whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, ow hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes, it on the green turf suck the honied show'rs, I purple all the ground with vernal flow'rs, the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, white-pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, glowing violet, musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, h cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, Ievery flow'r that sad embroidery wears: Amaranthus all his beauty shed, I daffadillies fill their cups with tears, strew the laureat hearse where Lycid' lies. so to interpose a little ease, our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. ine! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding

seas

sh far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, ether beyond the stormy Hebrides, ere thou perhaps under the whelming tide it'st the bottom of the monstrous world; whether thou, to our moist vows denied, p'st by the fable of Bellerus old, ere the great vision of the guarded mount ks tow'rd Namancos and Bayona's hold; k homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth: d, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth, Veep no more, woful shepherds, weep no Lycidas your sorrow is not dead; [more, k though he be beneath the wat'ry floor; sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

d

yet anon repairs his drooping head, d tricks his beams, and with new-spangled mes in the forehead of the morning sky; Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, rough the dear might of him that walk'd the

waves,

Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magic chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful pow'r o'er true virginity.
Do you believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of chastity?
Hence had the huntress Dian' her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith 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 o' th'

woods.

$9. Prowess of Body and Mind. MILTON OH how comely it is, and how reviving

To the spirits of just men, long oppress'd,
When God into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,

To quell the mighty of the earth, th' oppressor,
The brute and boist'rous force of violent men,
Hardy and industrious to support
Tyrannic pow'r, but raging to pursue
The righteous, and all such as honour trud!

He all their ammunition
And feats of war defeats;
With plain heroic magnitude of mind,
And celestial vigour arm'd,
Their armories and magazines contemns,

Renders them useless, while
With winged expedition,

What was the snaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,,,Swift as the lightning glance, he executes
Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd His errand on the wicked, who, surpris'd,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity, [stone, Lose their defence, distracted and amaz'd.

And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration, and blank awe?
So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and solemn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal: but when lust,
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lase
The divine property of her first being.
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp
Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres,
Ling'ring and sitting by a new-made grave,
As loth to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link itself by carnal sensuality
To a degenerate and degraded state.

§ 10. On Shakespeare. MILTON. WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honour"!

bones

The labour of an age in piled stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a starry-pointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory! great heir of fame!
What need'st thou such weak witness of the
Thou in our wonder and astonishment [name]
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouringat
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each beart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphie lines with deep impression took
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving
And so sepulchred in such pomp doth lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to de

§ 11. Song: on May Morning. -MILTON Now the bright morning star, day's harbir

ger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with bet
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throw
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 both boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

E-fed, and self-consumed: if this fail, pillar'd firmament is rottenness, earth's base built on stubble.

Invisible, except to God alone,

By his permissive will, thro' heaven and earth:
And oft tho' Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps
At Wisdom's gate, and to simplicity [ill
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no
Where no ill seems.

$13. Patience. MILTON.
ANY are the savings of the wise,
In ancient and in modern books inroll'd,
olling Patience as the truest fortitude;
to the bearing well of all calamities,
chances incident to man's frail life,
isolatories writ
[sought,
th studied argument, and much persuasion
dent of grief and anxious thought;

with th' afflicted, in his pangs, their sound Means her provision only to the good,
the prevails, or rather seems a tune
That live according to her sober laws,

[plaint;

gave,

sh, and of dissonant mood from his com-And holy dictate of spare Temperance: ess he feel within If every just man, that now pines with want. Had but a moderate and beseeming share Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, Nature's full blessings would be well dispens'd Sonnet: on his deccased Wife. MILTON. In unsuperfluous even proportion, ETHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint And she no whit encumber'd with her store, Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, And then the giver would be better thank'd, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, lescued from death by force, tho' pale and But with besotted, base ingratitude ne, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed Crams,and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on? Purification in the old law did save, [taint Or have I said enough? To him that dares and such, as yet once more I trust to have I sight of her in heaven without restraint, e vested all in white, pure as her mind : ler face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight ove, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd lear, as in no face with more delight. , oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, [might. ak'd, she fled, and day brought back my

[faint.

ie source of consolation from above,
et refreshings, that repair his strength,
I fainting spirits uphold.

