The Poetical Works of John Milton 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 Letbian 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, lsis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis hast. 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'sharne 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 conie 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 ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ 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, 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 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 som there he 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 Hand 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 he 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 corn 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 heseeming 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 he 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 hiding 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 boast, 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 daintest 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 scare 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 he 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 he 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 vp 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 a part 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 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 fill 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 Philistims, 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 mere 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 lift 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 hide, 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: SAMSON AGONISTES, A DRAMATIC POEM. ------------------------------------------------------------ The Author JOHN MILTON ------------------------------------------------------------ Aristot. Poet. Cap. 6. Tragedia mimeis praxeos spadaias, &c. Tragedia est imitatio actionis seriae. &c. Per misericordiam & metum perficiens talium affectuum lustrationem. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ LONDON. Printed by J.M. for John Starkey at the Mitre in Fleetstreet, near Temple-Bar. MDCLXXI SAMSON AGONISTES Of that sort of Dramatic Poem which is call'd Tragedy. TRAGEDY, as it was antiently compos'd, hath been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other Poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and such like passions, that is to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirr'd up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion: for so in Physic things of melancholic hue and quality are us'd against melancholy, sowr against sowr, salt to remove salt humours. Hence Philosophers and other gravest Writers, as Cicero, Plutarch and others, frequently cite out of Tragic Poets, both to adorn and illustrate thir discourse. The Apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the Text of Holy Scripture, I Cor. 15. 33. and Paraeus commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole Book as a Tragedy, into Acts distinguisht each by a Chorus of Heavenly Harpings and Song between. Heretofore Men in highest dignity have labour'd not a little to be thought able to compose a Tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious, then before of his attaining to the Tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but unable to please his own judgment with what he had begun. left it unfinisht. Seneca the Philosopher is by some thought the Author of those Tragedies (at lest the best of them) that go under that name. Gregory Nazianzen a Father of the Church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a Tragedy which he entitl'd, Christ suffering. This is mention'd to vindicate Tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day with other common Interludes; hap'ning through the Poets error of intermixing Comic stuff with Tragic sadness and gravity; or introducing trivial and vulgar persons, which by all judicious hath bin counted absurd; and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratifie the people. And though antient Tragedy use no Prologue, yet using sometimes, in case of self defence, or explanation, that which Martial calls an Epistle; in behalf of this Tragedy coming forth after the antient manner, much different from what among us passes for best, thus much before-hand may be Epistl'd; that Chorus is here introduc'd after the Greek manner, not antient only but modern, and still in use among the Italians. In the modelling therefore of this Poem with good reason, the Antients and Italians are rather follow'd, as of much more authority and fame. The measure of Verse us'd in the Chorus is of all sorts, call'd by the Greeks Monostrophic, or rather Apolelymenon, without regard had to Strophe, Antistrophe or Epod, which were a kind of Stanza's fram'd only for the Music, then us'd with the Chorus that sung; not essential to the Poem, and therefore not material; or being divided into Stanza's or Pauses they may be call'd Allaeostropha. Division into Act and Scene referring chiefly to the Stage (to which this work never was intended) is here omitted. It suffices if the whole Drama be found not produc't beyond the fift Act, of the style and uniformitie, and that commonly call'd the Plot, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such oeconomy, or disposition of the fable as may stand best with verisimilitude and decorum; they only will best judge who are not unacquainted with Aeschulus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three Tragic Poets unequall'd yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavour to write Tragedy. The circumscription of time wherein the whole Drama begins and ends, is according to antient rule, and best example, within the space of 24 hours. The ARGUMENT. Samson made Captive, Blind, and now in the Prison at Gaza, there to labour as in a common work-house, on a Festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open Air, to a place nigh, somewhat retir'd there to sit a while and bemoan his condition. Where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, who seek to comfort him what they can ; then by his old Father Manoa, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ransom; lastly, that this Feast was proclaim'd by the Philistins as a day of Thanksgiving for thir deliverance from the hands of Samson, which yet more troubles him. Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian Lords for Samson's redemption; who in the mean while is visited by other persons; and lastly by a publick Officer to require coming to the Feast before the Lords and People, to play or shew his strength in thir presence; he at first refuses, dismissing the publick officer with absolute denyal to come; at length perswaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatnings to fetch him; the Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope, to procure e're long his Sons deliverance: in the midst of which discourse an Ebrew comes in haste confusedly at first; and afterward more distinctly relating the Catastrophe, what Samson had done to the Philistins, and by accident to himself; wherewith the Tragedy ends. The Persons Samson. Manoa the father of Samson. Dalila his wife. Harapha of Gath. Publick Officer. Messenger. Chorus of Danites The Scene before the Prison in Gaza. Sam: A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on; For yonder bank hath choice of Sun or shade, There I am wont to sit, when any chance Relieves me from my task of servile toyl, Daily in the common Prison else enjoyn'd me, Where I a Prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw The air imprison'd also, close and damp, Unwholsom draught: but here I feel amends, The breath of Heav'n fresh-blowing, pure and sweet, 10 With day-spring born; here leave me to respire. This day a solemn Feast the people hold To Dagon thir Sea-Idol, and forbid Laborious works, unwillingly this rest Thir Superstition yields me; hence with leave Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place to find some ease, Ease to the body some, none to the mind >From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm Of Hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, 20 But rush upon me thronging, and present Times past, what once I was, and what am now. O wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold Twice by an Angel, who at last in sight Of both my Parents all in flames ascended >From off the Altar, where an Off'ring burn'd, As in a fiery column charioting His Godlike presence, and from some great act Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race? Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd 30 As of a person separate to God, Design'd for great exploits; if I must dye Betray'd, Captiv'd, and both my Eyes put out, Made of my Enemies the scorn and gaze; To grind in Brazen Fetters under task With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious strength Put to the labour of a Beast, debas't Lower then bondslave! Promise was that I Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver; Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him 40 Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with slaves, Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke; Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt Divine Prediction; what if all foretold Had been fulfilld but through mine own default, Whom have I to complain of but my self? Who this high gift of strength committed to me, In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me, Under the Seal of silence could not keep, But weakly to a woman must reveal it 50 O'recome with importunity and tears. O impotence of mind, in body strong ! But what is strength without a double share Of wisdom, vast, unwieldy, burdensom, Proudly secure, yet liable to fall By weakest suttleties, not made to rule, But to subserve where wisdom bears command. God, when he gave me strength, to shew withal How slight the gift was, hung it in my Hair. But peace, I must not quarrel with the will 60 Of highest dispensation, which herein Happ'ly had ends above my reach to know: Suffices that to me strength is my bane, And proves the sourse of all my miseries; So many, and so huge, that each apart Would