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FROM "PARADISE LOST," BOOK VIII
ADAM DESCRIBING EVE.
I led her blushing like the morn : all Heaven,
And happy constellations on that hour MINE eyes he closed, but open left the cell
Shed their selectest influence ; the earth Of fancy, my internal sight, by which
Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; Abstract, as in a trance, methought I saw,
Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Whispered it to the woods, and froin their win Still glorious before whom awake I stood ;
Flung rose, flung odors from the spicy shrub, Who, stooping, opened my left side, and took
Disporting, till the amorous bird of night From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,
Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the On his hill-top, to light the bridal lamp. wound,
When I approach But smilenly with flesh filled up and healed : The rib he formed and fashioned with his hands;
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, Under his forming hands a creature grew,
And in herself complete, so well to know Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair,
Her own, that what she wills to do or say That what seemed fair in all the world seemed Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best ;
All higher knowledge in her presence falls Mean, or in her summed up, in her contained
Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her And in her looks, which from that time infused
Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows; Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before,
Authority and reason on her wait, And into all things from her air inspired
As one intended first, not after made The spirit of love and amorous delight.
Occasionally ; and, to consunmate all,
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic placed.
Veither her outside forined so fair, nor aught Such as I saw her in my dream, adorned With what all earth or Heaven could bestow To make her amiable. On she came,
So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen,
Those thousand decencies that daily flow And guided by his voice, nor uninformed
From all her words and actions, mixed with love Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites :
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,
Union of mind, or in us both one soul; In every gesture dignity and love.
Harmony to behold in wedded pair I, overjoyedd, could not forbear aloud :
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. “This turn hath made amends; thou hast
fulfilled Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,
TO A LADY BEFORE MARRIAGE. Giver of all things fair, but fairest this Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see
O, FORMED by Nature, and refined by Art, Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself With charms to win; and sense to fix the heart ! Before me ; Woman is her name, of man
By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free Extracted : for this cause he shall forego
Thy crowd of captives and descend to me ?
Ah! soothe thy partner in his waking dream ! Yet innocence and virgin modesty,
In some small hamlet on the lonely plain, Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, Where Thames through meadows rolls his mazy That would be wooed, and not unsought be won,
train, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired.
Or where high Windsor, thick with greens arThe more desirable ; or, to say all.
rayed, Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Waves his old oaks, and spreads his ample shade, Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turned ; Fancy has figured out our calm retreat ; I followed her ; she what was honor knew, Already round the visionary seat And with obsequious majesty approved
Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring, My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing.
Where dost thou lie, thou thinly peopled green, 'Mong all the joys my soul hath known,
To all the past, the good, the fair;
Will make a music in the air. Miilst gardens here my humble pile shall rise, With sweets surrounded of ten thousand dyes ; Like a wet fisher tempest-tost, All savage where the embroidered gardens end, Who sees throughout the weltering night The haunt of echoes, shall my woods ascend ; Afar on some low-lying coast And oh! if Heaven the ambitious thought ap The streaming of a rainy light, prove,
I saw this hour, --- and now 't is come ; A rill shall warble 'cross the gloomy grove,
The rooms are lit, the feast is set ;
Within the twilight I am dumb,
Where'er she treads the pansy blows ; How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale ! Nor call her eyes twin stars, her smile That thrush how shrill ! his note so clear, so A sunbeam, and her mouth a rose. high,
Nor can I, as your bridegrooms do,
The fond romance of twenty-two
To-night I shake hands with the past,
Familiar years, adiel, adieu ! The downy peach, or flavored nectarine;
An unknown door is open cast, Or rob the beehive of its golden hoard,
An empty future wide and new And bear the unbought luxuriance to thy board.
Stands waiting. Oye naked rooms, Sometimes my books by day shall kill the hours,
Void, desolate, without a charm ! While from thy needle rise the silken flowers,
Will Love's smile chase your lonely glooms, And thou, by turns, to ease my feeble sight,
And drape your walls, and make them warm i Resume the volume, and deceive the night.
The man who knew, while he was young, 0, when I mark thy twinkling eyes opprest,
Some soft and soul-subduing air, Soft whispering, let me warn my love to rest;
Melts when again he hears it sung, Then watch thee, charmed, while sleep locks
Although 't is only half so fair. every sense,
So I love thee, and love is sweet Ann to sweet Heaven commend thy innocence.
(My Florence, 't is the cruel truth) Thus reigned our fathers o'er the rural fold,
Because it can to age repeat
That long-lost passion of my youth.
0, often did my spirit melt,
Blurred letters, o'er your artless rhymes ! THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING ;
Fair tress, in which the sunshine dwelt,
I've kissed thee many a million times !
And now 't is done. – My passionate tears, The country ways are full of mire,
Mad pleadings with an iron fate, The boughs toss in the fading light,
And all the sweetness of my years,
Are blackened ashes in the grate.
Then ring in the wind, my wedding chimes ;
Old churchyard, stuffed with buried crimes, This slowly dying pint of port.
