POEMATA: LATIN, GREEK AND ITALIAN POEMS BY JOHN MILTON (Translated by William Cowper). 

Digraphs, accents and italics have been omitted. Spelling has been modernized. Some notes and Titleshave been slightly edited without comment. Notes followthe poem to which they refer. 

CONTENTS

Complimentary Pieces Addressed to the Author. 

1. Elegies

 Elegy I -To Charles Diodati. Elegy II -On the Death of the University Beadle at Cambridge. Elegy III-On the Death of the Bishop of Winchester. Elegy IV -To My Tutor, Thomas Young. Elegy V -On the Approach of Spring. Elegy VI -To Charles Diodati. Elegy VII On the Gunpowder Plot. Another on the Same. Another on the Same. Another on the Same. On the Invention of Gunpowder. To Leonora, Singing in Rome. Another to the Same. Another to the Same. The Fable of the Peasant and his Landlord. 

2. Poems in Various Metres. 

 On the Death of the Vice-Chancellor, a Physician. On the Fifth of November. On the Death of the Bishop of Ely. That Nature is Not Subject to Decay. On the Platonic Ideal as Understood by Aristotle. To My Father. Psalm CXIV. The Philosopher and the King. On the Engraver of his Portrait. To Giovanni Salzilli. To Giovanni Battista Manso. The Death of Damon. To John Rouse. 

3. Translations of the Italian Poems. 

Appendix: To Christina, Queen of Sweden. Appendix: Translations of Poems in the Latin Prose Works. Appendix: Translation of a Latin Letter. Appendix: Translations of the Italian Poems by George MacDonald (I876). 

 Complimentary Pieces Addressed to the Author. 

1Well as the author knows that the following testimonies are notso much about as above him, and that men of great ingenuity, aswell as our friends, are apt, through abundant zeal, so to praiseus as rather to draw their own likeness than ours, he was yetunwilling that the world should remain always ignorant ofcompositions that do him so much honour; and especially because hehas other friends, who have, with much importunity, solicitedtheir publication. Aware that excessive commendation awakens envy, he would with both hands thrust it from him, preferring just somuch of that dangerous tribute as may of right belong to him; butat the same time he cannot deny that he sets the highest value onthe suffrages of judicious and distinguished persons. 

1 Milton's Preface, Translated. 

1 These complimentary pieces have been sufficiently censuredby a great authority, but no very candid judge either of Miltonor his panegyrists. He, however, must have a heart sadlyindifferent to the glory of his country, who is not gratified bythe thought that she may exult in a son whom, young as he was, the Learned of Italy thus contended to honour. --W. C. 

The Neapolitan, Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, to the Englishman, John Milton. 

What features, form, mien, manners, with a mindOh how intelligent, and how refined!Were but thy piety from fault as free, Thou wouldst no Angle1 but an Angel be. 

1 The reader will perceive that the word "Angle" (i. E. Anglo-Saxon) is essential, because the epigram turns upon it. --W. C. 

An Epigram Addressed to the Englishman, John Milton, a PoetWorthy of the Three Laurels of Poesy, the Grecian, Latin, andEtruscan, by Giovanni Salzilli of Rome

Meles1 and Mincio both your urns depress!Sebetus, boast henceforth thy Tasso less!But let the Thames o'erpeer all floods, since he, For Milton famed, shall, single, match the three. 

1 Meles is a river of Ionia, in the neighborhood of Smyrna, whenceHomer is called Melesigenes. The Mincio watered the city of Mantua famous as the birthplaceof Virgil. Sebetus is now called the Fiume della Maddalena--it runs throughNaples. --W. C. 

 To John Milton. 

Greece sound thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame. --Selvaggi. 

 To John Milton, English Gentleman. 

 An Ode. 

 Exalt Me, Clio, 1 to the skies, That I may form a starry crown, Beyond what Helicon supplies In laureate garlands of renown;To nobler worth be brighter glory given, And to a heavenly mind a recompense from heaven. 

 Time's wasteful hunger cannot prey On everlasting high desert, Nor can Oblivion steal away Its record graven on the heart;Lodge but an arrow, Virtue, on the bowThat binds my lyre, and death shall be a vanquished foe. 

 In Ocean's blazing flood enshrined. Whose vassal tide around her swells, Albion. From other realms disjoined, The prowess of the world excels;She teems with heroes that to glory rise, With more than human force in our astonished eyes. 