ask a life to wail, but chief of all, O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse then chains, Dungeon, or beggery, or decrepit age! Light the prime work of God to me is extinct, And all her various objects of delight Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd, Inferiour to the vilest now become Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, They creep, yet see, I dark in light expos'd To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, Within doors, or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more then half. O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 80 Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse Without all hope of day! O first created Beam, and thou great Word, Let there be light, and light was over all; Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree? The Sun to me is dark And silent as the Moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life, 90 And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the Soul, She all in every part; why was the sight To such a tender ball as th' eye confin'd? So obvious and so easie to be quench't, And not as feeling through all parts diffus'd, That she might look at will through every pore? Then had I not been thus exil'd from light; As in the land of darkness yet in light, To live a life half dead, a living death, 100 And buried; but O yet more miserable! My self, my Sepulcher, a moving Grave, Buried, yet not exempt By priviledge of death and burial >From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes. But who are these? for with joint pace I hear 110 The tread of many feet stearing this way; Perhaps my enemies who come to stare At my affliction, and perhaps to insult, Thir daily practice to afflict me more. Chor: This, this is he; softly a while, Let us not break in upon him; O change beyond report, thought, or belief! See how he lies at random, carelessly diffus'd, With languish't head unpropt, As one past hope, abandon'd 120 And by himself given over; In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds O're worn and soild; Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be hee, That Heroic, that Renown'd, Irresistible Samson? whom unarm'd No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast could withstand; Who tore the Lion, as the Lion tears the Kid, Ran on embattelld Armies clad in Iron, And weaponless himself, 130 Made Arms ridiculous, useless the forgery Of brazen shield and spear, the hammer'd Cuirass, Chalybean temper'd steel, and frock of mail Adamantean Proof; But safest he who stood aloof, When insupportably his foot advanc't, In scorn of thir proud arms and warlike tools, Spurn'd them to death by Troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his Lion ramp, old Warriors turn'd Thir plated backs under his heel; 140 Or grovling soild thir crested helmets in the dust. Then with what trivial weapon came to Hand, The Jaw of a dead Ass, his sword of bone, A thousand fore-skins fell, the flower of Palestin In Ramath-lechi famous to this day: Then by main force pull'd up, and on his shoulders bore The Gates of Azza, Post, and massie Bar Up to the Hill by Hebron, seat of Giants old, No journey of a Sabbath day, and loaded so; Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up Heav'n. 150 Which shall I first bewail, Thy Bondage or lost Sight, Prison within Prison Inseparably dark? Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!) The Dungeon of thy self; thy Soul (Which Men enjoying sight oft without cause complain) Imprison'd now indeed, In real darkness of the body dwells, Shut up from outward light 160 To incorporate with gloomy night; For inward light alas Puts forth no visual beam. O mirror of our fickle state, Since man on earth unparallel'd! The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fall'n. For him I reckon not in high estate 170 Whom long descent of birth Or the sphear of fortune raises; But thee whose strength, while vertue was her mate Might have subdu'd the Earth, Universally crown'd with highest praises. Sam: I hear the sound of words, thir sense the air Dissolves unjointed e're it reach my ear. Chor: Hee speaks, let us draw nigh. Matchless in might, The glory late of Israel, now the grief; We come thy friends and neighbours not unknown 180 >From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful Vale To visit or bewail thee, or if better, Counsel or Consolation we may bring, Salve to thy Sores, apt words have power to swage The tumors of a troubl'd mind, And are as Balm to fester'd wounds. Sam: Your coming, Friends, revives me, for I learn Now of my own experience, not by talk, How counterfeit a coin they are who friends Bear in their Superscription (of the most 190 I would be understood) in prosperous days They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head Not to be found, though sought. Wee see, O friends. How many evils have enclos'd me round; Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me, Blindness, for had I sight, confus'd with shame, How could I once look up, or heave the head, Who like a foolish Pilot have shipwrack't, My Vessel trusted to me from above, Gloriously rigg'd; and for a word, a tear, 200 Fool, have divulg'd the secret gift of God To a deceitful Woman : tell me Friends, Am I not sung and proverbd for a Fool In every street, do they not say, how well Are come upon him his deserts? yet why? Immeasurable strength they might behold In me, of wisdom nothing more then mean; This with the other should, at least, have paird, These two proportiond ill drove me transverse. Chor: Tax not divine disposal, wisest Men 210 Have err'd, and by bad Women been deceiv'd; And shall again, pretend they ne're so wise. Deject not then so overmuch thy self, Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides; Yet truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder Why thou shouldst wed Philistian women rather Then of thine own Tribe fairer, or as fair, At least of thy own Nation, and as noble. Sam: The first I saw at Timna, and she pleas'd Mee, not my Parents, that I sought to wed, 220 The daughter of an Infidel: they knew not That what I motion'd was of God; I knew >From intimate impulse, and therefore urg'd The Marriage on; that by occasion hence I might begin Israel's Deliverance, The work to which I was divinely call'd; She proving false, the next I took to Wife (O that I never had ! fond wish too late) Was in the Vale of Sorec, Dalila, That specious Monster, my accomplisht snare. 230 I thought it lawful from my former act, And the same end; still watching to oppress Israel's oppressours: of what now I suffer She was not the prime cause, but I my self, Who vanquisht with a peal of words (O weakness!) Gave up my fort of silence to a Woman. Chor: In seeking just occasion to provoke The Philistine, thy Countries Enemy, Thou never wast remiss, I hear thee witness: Yet Israel still serves with all his Sons. 240 Sam: That fault I take not on me, but transfer On Israel's Governours, and Heads of Tribes, Who seeing those great acts which God had done Singly by me against their Conquerours Acknowledg'd not, or not at all consider'd Deliverance offerd : I on th' other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds, The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the dooer; But they persisted deaf, and would not seem To count them things worth notice, till at length 250 Thir Lords the Philistines with gather'd powers Enterd Judea seeking mee, who then Safe to the rock of Etham was retir'd, Not flying, but fore-casting in what place To set upon them, what advantag'd best; Mean while the men of Judah to prevent The harrass of thir Land, beset me round; I willingly on some conditions came Into thir hands, and they as gladly yield me To the uncircumcis'd a welcom prey, 260 Bound with two cords; but cords to me were threds Toucht with the flame: on thir whole Host I flew Unarm'd, and with a trivial weapon fell'd Thir choicest youth; they only liv'd who fled. Had Judah that day join'd, or one whole Tribe, They had by this possess'd the Towers of Gath, And lorded over them whom now they serve; But what more oft in Nations grown corrupt, And by thir vices brought to servitude, Then to love Bondage more then Liberty, 270 Bondage with ease then strenuous liberty; And to despise, or envy, or suspect Whom God hath of his special favour rais'd As thir Deliverer; if he aught begin, How frequent to desert him, and at last To heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds? Chor: Thy words to my remembrance bring How Succoth and the Fort of Penuel Thir great Deliverer contemn'd, The matchless Gideon in pursuit 280 Of Madian and her vanquisht Kings; And how ingrateful Ephraim Not worse then by his shield and spear Had dealt with Jephtha, who by argument, Defended Israel from the Ammonite, Had not his prowess quell'd thir pride In that sore battel when so many dy'd Without Reprieve adjudg'd to death, For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth. Sam: Of such examples adde mee to the roul, 290 Mee easily indeed mine may neglect, But Gods propos'd deliverance not so. Chor: Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to Men; Unless there be who think not God at all, If any be, they walk obscure; For of such Doctrine never was there School, But the heart of the Fool, And no man therein Doctor but himself. Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just, 300 As to his own edicts, found contradicting, Then give the rains to wandring thought, Regardless of his glories diminution; Till by thir own perplexities involv'd They ravel more, still less resolv'd, But never find self-satisfying solution. As if they would confine th' interminable, And tie him to his own prescript, Who made our Laws to bind us, not himself, And hath full right to exempt 310 Whom so it pleases him by choice >From National obstriction, without taint Of sin, or legal debt; For with his own Laws he can best dispence. He would not else who never wanted means, Nor in respect of the enemy just cause To set his people free, Have prompted this Heroic Nazarite, Against his vow of strictest purity, To seek in marriage that fallacious Bride, 320 Unclean, unchaste. Down Reason then, at least vain reasonings down, Though Reason here aver That moral verdit quits her of unclean : Unchaste was subsequent, her stain not his. But see here comes thy reverend Sire With careful step, Locks white as doune, Old Manoah: advise Forthwith how thou oughtst to receive him. Sam: Ay me, another inward grief awak't, 330 With mention of that name renews th' assault. Man: Brethren and men of Dan, for such ye seem, Though in this uncouth place; if old respect, As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, My Son now Captive, hither hath inform'd Your younger feet, while mine cast back with age Came lagging after; say if he be here. Chor: As signal now in low dejected state, As earst in highest; behold him where be lies. Man: O miserable change! is this the man, 340 That invincible Samson, far renown'd, The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength Equivalent to Angels walk'd thir streets, None offering fight; who single combatant Duell'd thir Armies rank't in proud array, Himself an Army, now unequal match To save himself against a coward arm'd At one spears length. O ever failing trust In mortal strength! and oh what not in man Deceivable and vain! Nay what thing good 350 Pray'd for, but often proves our woe, our bane? I pray'd for Children, and thought barrenness In wedlock a reproach; I gain'd a Son, And such a Son as all Men hail'd me happy; Who would be now a Father in my stead? O wherefore did God grant me my request, And as a blessing with such pomp adorn'd? Why are his gifts desirable, to tempt Our earnest Prayers, then giv'n with solemn hand As Graces, draw a Scorpions tail behind? 360 For this did the Angel twice descend? for this Ordain'd thy nurture holy, as of a Plant; Select, and Sacred, Glorious for a while, The miracle of men: then in an hour Ensnar'd, assaulted, overcome, led bound, Thy Foes derision, Captive, Poor, and Blind Into a Dungeon thrust, to work with Slaves? Alas methinks whom God hath chosen once To worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err, He should not so o'rewhelm, and as a thrall 370 Subject him to so foul indignities, Be it but for honours sake of former deeds. Sam: Appoint not heavenly disposition, Father, Nothing of all these evils hath befall'n me But justly; I my self have brought them on, Sole Author I, sole cause: if aught seem vile, As vile hath been my folly, who have profan'd The mystery of God giv'n me under pledge Of vow, and have betray'd it to a woman, A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. 380 This well I knew, nor was at all surpris'd, But warn'd by oft experience: did not she Of Timna first betray me, and reveal The secret wrested from me in her highth Of Nuptial Love profest, carrying it strait To them who had corrupted her, my Spies, And Rivals? In this other was there found More Faith? who also in her prime of love, Spousal embraces, vitiated with Gold, Though offer'd only, by the sent conceiv'd 390 Her spurious first-born; Treason against me? Thrice she assay'd with flattering prayers and sighs, And amorous reproaches to win from me My capital secret, in what part my strength Lay stor'd in what part summ'd, that she might know: Thrice I deluded her, and turn'd to sport Her importunity, each time perceiving How openly, and with what impudence She purpos'd to betray me, and (which was worse Then undissembl'd hate) with what contempt 400 She sought to make me Traytor to my self; Yet the fourth time, when mustring all her wiles, With blandisht parlies, feminine assaults, Tongue-batteries, she surceas'd not day nor night To storm me over-watch't, and wearied out. At times when men seek most repose and rest, I yielded, and unlock'd her all my heart, Who with a grain of manhood well resolv'd Might easily have shook off all her snares : But foul effeminacy held me yok't 410 Her Bond-slave; O indignity, O blot To Honour and Religion! servil mind Rewarded well with servil punishment! The base degree to which I now am fall'n, These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base As was my former servitude, ignoble, Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, True slavery, and that blindness worse then this, That saw not how degeneratly I serv'd. Man: I cannot praise thy Marriage choises, Son, 420 Rather approv'd them not; but thou didst plead Divine impulsion prompting how thou might'st Find some occasion to infest our Foes. I state not that; this I am sure; our Foes Found soon occasion thereby to make thee Thir Captive, and thir triumph; thou the sooner Temptation found'st, or over-potent charms To violate the sacred trust of silence Deposited within thee; which to have kept Tacit, was in thy power; true; and thou hear'st 430 Enough, and more the burden of that fault; Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains, This day the Philistines a popular Feast Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim Great Pomp, and Sacrifice, and Praises loud To Dagon, as their God who hath deliver'd Thee Samson bound and blind into thir hands, Them out of thine, who slew'st them many a slain. So Dagon shall be magnifi'd, and God, 440 Besides whom is no God, compar'd with Idols, Disglorifi'd, blasphem'd, and had in scorn By th' Idolatrous rout amidst thir wine; Which to have come to pass by means of thee, Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, Of all reproach the most with shame that ever Could have befall'n thee and thy Fathers house. Sam: Father, I do acknowledge and confess That I this honour, I this pomp have brought To Dagon, and advanc'd his praises high 450 Among the Heathen round; to God have brought Dishonour, obloquie, and op't the mouths Of Idolists, and Atheists; have brought scandal To Israel diffidence of God, and doubt In feeble hearts, propense anough before To waver, or fall off and joyn with Idols: Which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow, The anguish of my Soul, that suffers not Mine eie to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest. This only hope relieves me, that the strife 460 With me hath end; all the contest is now 'Twixt God and Dagon; Dagon hath presum'd, Me overthrown, to enter lists with God, His Deity comparing and preferring Before the God of Abraham. He, he sure, Will not connive, or linger, thus provok'd, But will arise and his great name assert: Dagon must stoop, and shall e're long receive Such a discomfit, as shall quite despoil him Of all these boasted Trophies won on me, 470 And with confusion blank his Worshippers. Man: With cause this hope relieves thee, and these words I as a Prophecy receive: for God, Nothing more certain, will not long defer To vindicate the glory of his name Against all competition, nor will long Endure it, doubtful whether God be Lord, Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done? Thou must not in the mean while here forgot Lie in this miserable loathsom plight 480 Neglected. I already have made way To some Philistian Lords, with whom to treat About thy ransom: well they may by this Have satisfi'd thir utmost of revenge By pains and slaveries, worse then death inflicted On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. Sam: Spare that proposal, Father, spare the trouble Of that sollicitation; let me here, As I deserve, pay on my punishment; And expiate, if possible, my crime, 490 Shameful garrulity. To have reveal'd Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend, How hainous had the fact been, how deserving Contempt, and scorn of all, to be excluded All friendship, and avoided as a blab, The mark of fool set on his front? But I Gods counsel have not kept, his holy secret Presumptuously have publish'd, impiously, Weakly at least, and shamefully: A sin That Gentiles in thir Parables condemn 500 To thir abyss and horrid pains confin'd. Man: Be penitent and for thy fault contrite, But act not in thy own affliction, Son, Repent the sin, but if the punishment Thou canst avoid, selfpreservation bids; Or th' execution leave to high disposal, And let another hand, not thine, exact Thy penal forfeit from thy self; perhaps God will relent, and quit thee all his debt; Who evermore approves and more accepts 510 (Best pleas'd with humble and filial submission) Him who imploring mercy sues for life, Then who selfrigorous chooses death as due; Which argues overjust, and self-displeas'd For self-offence, more then for God offended. Reject not then what offerd means, who knows But God hath set before us, to return thee Home to thy countrey and his sacred house, Where thou mayst bring thy off'rings, to avert His further ire, with praiers and vows renew'd. 520 Sam: His pardon I implore; but as for life, To what end should I seek it? when in strength All mortals I excell'd, and great in hopes With youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts Of birth from Heav'n foretold and high exploits, Full of divine instinct, after some proof Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond The Sons of Anac, famous now and blaz'd, Fearless of danger, like a petty God I walk'd about admir'd of all and dreaded 530 On hostile ground, none daring my affront. Then swoll'n with pride into the snare I fell Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains, Softn'd with pleasure and voluptuous life; At length to lay my head and hallow'd pledge Of all my strength in the lascivious lap Of a deceitful Concubine who shore me Like a tame Weather, all my precious fleece, Then turn'd me out ridiculous, despoil'd, Shav'n, and disarm'd among my enemies. 540 Chor. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks, Which many a famous Warriour overturns, Thou couldst repress, nor did the dancing Rubie Sparkling; out-pow'rd, the flavor, or the smell, Or taste that cheers the heart of Gods and men, Allure thee from the cool Crystalline stream. Sam. Where ever fountain or fresh current flow'd Against the Eastern ray, translucent, pure, With touch aetherial of Heav'ns fiery rod I drank, from the clear milkie juice allaying 550 Thirst, and refresht; nor envy'd them the grape Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. Chor. O madness, to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbid'n made choice to rear His mighty Champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook. Sam. But what avail'd this temperance, not compleat Against another object more enticing? What boots it at one gate to make defence, 560 And at another to let in the foe Effeminatly vanquish't? by which means, Now blind, disheartn'd, sham'd, dishonour'd, quell'd, To what can I be useful, wherein serve My Nation, and the work from Heav'n impos'd, But to sit idle on the houshold hearth, A burdenous drone; to visitants a gaze, Or pitied object, these redundant locks Robustious to no purpose clustring down, Vain monument of strength; till length of years 570 And sedentary numness craze my limbs To a contemptible old age obscure. Here rather let me drudge and earn my bread, Till vermin or the draff of servil food Consume me, and oft-invocated death Hast'n the welcom end of all my pains. Man. