Sabrina fair,Listen where thou art sitting860Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of lilies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;Listen for dear honor’s sake,Goddess of the silver lake,865Listen and save!
Sabrina fair,
Listen where thou art sitting860
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honor’s sake,
Goddess of the silver lake,865
Listen and save!
Listen, and appear to us,In name of greatOceanus,By theearth-shaking Neptune’s mace,AndTethys’ grave majestic pace;870Byhoary Nereus’wrinkled look,Andthe Carpathian wizard’s hook;Byscaly Triton’s winding shell,And oldsoothsaying Glaucus’spell;By Leucothea’s lovely hands,875And her son that rules the strands;ByThetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,Andthe songs of Sirenssweet;Bydead Parthenope’s dear tomb,Andfair Ligea’s golden comb,880Wherewith she sits on diamond rocksSleeking her soft alluring locks;By all the nymphs that nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance;Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head885From thy coral-paven bed,Andbridle inthy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!
Listen, and appear to us,
In name of greatOceanus,
By theearth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
AndTethys’ grave majestic pace;870
Byhoary Nereus’wrinkled look,
Andthe Carpathian wizard’s hook;
Byscaly Triton’s winding shell,
And oldsoothsaying Glaucus’spell;
By Leucothea’s lovely hands,875
And her son that rules the strands;
ByThetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,
Andthe songs of Sirenssweet;
Bydead Parthenope’s dear tomb,
Andfair Ligea’s golden comb,880
Wherewith 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 rosy head885
From thy coral-paven bed,
Andbridle inthy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answered have.
Listen and save!
Sabrinarises, attended by Water-nymphs, and sings.
By the rushy-fringed bank,890Where grow the willow and the osier dank,My sliding chariot stays,Thick set with agate, andthe azurn sheenOf turkis blue, and emerald green,That in the channel strays:895Whilst from off the waters fleetThus I set my printless feetO’er the cowslip’s velvet head,That bends not as I tread.Gentle swain, at thy request900I am here!
By the rushy-fringed bank,890
Where grow the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate, andthe azurn sheen
Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
That in the channel strays:895
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O’er the cowslip’s velvet head,
That bends not as I tread.
Gentle swain, at thy request900
I am here!
Spir.Goddess dear,We implore thy powerful handTo undo the charmed bandOf true virgin here distressed905Through the force and through the wileOf unblessed enchanter vile.
Spir.Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band
Of true virgin here distressed905
Through the force and through the wile
Of unblessed enchanter vile.
Sabr.Shepherd, ’tis my office bestTo help ensnared chastity.Brightest Lady, look on me.910Thus I sprinkle on thy breastDrops that from my fountain pureI have keptof precious cure;Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,Thrice upon thy rubied lip:915Next this marble venomed seat,Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.Now the spell hath lost his hold,And I must haste ere morning hour920To wait in Amphitrite’s bower.
Sabr.Shepherd, ’tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity.
Brightest Lady, look on me.910
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have keptof precious cure;
Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip:915
Next this marble venomed seat,
Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.
Now the spell hath lost his hold,
And I must haste ere morning hour920
To wait in Amphitrite’s bower.
Sabrinadescends, and theLadyrises out of her seat.
Spir.Virgin, daughter of Locrine,Sprung of old Anchises’ line,Maythy brimmed wavesfor thisTheir full tribute never miss925From a thousand petty rills,That tumble down the snowy hills:Summer drouth or singed airNever scorch thy tresses fair,Nor wet October’storrent flood930Thy molten crystal fill with mud;May thy billows roll ashoreTheberyland the golden ore;May thy lofty head be crownedWith many a tower and terrace round,935And here and there thy banks uponWithgroves of myrrh and cinnamon.Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace,Let us fly this cursed place,Lest the sorcerer us entice940With some other new device.Not a waste or needless soundTill we come to holier ground.I shall be your faithful guideThrough this gloomy covert wide;945And not many furlongs thenceIs your Father’s residence,Where this night are met in stateMany a friend to gratulateHis wished presence, and beside950All the swains that there abideWith jigs and rural dance resort.We shall catch them at their sport,And our sudden coming thereWill double all their mirth and cheer.955Come, let us haste; the stars grow high,But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
Spir.Virgin, daughter of Locrine,
Sprung of old Anchises’ line,
Maythy brimmed wavesfor this
Their full tribute never miss925
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills:
Summer drouth or singed air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October’storrent flood930
Thy molten crystal fill with mud;
May thy billows roll ashore
Theberyland the golden ore;
May thy lofty head be crowned
With many a tower and terrace round,935
And here and there thy banks upon
Withgroves of myrrh and cinnamon.
Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this cursed place,
Lest the sorcerer us entice940
With some other new device.
Not a waste or needless sound
Till we come to holier ground.
I shall be your faithful guide
Through this gloomy covert wide;945
And not many furlongs thence
Is your Father’s residence,
Where this night are met in state
Many a friend to gratulate
His wished presence, and beside950
All the swains that there abide
With jigs and rural dance resort.
We shall catch them at their sport,
And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and cheer.955
Come, 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’s Castle: then come the Country Dancers; after them theAttendant Spirit, with theTwo Brothersand theLady.
Spir.Back, shepherds, back! Enough your playTill next sun-shine holiday.Here be, withoutduck or nod,960Other trippings to be trodOf lighter toes, and such court guiseAs Mercury did first deviseWith the mincing DryadesOn the lawns and on the leas.965
Spir.Back, shepherds, back! Enough your play
Till next sun-shine holiday.
Here be, withoutduck 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.965
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 grownThree fair branches of your own.Heaven hath timely tried their youth,970Their faith, their patience, and their truth,And sent them here through hard assaysWith a crown of deathless praise,To triumph in victorious danceO’er sensual folly and intemperance.975
Noble Lord and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight.
Here behold so goodly grown
Three fair branches of your own.
Heaven hath timely tried 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’er sensual folly and intemperance.975
The dances ended, theSpiritepiloguizes.
Spir.To the ocean now I fly,And those happy climes that lieWhere day never shuts his eye,Up in the broad fields of the sky.ThereI suck the liquid air,980All amidstthe gardens fairOf Hesperus, and his daughters threeThat sing aboutthe golden tree.Along the crisped shades and bowersRevels thespruceand jocund Spring;985The Graces and the rosy-bosomed HoursThither all their bounties bring.There eternal Summer dwells,And west winds with musky wingAbout the cedarn alleysfling990Nard and cassia’s balmy smells.Iristhere with humid bowWaters the odorous banks, thatblowFlowers of more mingled hueThan her purfled scarf can shew,995And drenches with Elysian dew(List, mortals, if your ears be true)Beds of hyacinth and roses,Where youngAdonisoft reposes,Waxing well of his deep wound,1000In slumbers soft, and on the groundSadly sitsthe Assyrian queen.But far above, in spangled sheen,Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advancedHolds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced1005After her wandering labors long,Till free consent the gods amongMake her his eternal bride,And from her fair unspotted sideTwo blissful twins are to be born,1010Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.But now my task is smoothly done:I can fly, or I can runQuickly to the green earth’s end,Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015And from thence can soar as soonTo the corners of the moon.Mortals, that would follow me,Love Virtue; she alone is free.She can teach ye how to climb1020Higher thanthe sphery chime;Or, if Virtue feeble were,Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Spir.To the ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that lie
Where day never shuts his eye,
Up in the broad fields of the sky.
ThereI suck the liquid air,980
All amidstthe gardens fair
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three
That sing aboutthe golden tree.
Along the crisped shades and bowers
Revels thespruceand jocund Spring;985
The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours
Thither all their bounties bring.
There eternal Summer dwells,
And west winds with musky wing
About the cedarn alleysfling990
Nard and cassia’s balmy smells.
Iristhere with humid bow
Waters the odorous banks, thatblow
Flowers of more mingled hue
Than her purfled scarf can shew,995
And drenches with Elysian dew
(List, mortals, if your ears be true)
Beds of hyacinth and roses,
Where youngAdonisoft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound,1000
In slumbers soft, and on the ground
Sadly sitsthe Assyrian queen.
But far above, in spangled sheen,
Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced
Holds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced1005
After her wandering labors 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,1010
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.
But now my task is smoothly done:
I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earth’s end,
Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015
And from thence can soar as soon
To the corners of the moon.
Mortals, that would follow me,
Love Virtue; she alone is free.
She can teach ye how to climb1020
Higher thanthe sphery chime;
Or, if Virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.