 To Virtue, driven from other lands, Their bosoms yield a safe retreat; Her law alone their deed commands, Her smiles they feel divinely sweet;Confirm my record, Milton, generous youth!And by true virtue prove thy virtue's praise a truth. 

 Zeuxis, all energy and flaine, Set ardent forth in his career, Urged to his task by Helen's fame, Resounding ever in his ear;To make his image to her beauty true, From the collected fair each sovereign charm he drew. 2

 The bee, with subtlest skill endued, Thus toils to earn her precious juice, From all the flowery myriads strewed O'er meadow and parterre profuse;Confederate voices one sweet air compound, And various chords consent in one harmonious sound. 

 An artist of celestial aim, Thy genius, caught by moral grace, With ardent emulation's flame The steps of Virtue toiled to trace, Observed in everv land who brightest shone, And blending all their best, make perfect good thy own. 

 Front all in Florence born, or taught Our country's sweetest accent there, Whose works, with learned labor wrought, Immortal honors justly share, Then hast such treasure drawn of purest ore, That not even Tuscan bards can boast a richer store. 

 Babel, confused, and with her towers Unfinished spreading wide and plain, Has served but to evince thy powers, With all hot, tongues confused in vain, Since not alone thy England's purest phrase, But every polished realm thy various speech displays. 

 The secret things of heaven and earth, By nature, too reserved. Concealed From other minds of highest worth, To thee ate copiously revealed;Thou knowest them clearly, and thy views attainThe utmost bounds prescribed to moral truth's domain. 

 Let Time no snore his wing display, And boast his ruinous career, For Virtue, rescued front his sway. His injuries may cease to fear;Since all events that claim remembrance findA chronicle exact in thy capacious mind. 

 Give me, that I may praise thy song, Thy lyre, by which alone I can, Which, placing thee the stars among, Already proves thee more than man;And Thames shall seem Permessus, 3 while his streamGraced with a swan like thee. Shall be my favorite theme. 

 I, who beside the Arno, strain To match thy merit with my lays, Learn, after many an effort vain, To admure thee rather than to praise;And that by mute astonishment alone, Not by the fathering tongue, thy worth may best be shown. 

 --Signor Antonio Francini, Gentleman, of Florence. 

1 The muse of History. 

2 The portrait of Helen was painted at the request of the peopleof Crotna, who sent to the artist all their lovliest girls formodels. Zeuxis selected five, and united their separate beautiesin his picture. 

3 A river in Boeotia which took its rise in Helicon. See VirgilEcl. Vi. 64

 To Mr. John Milton of London

A youth eminent from his country and his virtues, Who in his travels has made himself acquainted with manynations, and in his studies, with all, that, life anotherUlysses, lie might learn all that all could teach him;

Skilful in many tongues, on whose lips languages now mute solive again, that the idioms of all are insufficient to hispraise; happy acquisition by which he understands theuniversal admiration and applause his talents trace excited;

Whose endowments of mind and person move us to wonder, but at the same time fixus immovable: whose works prompt us toextol him, but by their beauty strike us mute;

In whose memory the whole world is treasured; in whoseintellect, wisdom; in whose heart, the ardent desire forglory; and in whose mouth, eloquence. Who with Astronomy forhis conductor, hears the music of the spheres; withPhilosophy for the teacher, deciphers the hand-writing ofGod, in those wonders of creation which proclaim Hisgreatness; and with the most unwearied literary industry forhis associate, examines, restores, penetrates with case theobscurities of antiquity, the desolations of ages, and thelabyrinths of learning;

 "But wherefore toil to reach these arduous heights?"

To him, in short, whose virtues the mouths of Fame are too few to celebrate, andwhom astonishment forbids us to praisea he deserves, this tribute due to his merits, and theoffering of reverence and affection, is paid by Carlo Dati, apatrician Florentine. This great man's servant, and this good man's friend. 

 In Miltonum. 1

Tres tria, sed longe distantia, saecula vatesOstentant tribus e gentibus eximios. Graecia sublimem, cum majestate disertumRoma tulit, felix Anglia utrique parem. Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est, Tertis ut fieret, consociare duos. --Joannem Dridenum. 

1 Translation of Dryden's Lines Printed Under theEngraved Portrait of Milton in Tonson's Folio Editionof "Paradise Lost, " I688. 

Stanzas on the Late Indecent Liberties Taken withthe Remains of the Great Milton, by Wm. Cowper, Esq. 1

Me too, perchance, in future days, The sculptur'd stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle, or with bays Parnessian, on my brow. 

