it a place
And root it deep and fast
That it began to grow apace,
And fill'd the land at last. 40
10 With her green shade that cover'd all,
The Hills were over-spread
Her Bows as high as Cedars tall
Advanc'd their lofty head.
11 Her branches on the western side
Down to the Sea she sent,
And upward to that river wide
Her other branches went.
12 Why hast thou laid her Hedges low
And brok'n down her Fence, 50
That all may pluck her, as they go,
With rudest violence?
13 The tusked Boar out of the wood
Up turns it by the roots,
Wild Beasts there brouze, and make their food
Her Grapes and tender Shoots.
14 Return now, God of Hosts, look down
From Heav'n, thy Seat divine,
Behold us, but without a frown,
And visit this thy Vine. 60
15 Visit this Vine, which thy right hand
Hath set, and planted long,
And the young branch, that for thy self
Thou hast made firm and strong.
16 But now it is consum'd with fire,
And cut with Axes down,
They perish at thy dreadfull ire,
At thy rebuke and frown.
17 Upon the man of thy right hand
Let thy good hand be laid, 70
Upon the Son of Man, whom thou
Strong for thyself hast made.
18 So shall we not go back from thee
To wayes of sin and shame,
Quick'n us thou, then gladly wee
Shall call upon thy Name.
Return us, and thy grace divine
Lord God of Hosts voutsafe,
Cause thou thy face on us to shine,
And then we shall be safe. 80
PSAL. LXXXI.
1 To God our strength sing loud, and clear,
Sing loud to God our King,
To Jacobs God, that all may hear
Loud acclamations ring.
2 Prepare a Hymn, prepare a Song
The Timbrel hither bring
The cheerfull Psaltry bring along
And Harp with pleasant string.
3 Blow, as is wont, in the new Moon
With Trumpets lofty sound, 10
Th'appointed time, the day wheron
Our solemn Feast comes round.
4 This was a Statute giv'n of old
For Israel to observe
A Law of Jacobs God, to hold
From whence they might not swerve.
5 This he a Testimony ordain'd
In Joseph, not to change,
When as he pass'd through Aegypt land;
The Tongue I heard, was strange. 20
6 From burden, and from slavish toyle
I set his shoulder free;
His hands from pots, and mirie soyle
Deliver'd were by me.
7 When trouble did thee sore assaile,
On me then didst thou call,
And I to free thee did not faile,
And led thee out of thrall.
I answer'd thee in *thunder deep *Be Sether ragnam.
With clouds encompass'd round; 30
I tri'd thee at the water steep
Of Meriba renown'd.
8 Hear O my people, heark'n well,
I testifie to thee
Thou antient flock of Israel,
If thou wilt list to mee,
9 Through out the land of thy abode
No alien God shall be
Nor shalt thou to a forein God
In honour bend thy knee. 40
10 I am the Lord thy God which brought
Thee out of Aegypt land
Ask large enough, and I, besought,
Will grant thy full demand.
11 And yet my people would not hear,
Nor hearken to my voice;
And Israel whom I lov'd so dear
Mislik'd me for his choice.
12 Then did I leave them to their will
And to their wandring mind; 50
Their own conceits they follow'd still
Their own devises blind
13 O that my people would be wise
To serve me all their daies,
And O that Israel would advise
To walk my righteous waies.
14 Then would I soon bring down their foes
That now so proudly rise,
And turn my hand against all those
That are their enemies. 60
15 Who hate the Lord should then be fain
To bow to him and bend,
But they, His should remain,
Their time should have no end.
16 And he would free them from the shock
With flower of finest wheat,
And satisfie them from the rock
With Honey for their Meat.
PSAL. LXXXII.
1 GOD in the *great *assembly stands *Bagnadath-el
Of Kings and lordly States,
Among the gods* on both his hands. *Bekerev.
He judges and debates.
2 How long will ye *pervert the right *Tishphetu
With *judgment false and wrong gnavel.
Favouring the wicked by your might,
Who thence grow bold and strong?
3 *Regard the *weak and fatherless *Shiphtu-dal.