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift Which was expresly giv'n thee to annoy them? Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle, Inglorious, unimploy'd, with age out-worn. 580 But God who caus'd a fountain at thy prayer >From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay After the brunt of battel, can as easie Cause light again within thy eies to spring, Wherewith to serve him better then thou hast; And I perswade me so; why else this strength Miraculous yet remaining in those locks? His might continues in thee not for naught, Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. Sam: All otherwise to me my thoughts portend, 590 That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, Nor th' other light of life continue long, But yield to double darkness nigh at hand: So much I feel my genial spirits droop, My hopes all flat, nature within me seems In all her functions weary of herself; My race of glory run, and race of shame, And I shall shortly be with them that rest. Man. Believe not these suggestions which proceed >From anguish of the mind and humours black, 600 That mingle with thy fancy. I however Must not omit a Fathers timely care To prosecute the means of thy deliverance By ransom or how else: mean while be calm, And healing words from these thy friends admit. Sam. O that torment should not be confin'd To the bodies wounds and sores With maladies innumerable In heart, head, brest, and reins; But must secret passage find 610 To th' inmost mind, There exercise all his fierce accidents, And on her purest spirits prey, As on entrails, joints, and limbs, With answerable pains, but more intense, 'Though void of corporal sense. My griefs not only pain me As a lingring disease, But finding no redress, ferment and rage, Nor less then wounds immedicable 620 Ranckle, and fester, and gangrene, To black mortification. Thoughts my Tormenters arm'd with deadly stings Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise Dire inflammation which no cooling herb Or rnedcinal liquor can asswage, Nor breath of Vernal Air from snowy Alp. Sleep hath forsook and giv'n me o're To deaths benumming Opium as my only cure. 630 Thence faintings, swounings of despair, And sense of Heav'ns desertion. I was his nursling once and choice delight, His destin'd from the womb, Promisd by Heavenly message twice descending. Under his special eie Abstemious I grew up and thriv'd amain; He led me on to mightiest deeds Above the nerve of mortal arm Against the uncircumcis'd, our enemies. 640 But now hath cast me off as never known, And to those cruel enemies, Whom I by his appointment had provok't, Left me all helpless with th' irreparable loss Of sight, reserv'd alive to be repeated The subject of thir cruelty, or scorn. Nor am I in the list of them that hope; Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless; This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, No long petition, speedy death, 650 The close of all my miseries, and the balm. Chor: Many are the sayings of the wise In antient and in modern books enroll'd; Extolling Patience as the truest fortitude; And to the bearing well of all calamities, All chances incident to mans frail life Consolatories writ With studied argument, and much perswasion sought Lenient of grief and anxious thought, But with th' afflicted in his pangs thir sound 680 Little prevails, or rather seems a tune, Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint, Unless he feel within Some sourse of consolation from above; Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, And fainting spirits uphold. God of our Fathers, what is man! That thou towards him with hand so various, Or might I say contrarious, Temperst thy providence through his short course, 670 Not evenly, as thou rul'st The Angelic orders and inferiour creatures mute, Irrational and brute. Nor do I name of men the common rout, That wandring loose about Grow up and perish, as the summer flie, Heads without name no more rememberd, But such as thou hast solemnly elected, With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd To some great work, thy glory, 680 And peoples safety, which in part they effect: Yet toward these thus dignifi'd, thou oft Amidst thir highth of noon, Changest thy countenance, and thy hand with no regard Of highest favours past >From thee on them, or them to thee of service. Nor only dost degrade them, or remit To life obscur'd, which were a fair dismission, But throw'st them lower then thou didst exalt them high, Unseemly falls in human eie, 690 Too grievous for the trespass or omission, Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword Of Heathen and prophane, thir carkasses To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captiv'd: Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, And condemnation of the ingrateful multitude. If these they scape, perhaps in poverty With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down, Painful diseases and deform'd, 700 In crude old age; Though not disordinate, yet causless suffring The punishment of dissolute days, in fine, Just or unjust, alike seem miserable, For oft alike, both come to evil end. So deal not with this once thy glorious Champion, The Image of thy strength, and mighty minister. What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already? Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. But who is this, what thing of Sea or Land? 710 Femal of sex it seems, That so bedeckt, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately Ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' Isles Of Javan or Gadier With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, An Amber sent of odorous perfume 720 Her harbinger, a damsel train behind; Some rich Philistian Matron she may seem, And now at nearer view, no other certain Than Dalila thy wife. Sam: My Wife, my Traytress, let her not come near me. Cho: Yet on she moves, now stands & eies thee fixt, About t'have spoke, but now, with head declin'd Like a fair flower surcharg'd with dew, she weeps And words addrest seem into tears dissolv'd, Wetting the borders of her silk'n veil: 730 But now again she makes address to speak. Dal: With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, Which to have merited, without excuse, I cannot but acknowledge; yet if tears May expiate (though the fact more evil drew In the perverse event then I foresaw) My penance hath not slack'n'd, though my pardon No way assur'd. But conjugal affection Prevailing over fear, and timerous doubt 740 Hath led me on desirous to behold Once more thy face, and know of thy estate. If aught in my ability may serve To light'n what thou suffer'st, and appease Thy mind with what amends is in my power, Though late, yet in some part to recompense My rash but more unfortunate misdeed. Sam: Out, out Hyaena; these are thy wonted arts, And arts of every woman false like thee, To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray, 750 Then as repentant to submit, beseech, And reconcilement move with feign'd remorse, Confess, and promise wonders in her change, Not truly penitent, but chief to try Her husband, how far urg'd his patience bears, His vertue or weakness which way to assail: Then with more cautious and instructed skill Again transgresses, and again submits; That wisest and best men full oft beguil'd With goodness principl'd not to reject 760 The penitent, but ever to forgive, Are drawn to wear out miserable days, Entangl'd with a poysnous bosom snake, If not by quick destruction soon cut off As I by thee, to Ages an example. Dal: Yet hear me Samson; not that I endeavour To lessen or extenuate my offence, But that on th' other side if it be weigh'd By it self, with aggravations not surcharg'd, Or else with just allowance counterpois'd 770 I may, if possible, thy pardon find The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. First granting, as I do, it was a weakness In me, but incident to all our sex, Curiosity, inquisitive, importune Of secrets, then with like infirmity To publish them, both common female faults: Was it not weakness also to make known For importunity, that is for naught, Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety? 780 To what I did thou shewdst me first the way. But I to enemies reveal'd, and should not. Nor shouldst thou have trusted that to womans frailty E're I to thee, thou to thy self wast cruel. Let weakness then with weakness come to parl So near related, or the same of kind, Thine forgive mine; that men may censure thine The gentler, if severely thou exact not More strength from me, then in thy self was found. And what if Love, which thou interpret'st hate, 790 The jealousie of Love, powerful of sway In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee, Caus'd what I did? I saw thee mutable Of fancy, feard lest one day thou wouldst leave me As her at Timna, sought by all means therefore How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest: No better way I saw then by importuning To learn thy secrets, get into my power Thy key of strength and safety: thou wilt say, Why then reveal'd? I was assur'd by those 800 Who tempted me, that nothing was design'd Against thee but safe custody, and hold: That made for me, I knew that liberty Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises, While I at home sate full of cares and fears Wailing thy absence in my widow'd bed; Here I should still enjoy thee day and night Mine and Loves prisoner, not the Philistines, Whole to my self, unhazarded abroad, Fearless at home of partners in my love. 810 These reasons in Loves law have past for good, Though fond and reasonless to some perhaps: And Love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much wo, Yet always pity or pardon hath obtain'd. Be not unlike all others, not austere As thou art strong, inflexible as steel. If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, In uncompassionate anger do not so. Sam: How cunningly the sorceress displays Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine! 820 That malice not repentance brought thee hither, By this appears : I gave, thou say'st, th' example, I led the way; bitter reproach, but true, I to my self was false e're thou to me, Such pardon therefore as I give my folly, Take to thy wicked deed: which when thou seest Impartial, self-severe, inexorable, Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather Confess it feign'd, weakness is thy excuse, And I believe it, weakness to resist 830 Philistian gold: if weakness may excuse, What Murtherer, what Traytor, Parricide, Incestuous, Sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness : that plea therefore With God or Man will gain thee no remission. But Love constrain'd thee; call it furious rage To satisfie thy lust: Love seeks to have Love; My love how couldst thou hope, who tookst the way To raise in me inexpiable hate, Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betray'd ? 