In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637; and, by occasion, foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in their height.
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more,Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,And with forced fingers rudeShatter your leaves before the mellowing year.5Bitter constraintand sad occasion dearCompels me to disturb your season due;ForLycidasis dead, dead ere his prime,Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.Who would not sing for Lycidas?he knew10Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.He must not float upon his watery bierUnwept,and welter to the parching wind,Without the meed of some melodious tear.Begin, then,Sisters of the sacred well15That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.Hencewith denial vain and coy excuse:So may some gentle MuseWith lucky words favormydestined urn,20And as he passes turn,And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;Together both, ere the highlawnsappeared25Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,We drove a-field, and both together heardWhat time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,Oft till the star that rose at evening bright30Toward heaven’s descent had sloped his westering wheel.Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute;Tempered to the oaten fluteRough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heelFrom the glad sound would not be absent long;35And old DamÅ“tas loved to hear our song.But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,Now thou art gone and never must return!Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,With wild thyme and the gadding vine o’ergrown,40And all their echoes, mourn.The willows, and the hazel copses green,Shall now no more be seenFanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.As killing as the canker to the rose,45Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,When first the white-thorn blows;Such Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd’s ear.Where were ye,Nymphs, when the remorseless deep50Closed o’er the head of your loved Lycidas?For neither were ye playingon the steepWhere your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,Nor yetwhere Deva spreads her wizard stream.55Ay me! I fondly dream“Had ye been there,†... for what could that have done?What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,Whom universal nature did lament,60When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,His gory visage down the stream was sent,Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?Alas!what boots itwithuncessant careTo tend the homely, slighted, shepherd’s trade,65And strictly meditatethe thankless Muse?Were it not better done, as others use,To sport withAmaryllisin the shade,Or with the tangles ofNeæra’shair?Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise70(That last infirmity of noble mind)To scorn delights and live laborious days;But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,And think to burst out into sudden blaze,Comes theblind Fury with the abhorred shears,75And slits the thin-spun life.“But not the praise,â€PhÅ“bus replied, and touched my trembling ears:“Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,Norin the glistering foilSet offto the world, nor in broad rumor lies,80But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyesAnd perfect witness of all-judging Jove;As he pronounces lastly on each deed,Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.â€O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood,85Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,That strain I heard was of a higher mood.Butnow my oat proceeds,And listens tothe Herald of the Sea,That came in Neptune’s plea.90He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?And questioned every gust of rugged wingsThat blows from off each beaked promontory.They knew not of his story;95Andsage Hippotadestheir answer brings,That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed:The air was calm, and on the level brineSleekPanopewith all her sisters played.It was that fatal and perfidious bark,100Built in the eclipse, and rigged 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 withfigures dim, and on the edge105Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.“Ah! who hath reft,†quoth he, “my dearestpledge?â€Last came, and last did go,The Pilotof the Galilean Lake;Two massy keys he bore of metals twain110(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:—“How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,Enowof such as, for their bellies’ sake,Creep, and intrude, andclimb into the fold!115Of other care they little reckoning makeThan how to scramble at the shearers’ feast,And shove away the worthy bidden guest.Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to holdA sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least120That to the faithful herdman’s art belongs!What recks it them?What need they? They are sped;And, when they list,their lean and flashy songsGrate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;The hungry sheeplook up, and are not fed,125But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;Besides whatthe grim wolf with privy pawDaily devours apace, and nothing said.Butthat two-handed engine at the door130Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.â€Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is pastThat shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,And call the vales, and bid them hither castTheir bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.135Ye valleys low,where the mild whispers useOf shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,On whose fresh lapthe swart starsparely looks,Throw hither all your quaintenamelled eyes,That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,140And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.Bring theratheprimrose that forsaken dies,The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,The glowing violet,145The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,And every flower that sad embroidery wears;Bidamaranthusall his beauty shed,Anddaffadilliesfill their cups with tears,150To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.For so, to interpose a little ease,Let our frail thoughtsdally with false surmise.Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seasWash far away, where’er thy bones are hurled;155Whether beyondthe stormy Hebrides,Where thou perhaps under the whelming tideVisit’st the bottom of the monstrous world;Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old,160Wherethe great Vision of the guarded mountLooks toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold.Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,165For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,And yet anon repairs his drooping head,And tricks his beams, andwith new-spangled ore170Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,Through the dear might ofHim that walked the waves,Where, other groves and other streams along,With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,175And hearsthe unexpressive nuptial 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,180And wipe the tears forever 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 goodTo all that wander in that perilous flood.185
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more,
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forced fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.5
Bitter constraintand sad occasion dear
Compels me to disturb your season due;
ForLycidasis dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Who would not sing for Lycidas?he knew10
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept,and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Begin, then,Sisters of the sacred well15
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Hencewith denial vain and coy excuse:
So may some gentle Muse
With lucky words favormydestined urn,20
And as he passes turn,
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;
Together both, ere the highlawnsappeared25
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,
We drove a-field, and both together heard
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright30
Toward heaven’s descent had sloped his westering wheel.