But I, before that season come, Escap'd from ev'ry care, Shall reach my refuge in the tomb, And sleep securely there. 

So sang in Roman tone and style The youthful bard, ere longOrdain'd to grace his native isle With her sublimest song. 

Who then but must conceive disdain, Hearing the deed unblestOf wretches who have dar'd profane His dread sepulchral rest?

Ill fare the hands that heav'd the stones Where Milton's ashes lay!That trembled not to grasp his bones. And steal his dust away!

Oh! ill-requited bard! Neglect Thy living worth repaid, And blind idolatrous respect As much affronts thee dead. 

1 This shocking outrage took place in I790 whilst the Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, was repairing. The overseers (for the sake of gain) opened a coffinsupposed to be Milton's, found a body, extracted its teeth, cut off its hair, and left the remains to the grave-diggers, who exhibited them for money to thepublic. 

 Forsitan & nostros ducat de marmore vultus, Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri Fronde comas, at ego secura pace quiescam. --Milton. "Mansus" ("Manso")

 Cowper's translation :

 To honour me, and with the graceful wreath Or of Parnassus or the Paphian isle Shall bind my brows--but I shall rest the while. "

POEMATA

1. ELEGIES

 ELEGY I

 To Charles Diodati. 1

At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come, Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home, They come, at length, from Deva's2 Western side, Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide. 3Trust me, my joy is great that thou shouldst be, Though born of foreign race, yet born for me, And that my sprightly friend, now free to roam, Must seek again so soon his wonted home. I well content, where Thames with refluent tideMy native city laves, meantime reside, 10Nor zeal nor duty, now, my steps impellTo reedy Cam, 4 and my forbidden cell. 5Nor aught of pleasure in those fields have I, That, to the musing bard, all shade deny. Tis time, that I, a pedant's threats6 disdain, And fly from wrongs, my soul will ne'er sustain. If peaceful days, in letter'd leisure spentBeneath my father's roof, be banishment, Then call me banish'd, I will ne'er refuseA name expressive of the lot I chuse. 20I would that exiled to the Pontic shore, Rome's hapless bard7 had suffer'd nothing more!He then had equall'd even Homer's lays, And, Virgil! thou hadst won but second praise. For here I woo the Muse with no control, And here my books--my life--absorb me whole. Here too I visit, or to smile, or weep, The winding theatre's majestic sweep;The grave or gay colloquial scene recruitsMy spirits spent in Learning's long pursuits. 30Whether some Senior shrewd, or spendthrift heir, Wooer, or soldier, now unarm'd, be there, Or some coif'd brooder o'er a ten years' causeThunder the Norman gibb'rish of the laws. The lacquey, there, oft dupes the wary sire, And, artful, speeds th'enamour'd son's desire. There, virgins oft, unconscious what they prove, What love is, know not, yet, unknowing, love. Or, if impassion'd Tragedy wield highThe bloody sceptre, give her locks to fly 40Wild as the winds, and roll her haggard eye, I gaze, and grieve, still cherishing my grief. At times, e'en bitter tears! yield sweet relief. As when from bliss untasted torn away, Some youth dies, hapless, on his bridal day, Or when the ghost, sent back from shades below, Fills the assassin's heart with vengeful woe, When Troy, or Argos, the dire scene affords, Or Creon's hall8 laments its guilty lords. Nor always city-pent or pent at home 50I dwell, but when Spring calls me forth to roamExpatiate in our proud suburban shadesOf branching elm that never sun pervades. Here many a virgin troop I may descry, Like stars of mildest influence, gliding by, Oh forms divine! Oh looks that might inspireE'en Jove himself, grown old, with young desire!Oft have I gazed on gem-surpassing eyes, Outsparkling every star that gilds the skies. Necks whiter than the iv'ry arm bestow'd 60By Jove on Pelops, or the Milky Road!Bright locks, Love's golden snares, these falling low, Those playing wanton o'er the graceful brow!Cheeks too, more winning sweet than after show'r, Adonis turn'd to Flora's fav'rite flow'r!Yield, Heroines, yield, and ye who shar'd th'embraceOf Jupiter in ancient times, give place;Give place ye turban'd Fair of Persia's coast, And ye, not less renown'd, Assyria's boast!Submit, ye nymphs of Greece! Ye once the bloom 70Of Ilion, 9 and all ye of haughty Rome, Who swept of old her theatres with trainsRedundant, and still live in classic strains!To British damsels beauty's palm is due, Aliens! to follow them is fame for you. Oh city, 10 founded by Dardanian hands, Whose towering front the circling realm commands, Too blest abode! no loveliness we seeIn all the earth, but it abounds in thee. The virgin multitude that daily meets, 80Radiant with gold and beauty, in thy streets, Outnumbers all her train of starry firesWith which Diana gilds thy lofty spires. Fame says, that wafted hither by her doves, With all her host of quiver-bearing Loves, Venus, prefering Paphian scenes no more, Has fix'd her empire on thy nobler shore. But lest the sightless boy inforce my stay, I leave these happy walls, while yet I may. Immortal Moly11 shall secure my heart 90From all the sorc'ry of Circaean art, And I will e'en repass Cam's reedy poolsTo face once more the warfare of the Schools. Meantime accept this trifle; Rhymes, though few, Yet such as prove thy friend's remembrance true. 