*Dispatch the *poor mans cause, 10
And **raise the man in deep distress
By **just and equal Lawes. **Hatzdiku.
4 Defend the poor and desolate,
And rescue from the hands
Of wicked men the low estate
Of him that help demands.
5 They know not nor will understand,
In darkness they walk on,
The Earths foundations all are *mov'd *Jimmotu.
And *out of order gon. 20
6 I said that ye were Gods, yea all
The Sons of God most high
7 But ye shall die like men, and fall
As other Princes die.
8 Rise God, *judge thou the earth in might,
This wicked earth *redress, *Shiphta.
For thou art he who shalt by right
The Nations all possess.
PSAL. LXXXIII.
1 BE not thou silent now at length
O God hold not thy peace,
Sit not thou still O God of strength
We cry and do not cease.
2 For lo thy furious foes now *swell
And *storm outrageously, *Jehemajun.
And they that hate thee proud and fell
Exalt their heads full hie.
3 Against thy people they *contrive *Jagnarimu.
*Their Plots and Counsels deep, *Sod. 10
*Them to ensnare they chiefly strive *Jithjagnatsu gnal.
*Whom thou dost hide and keep. *Tsephuneca.
4 Come let us cut them off say they,
Till they no Nation be
That Israels name for ever may
Be lost in memory.
5 For they consult *with all their might, *Lev jachdau.
And all as one in mind
Themselves against thee they unite
And in firm union bind. 20
6 The tents of Edom, and the brood
Of scornful Ishmael,
Moab, with them of Hagars blood
That in the Desart dwell,
7 Gebal and Ammon there conspire,
And hateful Amalec,
The Philistines, and they of Tyre
Whose bounds the sea doth check.
8 With them great Asshur also bands
And doth confirm the knot, 30
All these have lent their armed hands
To aid the Sons of Lot.
9 Do to them as to Midian bold
That wasted all the Coast.
To Sisera, and as is told
Thou didst to Jabins hoast,
When at the brook of Kishon old
They were repulst and slain,
10 At Endor quite cut off, and rowl'd
As dung upon the plain. 40
11 As Zeb and Oreb evil sped
So let their Princes speed
As Zeba, and Zalmunna bled
So let their Princes bleed.
12 For they amidst their pride have said
By right now shall we seize
Gods houses, and will now invade
*Their stately Palaces. *Neoth Elohim bears both.
13 My God, oh make them as a wheel
No quiet let them find, 50
Giddy and restless let them reel
Like stubble from the wind.
14 As when an aged wood takes fire
Which on a sudden straies,
The greedy flame runs hier and hier
Till all the mountains blaze,
15 So with thy whirlwind them pursue,
And with thy tempest chase;
16 *And till they *yield thee honour due, *They seek thy
Lord fill with shame their face. Name. Heb.
17 Asham'd and troubl'd let them be, 60
Troubl'd and sham'd for ever,
Ever confounded, and so die
With shame, and scape it never.
18 Then shall they know that thou whose name
Jehova is alone,
Art the most high, and thou the same
O're all the earth art one.
PSAL. LXXXIV.
1 How lovely are thy dwellings fair!
O Lord of Hoasts, how dear
The pleasant Tabernacles are!
Where thou do'st dwell so near.
2 My Soul doth long and almost die
Thy Courts O Lord to see,
My heart and flesh aloud do crie,
O living God, for thee.
3 There ev'n the Sparrow freed from wrong
Hath found a house of rest, 10
The Swallow there, to lay her young
Hath built her brooding nest,
Ev'n by thy Altars Lord of Hoasts
They find their safe abode,
And home they fly from round the Coasts
Toward thee, My King, my God
4 Happy, who in thy house reside
Where thee they ever praise,
5 Happy, whose strength in thee doth bide,
And in their hearts thy waies. 20
6 They pass through Baca's thirstie Vale,
That dry and barren ground
As through a fruitfull watry Dale
Where Springs and Showrs abound.
7 They journey on from strength to strength
With joy and gladsom cheer
Till all before our God at length
In Sion do appear.
8 Lord God of Hoasts hear now my praier
O Jacobs God give ear, 30
9 Thou God our shield look on the face
Of thy anointed dear.