I

$18. The Lady reproving Comus. MILTON. HATE when vice can bolt her arguments, And virtue 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,

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous
Against the sun-clad pow'r of Chastity, [words
Fain would I something say, yet to what end?
Thou hast not ear, nor soul to apprehend
The sublime notion, and high mystery
That must be utter'd to unfold the sage
And serious doctrine of Virginity, [know
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not
More happiness than this thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,
That have so well been taught her dazzling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinc'd;
Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence, [thize,
That dumb things would be mov'd to sympa
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and

shake,

Till all thy magic structures, rear'd so high,
Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head.

§ 19. Sonnet to the Nightingale. MILTON.

NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's 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 cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love; oh if Jove's will Have linked that amorous poweto thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

Foretel my hopeless doom in some grove nigh, As thou from year to year hast sung too late

For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: Whether the muse, or love call thee his inate, Both them I serve, and of their train am 1. §"2

§ 20. Echo: A Song. MILTON.

SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph! that liv'st un- H°

Within thy airy shell,

[seen
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-embroider'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?
Oh if thou have

Hid them in some flow'ry cave,
Tell me but where,.

Sweet queen of parley. daughter of the sphere!
So mayst thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heaven's har-

monies.

$22. Affections.

ow great a toil to stem the raging flood,
When beauty stirs the mass of youthful
blood!

When the swoln veins with circling torrents rise,
And softer passions speak thro' wishing eyes!
The voice of reason's drown'd; in vain it speaks,
When hasty anger dyes the gloomy cheeks;
And vengeful pride hurries the mortal on
To deels unheard, and cruelties unknown.

Then 'gan the Palmer thus: Most wretched
That to affections does the bridle lend: [man,
In their beginning they are weak and wan,
But soon, through suffrance, growe to fearfull
end;

[tend: Whiles they are weak, betimes with them conFor when they once to perfect strength do

growe,

VARIOUS DESCRIPTIONS FROM Strong warres they make, and cruel batt'ry bend

Bu

SPENSER.

§ 21. Adonis's Garden.

UT were it not that Time their troubler is,
All that in this delightful garden grows
Should happy be, and have immortal bliss:
For here all plenty and all pleasure flowes,
And sweet love gentle fits emongst them throws,
Without fell rancour, or fond jealousie ;
Frankly each paramour his leman knows,

Each bird his mate; ne any does envie
Their goodly merriment, and gay felicitie.

Right in the middest of that paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whoes round top
A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rise,
Whose shadie boughs sharp steele did never lop,)
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop ;

But, like a girlond compassed the hight, [drop.
And from their
sweet gumes did
That all the ground with precious dew bedight,
Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet
delight!

And, in the thickest covert in that shade, There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,

But of the trees own inclination made, Which knitting their ranke branches part to part, With wanton ivie-twine entail'd athwart,

And eglantine and caprisfole emoug, Fashion'd above within her inmost part,

That neither Phœbus' beams could thro' them throng,

Nor olus' sharp blast could work them any

'Gainst fort of reason, it to overthrowe: Wrath, jealousy, grief, love, this 'squire have laid thus lowe.

Wrath, jealousy, grief, love, do thus expell: Wrath is a fire, and jealousy a weed;

Grief is a flood, and love a monster fell; The fire of sparke, the weed of little seed, The flood of drops, the monster filth did breed

But sparks, seed, drops,and filth do thus decay The sparks soon quench, the springing seed our weed,

The drops dry up, and filth wipe clean awa So shall wrath, jealousy, grief, love, die and ce

To climb aloft, and others to excell;

Of griesly hew, and foul ill-favour'd sight; His face with smoake was tann'd, and eyes were blear'd';

head and beard with soot were ill bedight; His coale-black hands did seem to have been sear d [claws appear'd.