1 Diodati was a schoolfellow of Milton at St. Paul's, of Italianextraction, nephew of Giovanni Diodati, the translator of theBible into Italian, and son of Theodore Diodati, a physician ofeminence, who married and settled in England. Charles Diodati'searly death formed the subject of The "Epitaphium Damonis" ("TheDeath of Damon"). 

2 The Dee of Chester. 

3 The Vergivian Sea, so called by Ptolemy, was the Irish Seabetween England and Ireland. 

4 Cambridge. 

5 Milton had been rusticated (suspended) on account of a quarrel with his tutor, Chappell. 

6 Chappell. 

7 Ovid. 

8 In Thebes--the guilty lords are Eteocles and Polynices thebrothers-sons of Oedipus and Jocasta, who fell in their unnaturalstrife. 

9 Troy. 

10 London. The Dardanian (i. E. Trojan) hands are those of Brutus, the legendary founder of London. 

11 The magical plant by which Odysseus was enabled to escape fromCirce. See Homer (Odyssey, x. 370-375). 

 ELEGY II

On the Death of the University Beadle at Cambridge. 1

Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear, Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey, Although thyself an herald, famous here, The last of heralds, Death, has snatch'd away. He calls on all alike, nor even deignsTo spare the office that himself sustains. 

Thy locks were whiter than the plumes display'd By Leda's paramour2 in ancient time, But thou wast worthy ne'er to have decay'd, Or, Aeson-like, 3 to know a second prime, 10Worthy for whom some Goddess should have wonNew life, oft kneeling to Apollo's son. 4

Commission'd to convene with hasty call The gowned tribes, how graceful wouldst thou stand!So stood Cyllenius5 erst in Priam's hall, Wing-footed messenger of Jove's command, And so, Eurybates6 when he address'dTo Peleus' son Atrides' proud behest. 

Dread Queen of sepulchres! whose rig'rous laws And watchful eyes, run through the realms below, 20Oh, oft too adverse to Minerva's cause, Too often to the Muse not less a foe, Chose meaner marks, and with more equal aimPierce useless drones, earth's burthen and its shame!

Flow, therefore, tears for Him from ev'ry eye, All ye disciples of the Muses, weep!Assembling, all, in robes of sable dye, Around his bier, lament his endless sleep, And let complaining Elegy rehearseIn every School her sweetest saddest verse. 30

1 Richard Redding of St. John's College, M. A. He died in October, I626. 

2 The Swan--Jove had turned himself into that bird. 

3 i. E. Jason, who was restored to youth by his daughter Medea. 