840 In vain thou striv'st to cover shame with shame, Or by evasions thy crime uncoverst more. Dal: Since thou determinst weakness for no plea In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides, What sieges girt me round, e're I consented; Which might have aw'd the best resolv'd of men, The constantest to have yielded without blame. It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st, That wrought with me: thou know'st the Magistrates 850 And Princes of my countrey came in person, Sollicited, commanded, threatn'd, urg'd, Adjur'd by all the bonds of civil Duty And of Religion, press'd how just it was, How honourable, how glorious to entrap A common enemy, who had destroy'd Such numbers of our Nation : and the Priest Was not behind, but ever at my ear, Preaching how meritorious with the gods It would be to ensnare an irreligious 860 Dishonourer of Dagon : what had I To oppose against such powerful arguments? Only my love of thee held long debate; And combated in silence all these reasons With hard contest: at length that grounded maxim So rife and celebrated in the mouths Of wisest men; that to the public good Private respects must yield; with grave authority' Took full possession of me and prevail'd; Vertue, as I thought, truth, duty so enjoyning. 870 Sam: I thought where all thy circling wiles would end; In feign'd Religion, smooth hypocrisie. But had thy love, still odiously pretended, Bin, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. I before all the daughters of my Tribe And of my Nation chose thee from among My enemies, lov'd thee, as too well thou knew'st, Too well, unbosom'd all my secrets to thee, Not out of levity, but over-powr'd 880 By thy request, who could deny thee nothing; Yet now am judg'd an enemy. Why then Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband? Then, as since then, thy countries foe profest: Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave Parents and countrey; nor was I their subject, Nor under their protection but my own, Thou mine, not theirs: if aught against my life Thy countrey sought of thee, it sought unjustly, Against the law of nature, law of nations, 890 No more thy countrey, but an impious crew Of men conspiring to uphold thir state By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends For which our countrey is a name so dear; Not therefore to be obey'd. But zeal mov'd thee; To please thy gods thou didst it; gods unable To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction Of their own deity, Gods cannot be: Less therefore to be pleas'd, obey'd, or fear'd, 900 These false pretexts and varnish'd colours failing, Bare in thy guilt how foul must thou appear? Dal: In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. Sam: For want of words no doubt, or lack of breath, Witness when I was worried with thy peals. Dal: I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken In what I thought would have succeeded best. Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson, Afford me place to shew what recompence 910 Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone, Misguided: only what remains past cure Bear not too sensibly, nor still insist To afflict thy self in vain: though sight be lost, Life yet hath many solaces, enjoy'd Where other senses want not their delights At home in leisure and domestic ease, Exempt from many a care and chance to which Eye-sight exposes daily men abroad. I to the Lords will intercede, not doubting 920 Thir favourable ear, that I may fetch thee >From forth this loathsom prison-house, to abide With me, where my redoubl'd love and care With nursing diligence, to me glad office, May ever tend about thee to old age With all things grateful chear'd, and so suppli'd, That what by me thou hast lost thou least shalt miss. Sam: No, no, of my condition take no care; It fits not; thou and I long since are twain; Nor think me so unwary or accurst 930 To bring my feet again into the snare Where once I have been caught; I know thy trains Though dearly to my cost, thy ginns, and toyls; Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charms No more on me have power, their force is null'd, So much of Adders wisdom I have learn't To fence my ear against thy sorceries. If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men Lov'd, honour'd, fear'd me, thou alone could hate me Thy Husband, slight me, sell me, and forgo me; 940 How wouldst thou use me now, blind, and thereby Deceiveable, in most things as a child Helpless, thence easily contemn'd, and scorn'd, And last neglected? How wouldst thou insult When I must live uxorious to thy will In perfet thraldom, how again betray me, Bearing my words and doings to the Lords To gloss upon, and censuring, frown or smile? This Gaol I count the house of Liberty To thine whose doors my feet shall never enter. 950 Dal: Let me approach at least, and touch thy hand. Sam: Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint. At distance I forgive thee, go with that; Bewail thy falshood, and the pious works It hath brought forth to make thee memorable Among illustrious women, faithful wives: Cherish thy hast'n'd widowhood with the gold Of Matrimonial treason: so farewel. Dal: I see thou art implacable, more deaf 960 To prayers, then winds and seas, yet winds to seas Are reconcil'd at length, and Sea to Shore: Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, Eternal tempest never to be calm'd. Why do I humble thus my self, and suing For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate? Bid go with evil omen and the brand Of infamy upon my name denounc't? To mix with thy concernments I desist Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. 970 Fame if not double-fac't is double-mouth'd, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds, On both his wings, one black, th' other white, Bears greatest names in his wild aerie flight. My name perhaps among the Circumcis'd In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering Tribes, To all posterity may stand defam'd, With malediction mention'd, and the blot Of falshood most unconjugal traduc't. But in my countrey where I most desire, 980 In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath I shall be nam'd among the famousest Of Women, sung at solemn festivals, Living and dead recorded, who to save Her countrey from a fierce destroyer, chose Above the faith of wedlock-bands, my tomb With odours visited and annual flowers. Not less renown'd then in Mount Ephraim, Jael who with inhospitable guile Smote Sisera sleeping through the Temples nail'd. 990 Nor shall I count it hainous to enjoy The public marks of honour and reward Conferr'd upon me, for the piety Which to my countrey I was judg'd to have shewn. At this who ever envies or repines I leave him to his lot, and like my own. Chor: She's gone, a manifest Serpent by her sting Discover'd in the end, till now conceal'd. Sam: So let her go, God sent her to debase me, And aggravate my folly who committed 1000 To such a viper his most sacred trust Of secresie, my safety, and my life. Chor: Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possest, nor can be easily Repuls't, without much inward passion felt And secret sting of amorous remorse. Sam: Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end, Not wedlock-trechery endangering life. Chor: It is not vertue, wisdom, valour, wit, 1010 Strength, comliness of shape, or amplest merit That womans love can win or long inherit; But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit, (Which way soever men refer it) Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day Or seven, though one should musing sit; If any of these or all, the Timnian bride Had not so soon preferr'd Thy Paranymph, worthless to thee compar'd, 1020 Successour in thy bed, Nor both so loosly disally'd Thir nuptials, nor this last so trecherously Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. Is it for that such outward ornament Was lavish't on thir Sex, that inward gifts Were left for hast unfinish't, judgment scant, Capacity not rais'd to apprehend Or value what is best In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong? 1030 Or was too much of self-love mixt, Of constancy no root infixt, That either they love nothing, or not long? What e're it be, to wisest men and best Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil, Soft, modest, meek, demure, Once join'd, the contrary she proves, a thorn Intestin, far within defensive arms A cleaving mischief, in his way to vertue Adverse and turbulent, or by her charms 1040 Draws him awry enslav'd With dotage, and his sense deprav'd To folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends. What Pilot so expert but needs must wreck Embarqu'd with such a Stears-mate at the Helm? Favour'd of Heav'n who finds One vertuous rarely found, That in domestic good combines: Happy that house! his way to peace is smooth: But vertue which breaks through all opposition, 1050 And all temptation can remove, Most shines and most is acceptable above. Therefore Gods universal Law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Nor from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lowre: So shall he least confusion draw On his whole life, not sway'd By female usurpation, nor dismay'd. 1060 But had we best retire, I see a storm? Sam: Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain. Chor: But this another kind of tempest brings. Sam: Be less abstruse, my riddling days are past. Chor: Look now for no inchanting voice, nor fear The bait of honied words; a rougher tongue Draws hitherward, I know him by his stride, The Giant Harapha of Gath, his look Haughty as is his pile high-built and proud. Comes he in peace? what wind hath blown him hither 1070 I less conjecture then when first I saw The sumptuous Dalila floating this way: His habit carries peace, his brow defiance. Sam: Or peace or not, alike to me he comes. Chor: His fraught we soon shall know, he now arrives. Har: I come not Samson, to condole thy chance, As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been, Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath, Men call me Harapha, of stock renown'd As Og or Anak and the Emims old 1080 That Kiriathaim held, thou knowst me now If thou at all art known. Much I have heard Of thy prodigious might and feats perform'd Incredible to me, in this displeas'd, That I was never present on the place Of those encounters, where we might have tri'd Each others force in camp or listed field: And now am come to see of whom such noise Hath walk'd about, and each limb to survey, If thy appearance answer loud report. 