That was Ambition, rash desire to stie, And every link thereof a step of dignitie. Some thought to raise themselves to high de-His By riches and unrighteous reward; Some by close should'ring, some by flatteree; In [gree Others through friends, others for base reward; And all, by wrong ways, for themselves prepar'd. Those that were up themselves, kept others [lowe; Those that were lowe themselves, held others hard,

Ne suffer'd them to rise, or greater growe; But every one did strive his fellow down to throwe.

O sacred hunger of ambitious mindes,
And impotent desire of men to raigne!
Who neither dread of God, that devils bindes,
Nor laws of men, that common weals containe,
Nor bands of nature, that wild beasts restraine,
Can keep from outrage, and from doing wrong,
Where they may hope a kingdom to obtaine,
No faith so firm, no trust can be so strong,
No love so lasting then, that may enduren long.

§ 24. Anguish.

WHAT equal torment to the griefe of miude,
And pyning anguish hid in gentle heart,
That inly feeds itself with thoughts unkinde,
and nourisheth her own consuming smart?
What medicine can any leache's art
Yield such a sore, that doth her grievance hide,
and will to none her maladie impart.

§ 25. Arbour.

ND over him, art striveing to compaire With nature, did an arbour green disspred, Framed with wanton ivic, flowering fire, hro' which the fragrant eglantine did spred is pricking armes, entayl'd with roses red, Which dainty odours round about him threw and all within with flowres was garnished, That, when mild Zephyrus emongst them Did breathe out bounteous smells, and painted [colours shew.

blew,

§ 26. Avarice.

;

XD greedy Avarice by him did ride, Upon a camel loaden all with gold; Two iron coffers hung on either side, ith precious metall full as they might hold, nd in his lap a heap of coin he told; For of his wicked pelf his god he made, nd unto hell himself for money sold: Accursed usury was all his trade, nd right and wronge ylike in equall ballance [waide. At last he came into a gloomie glade, [light, over'd with boughs and shrubs from heaven's Whereas he sitting found, in secret shade, n uncouth, salvage, and uncivill wight,

smithe's fire-speting forge, and nails, like
His iron coat, all overgrown with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold,
Well it appear'd to have been of old
Whose glistring gloss, darkened with filthy
A work of rich entaile, and curious mould,
[dust,
Woven with anticks, and wild imagery;
And in his lap a mass of coine he told,

And turn'd up-side down, to feed his eye,
And covetous desire, with his huge treasury.
Great heaps of gold, that never could be spent ;
And round about him lay, on every side,
Of Muleiber's devouring element ;
Of which, some were ore not purifide
Some others were new driven, and distent

Some in round plates withouten monument;
Into great ingots, and to wedges square ;
But most were stampt,and in their metall bare
The antick shapes of kings and Cæsars strange

and rare.

$27. Bashfulness.
THE whiles, the fairie knight did entertaine
Another damsel of that gentle crew,

But that too oft she chang'd her native huc.
That was right faire, and modest of demaine,
Strange was her tire, and all her garments blue,
Close round about her tuckt, with many a
plight:

Upon her fist, the bird that shunneth view,
And keeps in coverts close from living wight,
Did sit, as if asham'd how rude Dan did her
dight.

So long as Guyon with her communed,
Unto the ground she cast her modest eye,

And ever and anone, with rosie red,'
And her became as polish'd ivorie,
The bashfull blood her snowy cheekes did die,

With fair vermillion, or pure lastery. [laid
Which cunning craftsman's hand hath over-

Great wonder had the knight to see the maid
So strangely passioned, and to her gently said;
Fair damsell, seemeth by your troubled cheare
That either me too bold yee weene, this wise

You to molest, or other ill to feare,
From whence it doth, as cloud from sea, arise.
That in the secret of your heart close lyes,

If it be I, of pardon I you pray;
But if ought else that I mote not devise,

I will (it please you it discrue) assay
She answer'd nought, but more abasht for
To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may.

shame,

Held down her head, the whiles her lovely face

The flushing blood with blushing did inflame, And the strong passion marr'd her modest grace,

That