4 Esculapius, the god of medicine. 

5 Hermes. 

6 One of the heralds sent to Achilles by Agamemnon. 

 ELEGY III Anno Aetates 17. 1

 On the Death of the Bishop of Winchester. 2

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone, Making in thought the public woes my own, When, first, arose the image in my breastOf England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest. 3How death, his fun'ral torch and scythe in hand, Ent'ring the lordliest mansions of the land, Has laid the gem-illumin'd palace low, And level'd tribes of Nobles at a blow. I, next, deplor'd the famed fraternal pair4Too soon to ashes turn'd and empty air, 10The Heroes next, whom snatch'd into the skiesAll Belgia saw, and follow'd with her sighs;But Thee far most I mourn'd, regretted most, Winton's chief shepherd and her worthiest boast;Pour'd out in tears I thus complaining said--Death, next in pow'r to Him who rules the Dead!Is't not enough that all the woodlands yieldTo thy fell force, and ev'ry verdant field, That lilies, at one noisome blast of thine, And ev'n the Cyprian Queen's own roses, pine, 20That oaks themselves, although the running rillSuckle their roots, must wither at thy will, That all the winged nations, even thoseWhose heav'n-directed flight the Future shows, And all the beasts that in dark forests stray, And all the herds of Proteus5 are thy prey?Ah envious! arm'd with pow'rs so unconfinedWhy stain thy hands with blood of Human kind?Why take delight, with darts that never roam, To chase a heav'n-born spirit from her home? 30 While thus I mourn'd, the star of evening stood, Now newly ris'n, above the western flood, And Phoebus from his morning-goal againHad reach'd the gulphs of the Iberian main. I wish'd repose, and, on my couch reclinedTook early rest, to night and sleep resign'd, When--Oh for words to paint what I beheld!I seem'd to wander in a spacious field, Where all the champain glow'd with purple lightLike that of sun-rise on the mountain height; 40Flow'rs over all the field, of ev'ry hueThat ever Iris wore, luxuriant grew, Nor Chloris, 6 with whom amtrous Zephyrs play, E'er dress'd Alcinous' gardens7 half so gay. A silver current, like the Tagus, roll'dO'er golden sands, but sands of purer gold, With dewy airs Favonius fann'd the flow'rs, With airs awaken'd under rosy bow'rs. Such poets feign, irradiated all o'erThe sun's abode on India's utmost shore. 50 While I, that splendour and the mingled shadeOf fruitful vines, with wonder fixt survey'd, At once, with looks that beam'd celestial grace, The Seer of Winton stood before my face. His snowy vesture's hem descending lowHis golden sandals swept, and pure as snowNew-fallen shone the mitre on his brow. Where'er he trod, a tremulous sweet soundOf gladness shook the flow'ry scene around:Attendant angels clap their starry wings, 60The trumpet shakes the sky, all aether rings, Each chaunts his welcome, folds him to his breast, And thus a sweeter voice than all the rest. "Ascend, my son! thy Father's kingdom share, My son! henceforth be free'd from ev'ry care. " So spake the voice, and at its tender closeWith psaltry's sound th'Angelic band arose. Then night retired, and chased by dawning dayThe visionary bliss pass'd all away. I mourn'd my banish'd sleep with fond concern, 70Frequent, to me may dreams like this return. 

1 i. E. "In my seventeeth year, " meaning at the age of sixteen. 

2 Lancelot Andrewes, Fuller's "peerless prelate. "

3 The plague which ravaged England in I626. 

4 Prince Christian of Brunswick, and Count Mansfelt. They werebrothers in arms and the Protestant champions. They both died inI626. 

5 Marine creatures. Proteus was the shepherd of the seas. 

6 Flora. 

7 See the account of his gardens in the Odyssey. 

 ELEGY IV. Anno Aetates 18. 

 To My Tutor, Thomas Young, 1Chaplain of the English Merchants Resident at Hamburg. 