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute;
Tempered to the oaten flute
Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not be absent long;35
And old Damœtas loved to hear our song.
But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone and never must return!
Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o’ergrown,40
And all their echoes, mourn.
The willows, and the hazel copses green,
Shall now no more be seen
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
As killing as the canker to the rose,45
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,
When first the white-thorn blows;
Such Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd’s ear.
Where were ye,Nymphs, when the remorseless deep50
Closed o’er the head of your loved Lycidas?
For neither were ye playingon the steep
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yetwhere Deva spreads her wizard stream.55
Ay me! I fondly dream
“Had ye been there,†... for what could that have done?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,
Whom universal nature did lament,60
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His gory visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Alas!what boots itwithuncessant care
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd’s trade,65
And strictly meditatethe thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport withAmaryllisin the shade,
Or with the tangles ofNeæra’shair?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise70
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes theblind Fury with the abhorred shears,75
And slits the thin-spun life.“But not the praise,â€
Phœbus replied, and touched my trembling ears:
“Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Norin the glistering foil
Set offto the world, nor in broad rumor 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 meed.â€
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood,85
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood.
Butnow my oat proceeds,
And listens tothe Herald of the Sea,
That came in Neptune’s plea.90
He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?
And questioned every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked promontory.
They knew not of his story;95
Andsage Hippotadestheir answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed:
The air was calm, and on the level brine
SleekPanopewith 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.
Next,Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,
Inwrought withfigures dim, and on the edge105
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.
“Ah! who hath reft,†quoth he, “my dearestpledge?â€
Last came, and last did go,
The Pilotof the Galilean Lake;
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain110
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:—
“How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Enowof such as, for their bellies’ sake,
Creep, and intrude, andclimb into the fold!115
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
A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least120
That to the faithful herdman’s 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 sheeplook up, and are not fed,125
But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;
Besides whatthe grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said.
Butthat two-handed engine at the door130
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.â€
Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past
That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.135
Ye valleys low,where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lapthe swart starsparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaintenamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring theratheprimrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The glowing violet,145
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears;
Bidamaranthusall his beauty shed,
Anddaffadilliesfill their cups with tears,150
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
For so, to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughtsdally with false surmise.
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where’er thy bones are hurled;155
Whether beyondthe stormy Hebrides,
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old,160
Wherethe 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 hapless youth.
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,165
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, andwith new-spangled ore170
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might ofHim that walked the waves,
Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,175
And hearsthe unexpressive nuptial 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 forever 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.185
Thus sang theuncouthswain to the oaks and rills,Whilethe still morn went out with sandals gray:He touched the tender stops ofvarious quills,With eager thought warbling hisDoriclay:And now the sunhad stretched out all the hills,190And now was dropt into the western bay.At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
Thus sang theuncouthswain to the oaks and rills,
Whilethe still morn went out with sandals gray:
He touched the tender stops ofvarious quills,
With eager thought warbling hisDoriclay:
And now the sunhad stretched out all the hills,190
And now was dropt into the western bay.
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
O Nightingale that on yon bloomy sprayWarblest at eve, when all the woods are still,Thou with fresh hope the lover’s heart dost fill,Whilethe jolly Hourslead on propitious May.Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,5First heard before the shallow cuckoo’s bill,Portend success in love. O, if Jove’s willHave linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,Now timely sing, erethe rude bird of hateForetell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh;10As thou from year to year hast sung too lateFor my relief, yet hadst no reason why.Whether the Muse or Love called thee his mate,Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
O Nightingale that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover’s heart dost fill,
Whilethe jolly Hourslead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,5
First heard before the shallow cuckoo’s bill,
Portend success in love. O, if Jove’s will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, erethe rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh;10
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why.