Be clad in sunshine o'er and o'er ;
It may be, Florence, loving thee,
My heart will its old meinories keep ; Like some worn sea-shell from the sea,
Fiiled with the music of the deep. All you may watch, on nights of rain,
A shadow on my brow encroach ; Be startled by my sudden pain,
And tenderness of self-reproach.
The maid, and thereby hangs a tale,
Could ever yet produce :
Nor half so full of juice.
It was too wide a peck;
About our young colt's neck.
As if they feared the light; But 0, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.
It niay be that your loving wiles
Will call a sigh from far-off years ; It may he that your happiest smiles
Will brim my eyes with hopeless tears ; It inay he that my sleeping breatb
Will shake, with painful visions wrung; And, in the awful trance of death,
A stranger's name be on my tongue. Ye phantoms, born of bitter blood,
Ye ghosts of passion, lean and worn, Ye terrors of a lonely mood,
What do ye here on a wedding-morn ? For, as the dawning sweet and fast
Through all the heaven spreads and flows, Within life's discord, rude and vast,
Love's subtle music grows and grows. And lightened is the heavy curse,
And clearer is the weary road ; The very worm the sea-weeds nurse
Is cared for by the Eternal God. My love, pale blossom of the snow,
Has pierced earth wet with wintry showers, O may it drink the sun, and blow,
And be followed by all the year of flowers !
Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
Who sees them is undone ;
The side that's next the sun.
Here lips were red ; and one was thin,
Some bee had stung it newly ;
Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou ’dst swear her teeth her words did break.
That they nright passage get ; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.
Black Bayard from the stable bring;
The rain is o'er, the wind is down, Round stirring farms the birds will sing,
The dawn stand in the sleeping town, W thin an hour. This is her gate,
Her sodden roses droop in night, And – emblem of my happy fate
In one dear window there is light.
SIR JOHN SUCKLING
FROM " THE EPITHALAMION."
Thou hast left the joyous feast,
And now we set thee down Lefore
That the favored youth admits Arysing forth to run her mighty race.
Where the veiled virgin sits Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.
In the bliss of maiden fear, So well it her beseems, that ye would weene
Waiting our soft tread to hear,
And the music's brisker din
To the chamber of his rest.
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
Now the jocund song is thine,
Bride of David's kingly line ; Ne daro lift up her countenance too bold,
How thy dove-like bosom trembleth, But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud, - And thy shrouded eye
resembleth So farre from being proud.
Violets, when the dews of eve Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses siug,
A moist and tremulous glitter leave. That all the woods inay answer, and your eccho ring.
On the bashful sealed lid!
('iose within the bride-veil hid, Tell me, ye merchants danghters, did ye see
Motionless thou sitt'st and mute; So fayre a creature in your towne before ;
Save that at the soft salute
Of each entering maiden friend,
Hark! a brisker, merrier glee !
Thus we lift our lamps to meet him,
Thou shalt give a tenderer greeting.
And ring of gold, no fond illusions now,
His house she enters, -- there to be a light,
Shining withiu, when all without is night;
A guardian angel o'er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing,
Winning him back when mingling in the throng,
Back from a world we love, alas ! too long,
To fireside happiness, to hours of ease,
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
Still subject, - cver on the watch to borrow Swaying as we slowly move.
Mirth of his mirth and sorrow of his sorrow !
HENRY HART MILAN.
FROM "HUMAN LIFE."
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
What's the world, my lass, my love!
what can it do ? I am thine, and thou art mine ; lise is sweet and
SEVEN TIMES SIX.
If the world have missed the mark, let it stand
GIVING IN MARRIAGE.
When the darker days come, and no sun wid)
shine, Thou shalt dry my tears, lass, and I 'll dry thine. It's we two, it's we two, while the world's
away, Sitting by the golden sheaves on our wedding day.
NOT OURS THE VOWS.
To bear, to nurse, to rear,
To watch, and then to lose :
Drawn up like morning dews ;
To watch, and then to lose :
Among his own to choose.
And with thy lord depart
Will let no longer smart.
This while thou didst I smiled, For now it was not God who said,
“Mother, give me thy child.” O fond, O fool, and blind,
To God I gave with tears ;
My soul put by her fears.
God guards in happier spheres ;
Is hope for unknown years.
Fair lot that maidens choose,
Thy face no more she views ;
She doth in naught accuse; Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, To love - and then to lose.
Not ours the vows of such as plight .
Their troth in sunny weather,
To walk on flowers together.
The thorny path of sorrow,
Yet deeper gloom to-morrow.
Have drawn our spirits nearer ;
Each to the other dearer.
Love, born in hours of joy and mirth,
With mirth and joy may perish ;
Still more and more we cherish.
And through death's shadowy ortal;
By faith and hope immortal.
LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT.
FROM " PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE."
Ir 's we two, it's we two for aye,
She was a creature framed hy love divine
In pondering her perfections ; so unnioved