10 For one day in thy Courts to be
Is better, and more blest
Then in the joyes of Vanity,
A thousand daies at best.
I in the temple of my God
Had rather keep a dore,
Then dwell in Tents, and rich abode
With Sin for evermore 40
11 For God the Lord both Sun and Shield
Gives grace and glory bright,
No good from him shall be with-held
Whose waies are just and right.
12 Lord God of Hoasts that raign 'st on high,
That man is truly blest
Who only on thee doth relie.
And in thee only rest.
PSAL LXXXV.
1 THY Land to favour graciously
Thou hast not Lord been slack,
Thou hast from hard Captivity
Returned Jacob back.
2 Th' iniquity thou didst forgive
That wrought thy people woe,
And all their Sin, that did thee grieve
Hast hid where none shall know.
3 Thine anger all thou hadst remov'd,
And calmly didst return 10
From thy *fierce wrath which we had prov'd *Heb. The burning
Far worse then fire to burn. heat of thy
4 God of our saving health and peace, wrath.
Turn us, and us restore,
Thine indignation cause to cease
Toward us, and chide no more.
5 Wilt thou be angry without end,
For ever angry thus
Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend
From age to age on us? 20
6 Wilt thou not * turn, and hear our voice * Heb. Turn to
And us again * revive, quicken us.
That so thy people may rejoyce
By thee preserv'd alive.
7 Cause us to see thy goodness Lord,
To us thy mercy shew
Thy saving health to us afford
And life in us renew.
8 And now what God the Lord will speak
I will go strait and hear, 30
For to his people he speaks peace
And to his Saints full dear,
To his dear Saints he will speak peace,
But let them never more
Return to folly, but surcease
To trespass as before.
9 Surely to such as do him fear
Salvation is at hand
And glory shall ere long appear
To dwell within our Land. 40
10 Mercy and Truth that long were miss'd
Now joyfully are met
Sweet Peace and Righteousness have kiss'd
And hand in hand are set.
11 Truth from the earth like to a flowr
Shall bud and blossom then,
And Justice from her heavenly bowr
Look down on mortal men.
12 The Lord will also then bestow
Whatever thing is good 50
Our Land shall forth in plenty throw
Her fruits to be our food.
13 Before him Righteousness shall go
His Royal Harbinger,
Then * will he come, and not be slow *Heb. He will set his
His footsteps cannot err. steps to the way.
PSAL. LXXXVI.
1 THY gracious ear, O Lord, encline,
O hear me I thee pray,
For I am poor, and almost pine
With need, and sad decay.
2 Preserve my soul, for *I have trod Heb. I am good, loving,
Thy waies, and love the just, a doer of good and
Save thou thy servant O my God holy things
Who still in thee doth trust.
3 Pity me Lord for daily thee
I call; 4 O make rejoyce 10
Thy Servants Soul; for Lord to thee
I lift my soul and voice,
5 For thou art good, thou Lord art prone
To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone
To them that on thee call.
6 Unto my supplication Lord
Give ear, and to the crie
Of my incessant praiers afford
Thy hearing graciously. 20
7 I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access
And answer, what I pray'd.
8 Like thee among the gods is none
O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
9 The Nations all whom thou hast made
Shall come, and all shall frame 30
To bow them low before thee Lord,
And glorifie thy name.
10 For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy strong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat
Remainest God alone.
11 Teach me O Lord thy way most right,
I in thy truth will bide,
To fear thy name my heart unite
So shall it never slide. 40
12 Thee will I praise O Lord my God
Thee honour, and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for ever more.
13 For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast free'd my Soul
Eev'n from the lowest Hell set free
From deepest darkness foul.
14 O God the proud against me rise
And violent men are met 50
To seek my life, and in their eyes
No fear of thee have set.
15 But thou Lord art the God most mild
Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art stil'd
Most mercifull, most true.
16 O turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on,
Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy hand-maids Son. 60
17 Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see
And be asham'd, because thou Lord
Do'st help and comfort me.
PSAL. LXXXVII
1 AMONG the holy Mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There Seated in his Sanctuary,
His Temple there is plac't.