1090 Sam: The way to know were not to see but taste. Har: Dost thou already single me; I thought Gives and the Mill had tam'd thee? O that fortune Had brought me to the field where thou art fam'd To have wrought such wonders with an Asses Jaw; I should have forc'd thee soon with other arms, Or left thy carkass where the Ass lay thrown: So had the glory of Prowess been recover'd To Palestine, won by a Philistine >From the unforeskinn'd race, of whom thou hear'st 1100 The highest name for valiant Acts, that honour Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. Sam: Boast not of what thou wouldst have done, but do What then thou would'st, thou seest it in thy hand. Har: To combat with a blind man I disdain And thou hast need much washing to be toucht. Sam: Such usage as your honourable Lords Afford me assassinated and betray'd, Who durst not with thir whole united powers 1110 In fight withstand me single and unarm'd, Nor in the house with chamber Ambushes Close-banded durst attaque me, no not sleeping, Till they had hir'd a woman with their gold Breaking her Marriage Faith to circumvent me. Therefore without feign'd shifts let be assign'd Some narrow place enclos'd, where sight may give thee. Or rather flight, no great advantage on me; Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy Helmet And Brigandine of brass, thy broad Habergeon. 1120 Vant-brass and Greves, and Gauntlet, add thy Spear A Weavers beam, and seven-times-folded shield. I only with an Oak'n staff will meet thee, And raise such out-cries on thy clatter'd Iron, Which long shall not with-hold mee from thy head, That in a little time while breath remains thee, Thou oft shalt wish thy self at Gath to boast Again in safety what thou wouldst have done To Samson, but shalt never see Gath more. Har: Thou durst not thus disparage glorious arms 1130 Which greatest Heroes have in battel worn, Thir ornament and safety, had not spells And black enchantments, some Magicians Art Arm'd thee or charm'd thee strong, which thou from Heaven Feigndst at thy birth was giv'n thee in thy hair, Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs Were bristles rang'd like those that ridge the back Of chaf't wild Boars, or ruffl'd Porcupines. Sam: I know no Spells, use no forbidden Arts; My trust is in the living God who gave me 1140 At my Nativity this strength, diffus'd No less through all my sinews, joints and bones, Then thine, while I preserv'd these locks unshorn, The pledge of my unviolated vow. For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god, Go to his Temple, invocate his aid With solemnest devotion, spread before him How highly it concerns his glory now To frustrate and dissolve these Magic spells, Which I to be the power of Israel's God 1150 Avow, and challenge Dagon to the test, Offering to combat thee his Champion bold, With th' utmost of his Godhead seconded: Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow Soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine. Har: Presume not on thy God, what e're he be, Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off Quite from his people, and delivered up Into thy Enemies hand, permitted them To put out both thine eyes, and fetter'd send thee 1160 Into the common Prison, there to grind Among the Slaves and Asses thy comrades, As good for nothing else, no better service With those, thy boyst'rous locks, no worthy match For valour to assail, nor by the sword Of noble Warriour, so to stain his honour, But by the Barbers razor best subdu'd. Sam: All these indignities, for such they are >From thine, these evils I deserve and more, Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me 1170 Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon Whose ear is ever open; and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant; In confidence whereof I once again Defie thee to the trial of mortal fight, By combat to decide whose god is God, Thine or whom I with Israel's Sons adore. Har: Fair honour that thou dost thy God, in trusting He will accept thee to defend his cause, A Murtherer, a Revolter, and a Robber. 1180 Sam: Tongue-doubtie Giant, how dost thou prove me these? Har: Is not thy Nation subject to our Lords? Thir Magistrates confest it, when they took thee As a League-breaker and deliver'd bound Into our hands: for hadst thou not committed Notorious murder on those thirty men At Askalon, who never did thee harm, Then like a Robber stripdst them of thir robes? The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league, Went up with armed powers thee only seeking, 1190 To others did no violence nor spoil. Sam: Among the Daughters of the Philistines I chose a Wife, which argu'd me no foe; And in your City held my Nuptial Feast: But your ill-meaning Politician Lords, Under pretence of Bridal friends and guests, Appointed to await me thirty spies, Who threatning cruel death constrain'd the bride To wring from me and tell to them my secret, That solv'd the riddle which I had propos'd. 1200 When I perceiv'd all set on enmity, As on my enemies, where ever chanc'd, I us'd hostility, and took thir spoil To pay my underminers in thir coin. My Nation was subjected to your Lords. It was the force of Conquest; force with force Is well ejected when the Conquer'd can. But I a private person, whom my Countrey As a league-breaker gave up bound, presum'd Single Rebellion and did Hostile Acts. 1210 I was no private but a person rais'd With strength sufficient and command from Heav'n To free my Countrey; if their servile minds Me their Deliverer sent would not receive, But to thir Masters gave me up for nought, Th' unworthier they; whence to this day they serve. I was to do my part from Heav'n assign'd, And had perform'd it if my known offence Had not disabl'd me, not all your force: These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant 1220 Though by his blindness maim'd for high attempts, Who now defies thee thrice to single fight, As a petty enterprise of small enforce. Har: With thee a Man condemn'd, a Slave enrol'd, Due by the Law to capital punishment? To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. Sam: Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to survey me, To descant on my strength, and give thy verdit? Come nearer, part not hence so slight inform'd; But take good heed my hand survey not thee. 1230 Har: O Baal-zebub! can my ears unus'd Hear these dishonours, and not render death? Sam: No man with-holds thee, nothing from thy hand Fear I incurable; bring up thy van, My heels are fetter'd, but my fist is free. Har: This insolence other kind of answer fits. Sam: Go baffl'd coward, lest I run upon thee, Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, And with one buffet lay thy structure low, Or swing thee in the Air, then dash thee down 1240 To the hazard of thy brains and shatter'd sides. Har: By Astaroth e're long thou shalt lament These braveries in Irons loaden on thee. Chor: His Giantship is gone somewhat crestfall'n, Stalking with less unconsci'nable strides, And lower looks, but in a sultrie chafe. Sam: I dread him not, nor all his Giant-brood, Though Fame divulge him Father of five Sons All of Gigantic size, Goliah chief. Chor: He will directly to the Lords, I fear, 1250 And with malitious counsel stir them up Some way or other yet further to afflict thee. Sam: He must allege some cause, and offer'd fight Will not dare mention, lest a question rise Whether he durst accept the offer or not, And that he durst not plain enough appear'd. Much more affliction then already felt They cannot well impose, nor I sustain; If they intend advantage of my labours The work of many hands, which earns my keeping 1260 With no small profit daily to my owners. But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence, The worst that he can give, to me the best. Yet so it may fall out, because thir end Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine Draw thir own ruin who attempt the deed. Chor: Oh how comely it is and how reviving To the Spirits of just men long opprest! When God into the hands of thir deliverer 1270 Puts invincible might To quell the mighty of the Earth, th' oppressour, The brute and boist'rous force of violent men Hardy and industrious to support Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue The righteous and all such as honour Truth; He all thir Ammunition And feats of War defeats With plain Heroic magnitude of mind And celestial vigour arm'd, 1270 Thir Armories and Magazins contemns, Renders them useless, while With winged expedition Swift as the lightning glance he executes His errand on the wicked, who surpris'd Lose thir defence distracted and amaz'd. But patience is more oft the exercise Of Saints, the trial of thir fortitude, Making them each his own Deliverer, And Victor over all 1290 That tyrannie or fortune can inflict, Either of these is in thy lot, Samson, with might endu'd Above the Sons of men; but sight bereav'd May chance to number thee with those Whom Patience finally must crown. This Idols day hath bin to thee no day of rest, Labouring thy mind More then the working day thy hands, And yet perhaps more trouble is behind. 