Hence, my epistle--skim the Deep--fly o'erYon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore!Haste--lest a friend should grieve for thy delay--And the Gods grant that nothing thwart thy way!I will myself invoke the King2 who bindsIn his Sicanian ecchoing vault the winds, With Doris3 and her Nymphs, and all the throngOf azure Gods, to speed thee safe along. But rather, to insure thy happier haste, Ascend Medea's chariot, 4 if thou may'st, 10Or that whence young Triptolemus5 of yoreDescended welcome on the Scythian shore. The sands that line the German coast descried, To opulent Hamburg turn aside, So call'd, if legendary fame be true, From Hama, 6 whom a club-arm'd Cimbrian slew. There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just, A faithful steward of his Christian trust, My friend, and favorite inmate of my heart--That now is forced to want its better part! 20What mountains now, and seas, alas! how wide!From me this other, dearer self divide, Dear, as the sage7 renown'd for moral truthTo the prime spirit of the Attic youth!Dear, as the Stagyrite8 to Ammon's son, 9His pupil, who disdain'd the world he won!Nor so did Chiron, or so Phoenix shine10In young Achilles' eyes, as He in mine. First led by him thro' sweet Aonian11 shadeEach sacred haunt of Pindus I survey'd; 30And favor'd by the muse, whom I implor'd, Thrice on my lip the hallow'd stream I pour'd. But thrice the Sun's resplendent chariot roll'dTo Aries, has new ting'd his fleece with gold, And Chloris twice has dress'd the meadows gay, And twice has Summer parch'd their bloom away, Since last delighted on his looks I hung, Or my ear drank the music of his tongue. Fly, therefore, and surpass the tempest's speed!Aware thyself that there is urgent need. 40Him, ent'ring, thou shalt haply seated seeBeside his spouse, his infants on his knee, Or turning page by page with studious lookSome bulky Father, or God's Holy Book, Or minist'ring (which is his weightiest care)To Christ's assembled flock their heav'nly fare. Give him, whatever his employment be, Such gratulation as he claims from me, And with a down-cast eye and carriage meekAddressing him, forget not thus to speak. 50 If, compass'd round with arms, thou canst attendTo verse, verse greets thee from a distant friend, Long due and late I left the English shore, But make me welcome for that cause the more. Such from Ulysses, his chaste wife to cheer, The slow epistle came, tho' late, sincere. But wherefore This? why palliate I a deed, For which the culprit's self could hardly plead?Self-charged and self-condemn'd, his proper partHe feels neglected, with an aching heart; 60But Thou forgive--Delinquents who confess, And pray forgiveness, merit anger less;From timid foes the lion turns away, Nor yawns upon or rends a crouching prey, Even pike-wielding Thracians learn to spare, Won by soft influence of a suppliant's prayer;And heav'n's dread thunderbolt arrested standsBy a cheap victim and uplifted hands. Long had he wish'd to write, but was witheld, And writes at last, by love alone compell'd, 70For Fame, too often true when she alarms, Reports thy neighbouring-fields a scene of arms;12Thy city against fierce besiegers barr'd, And all the Saxon Chiefs for fight prepar'd. Enyo13 wastes thy country wide around, And saturates with blood the tainted ground;Mars rests contented in his Thrace no more, But goads his steeds to fields of German gore, The ever-verdant olive fades and dies, And peace, the trumpet-hating goddess, flies, 80Flies from that earth which justice long had left, And leaves the world of its last guard bereft. Thus horror girds thee round. Meantime aloneThou dwell'st, and helpless in a soil unknown, Poor, and receiving from a foreign handThe aid denied thee in thy native land. Oh, ruthless country, and unfeeling moreThan thy own billow-beaten chalky shore!Leav'st Thou to foreign Care the Worthies giv'nBy providence, to guide thy steps to Heav'n? 90His ministers, commission'd to proclaimEternal blessings in a Saviour's name?Ah then most worthy! with a soul unfedIn Stygian night to lie for ever dead. So once the venerable Tishbite stray'dAn exil'd fugitive from shade to shade, When, flying Ahab and his Fury wife, In lone Arabian wilds he shelter'd life;So, from Philippi wander'd forth forlornCilician Paul, with sounding scourges torn; 100And Christ himself so left and trod no moreThe thankless Gergesenes' forbidden shore. But thou take courage, strive against despair, Quake not with dread, nor nourish anxious care. Grim war indeed on ev'ry side appears, And thou art menac'd by a thousand spears, Yet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offendEv'n the defenceless bosom of my friend;For thee the Aegis of thy God shall hide, Jehova's self shall combat on thy side, 110The same, who vanquish'd under Sion's tow'rsAt silent midnight all Assyria's pow'rs, The same who overthrew in ages past, Damascus' sons that lay'd Samaria waste;Their King he fill'd and them with fatal fearsBy mimic sounds of clarions in their ears, Of hoofs and wheels and neighings from afarOf clanging armour and the din of war. Thou therefore, (as the most affiicted may)Still hope, and triumph o'er thy evil day, 120Look forth, expecting happier times to come, And to enjoy once more thy native home!

1 Young was private tutor to Milton before he went to St. Paul's. (Milton'sprose letter to Young is included in an appendix below. )

2 Aeolus, god of the east wind. Sicania was a name for Sicily. 

3 Mother of the Nereids (sea-nymphs). 

4 Drawn by winged dragons. 

5 Triptolemus was presented by Ceres with a winged chariot. 

6 A Saxon warrior slain by a giant. 

7 Socrates. 8 Aristotle. 9 Alexander. 

10 Chiron and Phoenix were the tutors of Achilles. 

11 Helicon. 

12 Alluding to the war between the Protestant League and theImperialists. 

13 The goddess of war. 

 ELEGY V. Anno Aetates 20. 

 On the Approach of Spring. 

