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And slits the thin-spun life. "But not
the praise,"
Phoebus replied, and touched my trem-
bling ears:
on mortal

"Fame is no plant that gro
soil,

"How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,

Nor in the glistering foil

Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor Creep, and intrude, and climb into the

115

lies;

80

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure

eyes

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy

fold!

Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast

And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold

meed."

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else

flood,

85

Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with

vocal reeds,

That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my oat proceeds,

And listens to the herald of the sea,

90

That came in Neptune's plea.
He asked the waves, and asked the felon1
winds,

What hard mishap hath doomed this
gentle swain?
And questioned every gust of rugged
wings

That blows from off each beaked promon-
tory:

They know not of his story;

95

And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed;

The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses
dark,

That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

105

edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with

woe.

"Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge? "2

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain 110 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:

Last came, and last did go,
The pilot of the Galilean lake;

1 criminal.

2 child.

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135

Next Camus, reverend sire, went foot- Their bells and flowerets of a thousand
ing slow,
hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers
use5

His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the

Of shades and wanton winds and gushing
brooks,

On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely
looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled

131

Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past

That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian
Muse,

And call the vales, and bid them hither
cast

eyes,

3 accomplish their end.
dwell.

4 harsh, discordant.

the Dog-star, Sirius.

That on the green turf suck the honeyed Through the dear might of Him that showers, walked the waves,

140

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.

Where, other groves and other streams along,

174

Bring the rathe1 primrose that forsaken dies,

The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked
with jet,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and
love.

145

The glowing violet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attired wood-
bine,

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179

There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no

more;

Henceforth 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 the oaks and rills, 186 While the still morn went out with sandals grey;

He touched the tender stops of various quills,8

With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190 And now was dropped into the western bay. At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:

To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures

new.

SONNETS

ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE
AGE OF TWENTY-THREE

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,

Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!

My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth

5

That I to manhood am arrived so near;
And inward ripeness doth much less ap-

pear,

That some more timely-happy spirits

endu'th.

⚫ inexpressible. guardian angel. 7 unknown. 8 reeds.

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The labor of an age in pilèd stones?

Or that his hallowed relics should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, 5
What need'st thou such weak witness of
thy name?

ON SHAKESPEARE

10

What needs my Shakespeare for his No less renowned than War: new foes honored bones

arise,

Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavor-
ing art,

Thy easy numbers flow, and that each

heart

IO

Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,

Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving,

And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie 15 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

WELL

ON HIS BLINDNESS

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and
wide,

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued1 And that one talent which is death to
book

hide

TO THE LORD GENERAL CROM

And on the neck of crownèd Fortune
proud

5

Hast reared God's trophies, and his work
pursued,

While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots
imbrued,

And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises
loud,

MAY, 1652

ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS
AT THE COMMITTEE FOR PROPAGATION
OF THE GOSPEL

And Worcester's laureate wreath: yet
much remains

To conquer still; Peace hath her vic-
tories

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a
cloud

Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way
hast ploughed,

1 invaluable.

Threatening to bind our souls with
secular chains.

Help us to save free conscience from the

paw

Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their

maw.

Lodged with me useless, though my soul
more bent

4

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light de-
nied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth
not need

IO

Either man's work or his own gifts.
Who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.
His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without
rest;

They also serve who only stand and
wait."

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIED-
MONT
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints,
whose bones

Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains
cold;

t

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Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,

Rescued from Death by force, though pale and faint.

ON HIS DECEASED WIFE

Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,

Mine, as whom washed from spot of childbed taint

5

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 veiled; yet to my fancied sight

10

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined

So clear as in no face with more delight.
But, oh! as to embrace me she inclined,
I waked, she fled, and day brought back
my night.

PARADISE LOST

BOOK I

THE ARGUMENT

This First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject,-Man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his fall,-the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven, with all his crew, into the great Deep. Which action passed over, the Poem hastens into the midst of things; presenting Satan, with his Angels, now fallen into Hell-described here, not in the Center (for Heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed), but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos. Here Satan with his Angels, lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion; calls up him who, next in order and dignity, lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded. They rise; their numbers; array of battle; their

chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech; comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven; but tells them lastly of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy, or report, in Heaven-for that Angels were long before this visible creation was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the Deep: the infernal Peers there sit in council.

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe,

5

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful-seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret
top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen
seed

In the beginning how the heavens and
earth

10

Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that
flowed

Fast' by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost pre-
fer
Before all temples the upright heart and

17

1 close.

Illumine; what is low, raise and support;
That to the highth of this great argument
I may assert 2 Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.

Say first-for Heaven hides nothing
from Thy view,

Nor the deep tract of Hell-say first what

cause

Moved our grand Parents, in that happy
state,

Favored of Heaven so highly, to fall off 30
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the world be-
sides.

3

Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? The infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile,

Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived

35 The mother of mankind, what time his pride

Had cast him out from Heaven, with all
his host

Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most
High,

25

40

If he opposed; and, with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven, and battle
proud,

With vain attempt. Him the Almighty
Power

45

Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal
sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition; there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day
and night

50

To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his
doom

pure,
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from
the first

Reserved him to more wrath; for now the
thought

Wast present, and, with mighty wings out-
spread,
Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast
Abyss,

Both of lost happiness and lasting pain 55
Torments him; round he throws his bale-
ful eyes,

20

That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is Mixed with obdurate pride, and steadfast

dark,

hate.

2 vindicate.

* because of.

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