1300 For I descry this way Some other tending, in his hand A Scepter or quaint staff he bears, Comes on amain, speed in his look. By his habit I discern him now A Public Officer, and now at hand. His message will be short and voluble. Off: Ebrews, the Pris'ner Samson here I seek. Chor: His manacles remark him, there he sits. Off: Samson, to thee our Lords thus bid me say; 1310 This day to Dagon is a solemn Feast, With Sacrifices, Triumph, Pomp, and Games; Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, And now some public proof thereof require To honour this great Feast, and great Assembly; Rise therefore with all speed and come along, Where I will see thee heartn'd and fresh clad To appear as fits before th' illustrious Lords. Sam: Thou knowst I am an Ebrew, therefore tell them, Our Law forbids at thir Religious Rites 1320 My presence; for that cause I cannot come. Off: This answer, be assur'd, will not content them. Sam: Have they not Sword-players, and ev'ry sort Of Gymnic Artists, Wrestlers, Riders, Runners, Juglers and Dancers, Antics, Mummers, Mimics, But they must pick me out with shackles tir'd, And over-labour'd at thir publick Mill, To make them sport with blind activity? Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels On my refusal to distress me more, 1330 Or make a game of my calamities? Return the way thou cam'st, I will not come. Off: Regard thy self, this will offend them highly. Sam: My self? my conscience and internal peace. Can they think me so broken, so debas'd With corporal servitude, that my mind ever Will condescend to such absurd commands? Although thir drudge, to be thir fool or jester, And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief To shew them feats, and play before thir god, 1340 The worst of all indignities, yet on me Joyn'd with extream contempt? I will not come. Off: My message was impos'd on me with speed, Brooks no delay: is this thy resolution? Sam: So take it with what speed thy message needs. Off : I am sorry what this stoutness will produce. Sam: Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed. Chor: Consider, Samson; matters now are strain'd Up to the highth, whether to bold or break; He's gone, and who knows how he may report 1350 Thy words by adding fuel to the flame? Expect another message more imperious, More Lordly thund'ring then thou well wilt bear. Sam: Shall I abuse this Consecrated gift Of strength, again returning with my hair After my great transgression, so requite Favour renew'd, and add a greater sin By prostituting holy things to Idols; A Nazarite in place abominable Vaunting my strength in honour to thir Dagon? 1360 Besides, how vile, contemptible, ridiculous, What act more execrably unclean, prophane? Chor: Yet with this strength thou serv'st the Philistines, Idolatrous, uncircumcis'd, unclean. Sam: Not in thir Idol-worship, but by labour Honest and lawful to deserve my food Of those who have me in thir civil power. Chor: Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not Sam: Where outward force constrains, the sentence holds: But who constrains me to the Temple of Dagon, 1370 Not dragging? the Philistian Lords command. Commands are no constraints. If I obey them, I do it freely; venturing to displease God for the fear of Man, and Man prefer, Set God behind: which in his jealousie Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness. Yet that he may dispense with me or thee Present in Temples at Idolatrous Rites For some important cause, thou needst not doubt. Chor: How thou wilt here come off surmounts my reach. 1380 Sam: Be of good courage, I begin to feel Some rouzing motions in me which dispose To something extraordinary my thoughts. I with this Messenger will go along, Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour Our Law, or stain my vow of Nazarite. If there be aught of presage in the mind, This day will be remarkable in my life By some great act, or of my days the last. Chor: In time thou hast resolv'd, the man returns. 1390 Off: Samson, this second message from our Lords To thee I am bid say. Art thou our Slave, Our Captive, at the public Mill our drudge, And dar'st thou at our sending and command Dispute thy coming? come without delay; Or we shall find such Engines to assail And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force, Though thou wert firmlier fastn'd then a rock. Sam: I could be well content to try thir Art, Which to no few of them would prove pernicious. 1400 Yet knowing thir advantages too many, Because they shall not trail me through thir streets Like a wild Beast, I am content to go. Masters commands come with a power resistless To such as owe them absolute subjection; And for a life who will not change his purpose? (So mutable are all the ways of men) Yet this be sure, in nothing to comply Scandalous or forbidden in our Law. Off: I praise thy resolution, doff these links: 1410 By this compliance thou wilt win the Lords To favour, and perhaps to set thee free. Sam: Brethren farewel, your company along I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them To see me girt with Friends; and how the sight Of me as of a common Enemy, So dreaded once, may now exasperate them I know not. Lords are Lordliest in thir wine, And the well-feasted Priest then soonest fir'd With zeal, if aught Religion seem concern'd: 1420 No less the people on thir Holy-days Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable; Happ'n what may, of me expect to hear Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy Our God, our Law, my Nation, or my self, The last of me or no I cannot warrant. Chor: Go, and the Holy One Of Israel be thy guide To what may serve his glory best, & spread his name Great among the Heathen round: 1430 Send thee the Angel of thy Birth, to stand Fast by thy side, who from thy Fathers field Rode up in flames after his message told Of thy conception, and be now a shield Of fire; that Spirit that first rusht on thee In the camp of Dan Be efficacious in thee now at need. For never was from Heaven imparted Measure of strength so great to mortal seed, As in thy wond'rous actions Hath been seen. 1440 But wherefore comes old Manoa in such hast With youthful steps? much livelier than e're while He seems: supposing here to find his Son, Or of him bringing to us some glad news? Man: Peace with you brethren; my inducement hither Was not at present here to find my Son, By order of the Lords new parted hence To come and play before them at thir Feast. I heard all as I came, the City rings And numbers thither flock, I had no will, 1450 Lest I should see him forc't to things unseemly. But that which moved my coming now, was chiefly To give ye part with me what hope I have With good success to work his liberty. Chor: That hope would much rejoyce us to partake With thee; say reverend Sire, we thirst to hear. Man: I have attempted one by one the Lords Either at home, or through the high street passing, With supplication prone and Fathers tears To accept of ransom for my Son thir pris'ner, 1460 Some much averse I found and wondrous harsh, Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite; That part most reverenc'd Dagon and his Priests, Others more moderate seeming, but thir aim Private reward, for which both God and State They easily would set to sale, a third More generous far and civil, who confess'd They had anough reveng'd, having reduc't Thir foe to misery beneath thir fears, The rest was magnanimity to remit, 1470 If some convenient ransom were propos'd. What noise or shout was that? it tore the Skie. Chor: Doubtless the people shouting to behold Thir once great dread, captive, & blind before them, Or at some proof of strength before them shown. Man: His ransom, if my whole inheritance May compass it, shall willingly be paid And numberd down: much rather I shall chuse To live the poorest in my Tribe, then richest, And he in that calamitous prison left. 1480 No, I am fixt not to part hence without him. For his redemption all my Patrimony, If need be, I am ready to forgo And quit: not wanting him, I shall want nothing. Chor: Fathers are wont to lay up for thir Sons, Thou for thy Son art bent to lay out all; Sons wont to nurse thir Parents in old age, Thou in old age car'st how to nurse thy Son, Made older then thy age through eye-sight lost. Man: It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, 1490 And view him sitting in the house, enobl'd With all those high exploits by him atchiev'd, And on his shoulders waving down those locks, That of a Nation arm'd the strength contain'd: And I perswade me God had not permitted His strength again to grow up with his hair Garrison'd round about him like a Camp Of faithful Souldiery, were not his purpose To use him further yet in some great service, Not to sit idle with so great a gift 1500 Useless, and thence ridiculous about him. And since his strength with eye-sight was not lost, God will restore him eye-sight to his strength. Chor: Thy hopes are not ill founded nor seem vain Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon Conceiv'd, agreeable to a Fathers love, In both which we, as next participate. Man: I know your friendly minds and -- O what noise! Mercy of Heav'n what hideous noise was that! Horribly loud unlike the former shout. 1510 Chor: Noise call you it or universal groan As if the whole inhabitation perish'd, Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that noise, Ruin, destruction at the utmost point. Man: Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise, Oh it continues, they have slain my Son. Chor: Thy Son is rather slaying them, that outcry >From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. Man: Some dismal accident it needs must be; What shall we do, stay here or run and see? 1520 Chor: Best keep together here, lest running thither We unawares run into dangers mouth. This evil on the Philistines is fall'n >From whom could else a general cry be heard? The sufferers then will scarce molest us here, >From other hands we need not much to fear. What if his eye-sight (for to Israels God Nothing is hard) by miracle restor'd, He now be dealing dole among his foes, And over heaps of slaughter'd walk his way? 1530 Man: That were a joy presumptuous to be thought. Chor: Yet God hath wrought things as incredible For his people of old; what hinders now? Man: He can I know, but doubt to think be will; Yet Hope would fain subscribe, and tempts Belief. A little stay will bring some notice hither. Chor: Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner; For evil news rides post, while good news baits. And to our wish I see one hither speeding, An Ebrew, as I guess, and of our Tribe. 