Time, never wand'ring from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground;Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, And earth assumes her transient youth again. Dream I, or also to the Spring belongIncrease of Genius, and new pow'rs of song?Spring gives them, and, how strange soere it seem, Impels me now to some harmonious theme. Castalia's fountain and the forked hill1By day, by night, my raptur'd fancy fill, 10My bosom burns and heaves, I hear withinA sacred sound that prompts me to begin, Lo! Phoebus comes, with his bright hair he blendsThe radiant laurel wreath; Phoebus descends;I mount, and, undepress'd by cumb'rous clay, Through cloudy regions win my easy way;Rapt through poetic shadowy haunts I fly:The shrines all open to my dauntless eye, My spirit searches all the realms of light, And no Tartarean gulphs elude my sight. 20But this ecstatic trance--this glorious stormOf inspiration--what will it perform?Spring claims the verse that with his influence glows, And shall be paid with what himself bestows. Thou, veil'd with op'ning foliage, lead'st the throngOf feather'd minstrels, Philomel! in song;Let us, in concert, to the season sing, Civic, and sylvan heralds of the spring! With notes triumphant spring's approach declare!To spring, ye Muses, annual tribute bear! 30The Orient left and Aethiopia's plainsThe Sun now northward turns his golden reins, Night creeps not now, yet rules with gentle sway, And drives her dusky horrors swift away;Now less fatigued on his aetherial plainBootes2 follows his celestial wain;And now the radiant centinels aboveLess num'rous watch around the courts of Jove, For, with the night, Force, Ambush, Slaughter fly, And no gigantic guilt alarms the sky. 40Now haply says some shepherd, while he views, Recumbent on a rock, the redd'ning dews, This night, this surely, Phoebus miss'd the fair, Who stops his chariot by her am'rous care. Cynthia, 3 delighted by the morning's glow, Speeds to the woodland, and resumes her bow;Resigns her beams, and, glad to disappear, Blesses his aid who shortens her career. Come--Phoebus cries--Aurora come--too lateThou linger'st slumb'ring with thy wither'd mate, 4 50Leave Him, and to Hymettus' top repair, Thy darling Cephalus expects thee there. The goddess, with a blush, her love betrays, But mounts, and driving rapidly obeys. Earth now desires thee, Phoebus! and, t'engageThy warm embrace, casts off the guise of age. Desires thee, and deserves; for who so sweet, When her rich bosom courts thy genial heat?Her breath imparts to ev'ry breeze that blowsArabia's harvest and the Paphian rose. 60Her lofty front she diadems aroundWith sacred pines, like Ops on Ida crown'd, Her dewy locks with various flow'rs new-blown, She interweaves, various, and all her own, For Proserpine in such a wreath attiredTaenarian Dis5 himself with love inspired. Fear not, lest, cold and coy, the Nymph refuse, Herself, with all her sighing Zephyrs sues, Each courts thee fanning soft his scented wing, And all her groves with warbled wishes ring. 70Nor, unendow'd and indigent, aspiresTh'am'rous Earth to engage thy warm desires, But, rich in balmy drugs, assists thy claimDivine Physician! to that glorious name. If splendid recompense, if gifts can moveDesire in thee (gifts often purchase love), She offers all the wealth, her mountains hide, And all that rests beneath the boundless tide. How oft, when headlong from the heav'nly steepShe sees thee plunging in the Western Deep 80How oft she cries--Ah Phoebus! why repairThy wasted force, why seek refreshment there?Can Tethys6 win thee? wherefore should'st thou laveA face so fair in her unpleasant wave?Come, seek my green retreats, and rather chuseTo cool thy tresses in my chrystal dews, The grassy turf shall yield thee sweeter rest, Come, lay thy evening glories on my breast, And breathing fresh through many a humid rose, Soft whisp'ring airs shall lull thee to repose. 90No fears I feel like Semele7 to die, Nor lest thy burning wheels8 approach too nigh, For thou can'st govern them. Here therefore rest, And lay thy evening glories on my breast. Thus breathes the wanton Earth her am'rous flame, And all her countless offspring feel the same;For Cupid now through every region straysBright'ning his faded fires with solar rays, His new-strung bow sends forth a deadlier sound, And his new-pointed shafts more deeply wound, 100Nor Dian's self escapes him now untried, Nor even Vesta9 at her altar-side;His mother too repairs her beauty's wane, And seems sprung newly from the Deep again. Exulting youths the Hymenaeal10 sing, With Hymen's name roofs, rocks, and valleys ring;He, new attired and by the season dress'dProceeds all fragrant in his saffron vest. Now, many a golden-cinctur'd virgin rovesTo taste the pleasures of the fields and groves, 110All wish, and each alike, some fav'rite youthHers in the bonds of Hymenaeal truth. Now pipes the shepherd through his reeds again, Nor Phyllis wants a song that suits the strain, With songs the seaman hails the starry sphere, And dolphins rise from the abyss to hear, Jove feels, himself, the season, sports againWith his fair spouse, and banquets all his train. Now too the Satyrs in the dusk of EveTheir mazy dance through flow'ry meadows weave, 120And neither God nor goat, but both in kind, Sylvanus, 11 wreath'd with cypress, skips behind. The Dryads leave the hollow sylvan cellsTo roam the banks, and solitary dells;Pan riots now; and from his amorous chafeCeres12 and Cybele seem hardly safe, And Faunus, 13 all on fire to reach the prize, In chase of some enticing Oread14 flies;She bounds before, but fears too swift a bound, And hidden lies, but wishes to be found. 130Our shades entice th'Immortals from above, And some kind Pow'r presides oter ev'ry grove, And long ye Pow'rs o'er ev'ry grove preside, For all is safe and blest where ye abide!Return O Jove! the age of gold restore--Why chose to dwell where storms and thunders roar?At least, thou, Phoebus! moderate thy speed, Let not the vernal hours too swift proceed, Command rough Winter back, nor yield the poleToo soon to Night's encroaching, long control. 140