2 Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more
Then all the dwellings faire
Of Jacobs Land, though there be store,
And all within his care.
3 City of God, most glorious things
Of thee abroad are spoke; 10
4 I mention Egypt, where proud Kings
Did our forefathers yoke,
I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,
Lo this man there was born:
5 But twise that praise shall in our ear
Be said of Sion last
This and this man was born in her,
High God shall fix her fast. 20
6 The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle
That ne're shall be out-worn
When he the Nations doth enrowle
That this man there was born.
7 Both they who sing, and they who dance
With sacred Songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance
And all my fountains clear.
PSAL. LXXXVIII
1 LORD God that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long, before thee weep
Before thee prostrate lie.
2 Into thy presence let my praier
With sighs devout ascend
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.
3 For cloy'd with woes and trouble store
Surcharg'd my Soul doth lie, 10
My life at death's uncherful dore
Unto the grave draws nigh.
4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit
I am a *man, but weak alas * Heb. A man without manly
And for that name unfit. strength.
5 From life discharg'd and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep
And like the slain in bloody fight
That in the grave lie deep. 20
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver'd o're
Deaths hideous house hath barr'd.
6 Thou in the lowest pit profound
Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
7 Thy wrath from which no shelter saves
Full sore doth press on me; 30
*Thou break'st upon me all thy waves, *The Heb.
*And all thy waves break me bears both.
8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And mak'st me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.
9 Through sorrow, and affliction great
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread. 40
10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas'd arise
And praise thee from their loathsom bed
With pale and hollow eyes?
11 Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell
Thy faithfulness unfold?
12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known, 50
Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
13 But I to thee O Lord do cry
E're yet my life be spent,
And up to thee my praier doth hie
Each morn, and thee prevent.
14 Why wilt thou Lord my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me,
15 That am already bruis'd, and *shake *Heb. Prae Concussione.
With terror sent from thee; 60
Bruz'd, and afflicted and so low
As ready to expire,
While I thy terrors undergo
Astonish'd with thine ire.
16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow
Thy threatnings cut me through.
17 All day they round about me go,
Like waves they me persue.
18 Lover and friend thou hast remov'd
And sever'd from me far. 70
They fly me now whom I have lov'd,
And as in darkness are.
Finis.
COLLECTION OF PASSAGES TRANSLATED IN THE PROSE WRITINGS.
[From Of Reformation in England, 1641.]
Ah Constantine, of how much ill was cause
Not thy Conversion, but those rich demains
That the first wealthy Pope receiv'd of thee.
DANTE, Inf. xix. 115.
Founded in chast and humble Poverty,
'Gainst them that rais'd thee dost thou lift thy horn,
Impudent whoore, where hast thou plac'd thy hope?
In thy Adulterers, or thy ill got wealth?
Another Constantine comes not in hast.
PETRARCA, Son. 108.
And to be short, at last his guid him brings
Into a goodly valley, where he sees
A mighty mass of things strangely confus'd
Things that on earth were lost or were abus'd.
. . . . .
Then past he to a flowry Mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously;
This was that gift (if you the truth will have)
That Constantine to good Sylvestro gave.
ARIOSTO, Orl. Fur. xxxiv. 80.
[From Reason of Church Government, 1641.]
When I die, let the Earth be roul'd in flames.
[From Apology for Smectymnuus, 1642.]
Laughing to teach the truth
What hinders? as some teachers give to Boys
Junkets and knacks, that they may learne apace.
HORACE, Sat. 1. 24.
Jesting decides great things
Stronglier, and better oft than earnest can.
IBID. i. 10. 14.
'Tis you that say it, not I: you do the deeds
And your ungodly deeds find me the words.
SOPHOCLES, Elec. 624.
[From Areopagitica, 1644.]
This is true Liberty, when free-born Men,
Having to advise the Public, may speak free,
Which he who can, and will, deserv's high praise;
Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace,
What can be juster in a state then this?
EURIPIDES, Supp. 438
[From Tetrachordon, 1645.]
Whom do we count a good man, whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the Senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood
See his foul inside through his whited skin.
HORACE, Ep. i. 16. 40.