1540 Mess: O whither shall I run, or which way flie The sight of this so horrid spectacle Which earst my eyes beheld and yet behold; For dire imagination still persues me. But providence or instinct of nature seems, Or reason though disturb'd, and scarse consulted To have guided me aright, I know not how, To thee first reverend Manoa, and to these My Countreymen, whom here I knew remaining, As at some distance from the place of horrour, 1550 So in the sad event too much concern'd. Man: The accident was loud, & here before thee With rueful cry, yet what it was we hear not, No Preface needs, thou seest we long to know. Mess: It would burst forth, but I recover breath And sense distract, to know well what I utter. Man: Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer. Mess: Gaza yet stands, but all her Sons are fall'n, All in a moment overwhelm'd and fall'n. Man: Sad, but thou knowst to Israelites not saddest 1560 The desolation of a Hostile City. Mess: Feed on that first, there may in grief be surfet. Man: Relate by whom. Mess: By Samson. Man: That still lessens The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. Mess: Ah Manoa I refrain, too suddenly To utter what will come at last too soon; Lest evil tidings with too rude irruption Hitting thy aged ear should pierce too deep. Man: Suspense in news is torture, speak them out. Mess: Then take the worst in brief, Samson is dead. 1570 Man: The worst indeed, O all my hope's defeated To free him hence! but death who sets all free Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge. What windy joy this day had I conceiv'd Hopeful of his Delivery, which now proves Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring Nipt with the lagging rear of winters frost. Yet e're I give the rains to grief, say first, How dy'd he? death to life is crown or shame. All by him fell thou say'st, by whom fell he, 1580 What glorious band gave Samson his deaths wound? Mess: Unwounded of his enemies he fell. Man: Wearied with slaughter then or how? explain. Mess: By his own hands. Man: Self-violence? what cause Brought him so soon at variance with himself Among his foes? Mess: Inevitable cause At once both to destroy and be destroy'd; The Edifice where all were met to see him Upon thir heads and on his own he pull'd. Man: O lastly over-strong against thy self! 1590 A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge. More than anough we know; but while things yet Are in confusion, give us if thou canst, Eye-witness of what first or last was done, Relation more particular and distinct. Mess: Occasions drew me early to this City, And as the gates I enter'd with Sun-rise, The morning Trumpets Festival proclaim'd Through each high street: little I had dispatch't When all abroad was rumour'd that this day 1600 Samson should be brought forth to shew the people Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games; I sorrow'd at his captive state, but minded Not to be absent at that spectacle. The building was a spacious Theatre Half round on two main Pillars vaulted high, With seats where all the Lords and each degree Of sort, might sit in order to behold, The other side was op'n, where the throng On banks and scaffolds under Skie might stand; 1610 I among these aloof obscurely stood. The Feast and noon grew high, and Sacrifice Had fill'd thir hearts with mirth, high chear, & wine, When to thir sports they turn'd. Immediately Was Samson as a public servant brought, In thir state Livery clad; before him Pipes And Timbrels, on each side went armed guards, Both horse and foot before him and behind Archers, and Slingers, Cataphracts and Spears. At sight of him the people with a shout 1620 Rifted the Air clamouring thir god with praise, Who had made thir dreadful enemy thir thrall. He patient but undaunted where they led him. Came to the place, and what was set before him Which without help of eye, might be assay'd, To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still perform'd All with incredible, stupendious force, None daring to appear Antagonist. At length for intermission sake they led him Between the pillars; he his guide requested 1630 (For so from such as nearer stood we heard) As over-tir'd to let him lean a while With both his arms on those two massie Pillars That to the arched roof gave main support. He unsuspitious led him; which when Samson Felt in his arms, with head a while enclin'd, And eyes fast fixt he stood, as one who pray'd, Or some great matter in his mind revolv'd. At last with head erect thus cryed aloud, Hitherto, Lords, what your commands impos'd 1640 I have perform'd, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld. Now of my own accord such other tryal I mean to shew you of my strength, yet greater; As with amaze shall strike all who behold. This utter'd, straining all his nerves he bow'd, As with the force of winds and waters pent, When Mountains tremble, those two massie Pillars With horrible convulsion to and fro, He tugg'd, he shook, till down they came and drew 1650 The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sate beneath, Lords, Ladies, Captains, Councellors, or Priests, Thir choice nobility and flower, not only Of this but each Philistian City round Met from all parts to solemnize this Feast. Samson with these immixt, inevitably Pulld down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar only scap'd who stood without. Chor: O dearly-bought revenge, yet glorious! 1660 Living or dying thou hast fulfill'd The work for which thou wast foretold To Israel and now ly'st victorious Among thy slain self-kill'd Not willingly, but tangl'd in the fold Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoin'd Thee with thy slaughter'd foes in number more Then all thy life had slain before. Semichor: While thir hearts were jocund and sublime Drunk with Idolatry, drunk with Wine, 1670 And fat regorg'd of Bulls and Goats, Chaunting thir Idol, and preferring Before our living Dread who dwells In Silo his bright Sanctuary: Among them he a spirit of phrenzie sent, Who hurt thir minds, And urg'd them on with mad desire To call in hast for thir destroyer; They only set on sport and play Unweetingly importun'd 1680 Thir own destruction to come speedy upon them. So fond are mortal men Fall'n into wrath divine, As thir own ruin on themselves to invite, Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, And with blindness internal struck. Semichor: But he though blind of sight, Despis'd and thought extinguish't quite, With inward eyes illuminated His fierie vertue rouz'd 1690 >From under ashes into sudden flame, And as an ev'ning Dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts, And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic Fowl; but as an Eagle His cloudless thunder bolted on thir heads. So vertue giv'n for lost, Deprest, and overthrown, as seem'd, Like that self-begott'n bird In the Arabian woods embost, 1700 That no second knows nor third, And lay e're while a Holocaust, >From out her ashie womb now teem'd Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most When most unactive deem'd, And though her body die, her fame survives, A secular bird ages of lives. Man: Come, come, no time for lamentation now, Nor much more cause, Samson hath quit himself Like Samson, and heroicly hath finish'd 1710 A life Heroic, on his Enemies Fully reveng'd, hath left them years of mourning, And lamentation to the Sons of Caphtor Through all Philistian bounds. To Israel Honour hath left, and freedom, let but them Find courage to lay hold on this occasion, To himself and Fathers house eternal fame; And which is best and happiest yet, all this With God not parted from him, as was feard, But favouring and assisting to the end. 1720 Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble. Let us go find the body where it lies Sok't in his enemies blood, and from the stream With lavers pure and cleansing herbs wash off The clotted gore. I with what speed the while (Gaza is not in plight to say us nay) Will send for all my kindred, all my friends 1730 To fetch him hence and solemnly attend With silent obsequie and funeral train Home to his Fathers house: there will I build him A Monument, and plant it round with shade Of Laurel ever green, and branching Palm, With all his Trophies hung, and Acts enroll'd In copious Legend, or sweet Lyric Song. Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, And from his memory inflame thir breasts To matchless valour, and adventures high: 1740 The Virgins also shall on feastful days Visit his Tomb with flowers, only bewailing His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, >From whence captivity and loss of eyes. Chor: All is best, though we oft doubt, What th' unsearchable dispose Of highest wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns 1750 And to his faithful Champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns And all that band them to resist His uncontroulable intent, His servants he with new acquist Of true experience from this great event With peace and consolation hath dismist, And calm of mind all passion spent. The End. APPENDIX. Specimen of Milton's spelling, from the Cambridge autograph manuscript. ON TIME set on a clock case Fly envious Time till thou run out thy race call on the lazie leaden-stepping howres whose speed is but the heavie plummets pace & glut thy selfe wth what thy womb devoures Wch is no more then what is false & vaine & meerly mortall drosse so little is our losse so little is thy gaine for when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd & last of all thy greedie selfe consum'd 10 then long Aeternity shall greet our blisse wth an individuall kisse and Joy shall overtake us as a flood when every thing yt is sincerely good & pfectly divine with Truth, & Peace, & Love shall ever shine about the supreme throne of him t' whose happy-making sight alone when once our heav'nly-guided soule shall clime then all this earthie grossnesse quit 20 attir'd wth starres wee shall for ever sit Triumphing over Death, & Chance, & thee O Time.