Whether the Muse or Love called thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
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 truth5That I to manhood am arrived so near;And inward ripeness doth much less appear,That some moretimely-happyspirits endu’th.Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow,It shall be still in strictest measureeven10To that same lot, however mean or high,Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.All is, if I have grace to use it so,As ever in my great Task-Master’s eye.
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 truth5
That I to manhood am arrived so near;
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some moretimely-happyspirits endu’th.
Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measureeven10
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Task-Master’s eye.
Captain orColonel, or Knight in Arms,Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,If deed of honor did thee ever please,Guard them, and him within protect from harms.He can requite thee; for he knows the charms5That call fame on such gentle acts as these,And he can spread thy name o’er lands and seas,Whatever clime the sun’s bright circle warms.Lift not thy spear against the Muses’ bower:The great Emathian conquerorbid spare10The house of Pindarus, when temple and towerWent to the ground; andthe repeated airOf sad Electra’s poethad the powerTo save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.
Captain orColonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honor did thee ever please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
He can requite thee; for he knows the charms5
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o’er lands and seas,
Whatever clime the sun’s bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses’ bower:
The great Emathian conquerorbid spare10
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground; andthe repeated air
Of sad Electra’s poethad the power
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.
Lady, that in the prime of earliest youthWisely hast shunned the broad wayand the green,And with those few art eminently seenThat labor up the hill of heavenly Truth,The better part with Mary and with Ruth5Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,No anger find in thee, but pity andruth.Thy care is fixed, andzealously attendsTo fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,10And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sureThou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friendsPasses to bliss at the mid-hour of night,Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise, and pure.
Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunned the broad wayand the green,
And with those few art eminently seen
That labor up the hill of heavenly Truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth5
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,
No anger find in thee, but pity andruth.
Thy care is fixed, andzealously attends
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,10
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure
Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night,
Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise, and pure.
Daughter to that good Earl, once PresidentOf England’s Council and her Treasury,Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,And left them both, more in himself content,Till the sad breaking of that Parliament5Broke him, asthat dishonest victoryAt Chæronea, fatal to liberty,Killed with reportthat old man eloquent,Thoughlater born than to haveknown the daysWherein your father flourished, yet by you,10Madam, methinks I see him living yet:So well your words his noble virtues praiseThat all both judge you to relate them trueAnd to possess them, honored Margaret.
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Of England’s Council and her Treasury,
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,
Till the sad breaking of that Parliament5
Broke him, asthat dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,
Killed with reportthat old man eloquent,
Thoughlater born than to haveknown the days
Wherein your father flourished, yet by you,10
Madam, methinks I see him living yet:
So well your words his noble virtues praise
That all both judge you to relate them true
And to possess them, honored Margaret.
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured songFirst taught our English music how to spanWords with just note and accent,not to scanWith Midas’ ears,committing short and long,Thyworth and skill exempts theefrom the throng,5With praise enough for Envy to look wan;To after age thou shalt be writ the manThat with smooth aircouldst humor best our tongue.Thou honor’st Verse, and Verse must send her wingTo honor thee, the priest of Phœbus’ quire,10That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higherThan his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song
First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent,not to scan
With Midas’ ears,committing short and long,
Thyworth and skill exempts theefrom the throng,5
With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man
That with smooth aircouldst humor best our tongue.
Thou honor’st Verse, and Verse must send her wing
To honor thee, the priest of Phœbus’ quire,10
That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
Fairfax, whose name in arms 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 unshaken virtue ever brings5Victory home, though new rebellions raiseTheir Hydra heads, andthe false North displaysHer broken leaguetoimp their serpent wings.O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand(For what can war but endless war still breed?)10Till truth and right from violence be freed,And public faith cleared from the shameful brandOf public fraud. In vain dothValorbleed,WhileAvarice and Rapineshare the land.
Fairfax, whose name in arms 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 unshaken virtue ever brings5
Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, andthe false North displays
Her broken leaguetoimp their serpent wings.
O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand
(For what can war but endless war still breed?)10
Till truth and right from violence be freed,
And public faith cleared from the shameful brand
Of public fraud. In vain dothValorbleed,
WhileAvarice and Rapineshare the land.