[From The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, 1649.]
There can be slaine
No sacrifice to God more acceptable
Than an unjust and wicked king.
SENECA, Herc. Fur. 922.
[From History of Britain, 1670.]
Brutus thus addresses Diana in the country of Leogecia.
Goddess of Shades, and Huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rowling Sphear, and through the deep,
On thy third Reign the Earth look now, and tell
What Land, what Seat of rest thou bidst me seek,
What certain Seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with Temples vow'd, and Virgin quires.
To whom sleeping before the altar, Diana in a Vision that night
thus answer'd.
Brutus far to the West, in th' Ocean wide
Beyond the Realm of Gaul, a Land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where Giants dwelt of old,
Now void, it fits thy People; thether bend
Thy course, there shalt thou find a lasting seat,
There to thy Sons another Troy shall rise,
And Kings be born of thee, whose dredded might
Shall aw the World, and conquer Nations bold.
Transcriber's Note: Title page of first (1667) edition of
Paradise Lost follows:
Paradise lost.
A
POEM
Written in
TEN BOOKS
By John Milton
------------------------------------------------------------
Licensed and Entred according
to Order
------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON.
Printed, and are to be sold by Peter Parker
under Creed Church neer Aldgate; And by
Robert Boulter at the Turk's head in Bishopsgate-street
And Matthias Walker, under St. Dunstan's Church
in Fleet-street, 1667.
Transcriber's Note: Title page of second (1674) edition of
Paradise Lost follows:
Paradise Lost.
A
POEM
IN
TWELVE BOOKS.
------------------------------------------------------------
The Author
JOHN MILTON.
------------------------------------------------------------
The Second Edition
Revised and Augmented by the
Same Author.
------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON.
Printed by S. Simmons next door to the
Golden Lion in Aldergate-street, 1674.
PARADISE LOST.
ON Paradise Lost.
WHEN I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
In slender Book his vast Design unfold,
Messiah Crown'd, Gods Reconcil'd Decree,
Rebelling Angels, the Forbidden Tree,
Heav'n, Hell, Earth, Chaos, All; the Argument
Held me a while misdoubting his Intent,
That he would ruine (for I saw him strong)
The sacred Truths to Fable and old Song
(So Sampson groap'd the Temples Posts in spight)
The World o'rewhelming to revenge his sight.
Yet as I read soon growing less severe,
I lik'd his Project, the success did fear;
Through that wide Field how he his way should find
O're which lame Faith leads Understanding blind;
Lest he perplex'd the things he would explain,
And what was easie he should render vain.
Or if a Work so infinite he spann'd,
Jealous I was that some less skilful hand
(Such as disquiet always what is well,
And by ill imitating would excell)
Might hence presume the whole Creations day
To change in Scenes, and show it in a Play.
Pardon me, Mighty Poet, nor despise
My causeless, yet not impious, surmise.
But I am now convinc'd, and none will dare
Within thy Labours to pretend a share,
Thou hast not miss'd one thought that could be fit,
And all that was improper dost omit:
So that no room is here for Writers left,
But to detect their Ignorance or Theft.
That Majesty which through thy Work doth Reign
Draws the Devout, deterring the Profane,
And things divine thou treatst of in such state
As them preserves, and thee, inviolate.
At once delight and horrour on us seise,
Thou singst with so much gravity and ease;
And above humane flight dost soar aloft
With Plume so strong, so equal, and so soft.
The Bird nam'd from that Paradise you sing
So never flaggs, but always keeps on Wing.
Where couldst thou words of such a compass find?
Whence furnish such a vast expence of mind?
Just Heav'n thee like Tiresias to requite
Rewards with Prophesie thy loss of sight.
Well mightst thou scorn thy Readers to allure
With tinkling Rhime, of thy own sense secure;
While the Town-Bayes writes all the while and spells,
And like a Pack-horse tires without his Bells:
Their Fancies like our Bushy-points appear,
The Poets tag them, we for fashion wear.
I too transported by the Mode offend,
And while I meant to Praise thee must Commend.
Thy Verse created like thy Theme sublime,
In Number, Weight, and Measure, needs not
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