1 Helicon. 

2 The Great Bear, called also Charles's Wain (wagon). "Bootes" isthe constellation called "The Waggoner, " who is said to be "lessfatigued" because he drives the wain higher in the sky. 

3 Diana (the Moon). 

4 Tithonus, mortal husband to Aurora (the dawn), grantedimmortality without eternal youth. See Homer's Hymn to Aphrodite(lines 218-238). Cephalus was her lover, unwillingly taken by herfrom his beloved wife Procris. See Ovid (Met. Vii, 700-708). 

5 Hades (Pluto). 

6 A water goddess--mother of the river gods and wife of Oceanus. 

7 The mother of Dionysus. Juno persuaded her to ask to see Jove inall his divine glory, the vision of which struck her dead. SeeOvid (Met. Iii, 308-309. )

8 The wheels of Apollo's chariot. See Ovid (Met. Ii, I9-328. )

9 The goddess of chastity. 

10 Hymn to Hymen, the goddess of marriage. 11 The wood god. 

12 The goddess of agriculture. Cybele (Rhea) was called the motherof the gods and of men. See Virgil (Aen. X, 252-253. )

13 The god of shepherds. 14 A wood nymph. 

 ELEGY VI

 To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting in the Country

Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested thathis verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on accountof the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and whichwould not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished. 

With no rich viands overcharg'd, I sendHealth, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend;But wherefore should thy Muse tempt mine awayFrom what she loves, from darkness into day?Art thou desirous to be told how wellI love thee, and in verse? Verse cannot tell. For verse has bounds, and must in measure move;But neither bounds nor measure knows my love. How pleasant in thy lines described appearDecember's harmless sports and rural cheer! 10French spirits kindling with caerulean fires, And all such gambols as the time inspires! Think not that Wine against good verse offends;The Muse and Bacchus have been always friends, Nor Phoebus blushes sometimes to be foundWith Ivy, rather than with Laurel, crown'd. The Nine themselves oftimes have join'd the songAnd revels of the Bacchanalian throng. Not even Ovid could in Scythian airSing sweetly--why? no vine would flourish there. 20What in brief numbers sang Anacreon's1 muse?Wine, and the rose, that sparkling wine bedews. Pindar with Bacchus glows--his every lineBreathes the rich fragrance of inspiring wine, While, with loud crash o'erturn'd, the chariot liesAnd brown with dust the fiery courser flies. The Roman lyrist steep'd in wine his laysSo sweet in Glycera's, and Chloe's praise. 2Now too the plenteous feast, and mantling bowlNourish the vigour of thy sprightly soul; 30The flowing goblet makes thy numbers flow, And casks not wine alone, but verse, bestow. Thus Phoebus favours, and the arts attendWhom Bacchus, and whom Ceres, both befriend. What wonder then, thy verses are so sweet, In which these triple powers so kindly meet. The lute now also sounds, with gold inwrought, And touch'd with flying Fingers nicely taught, In tap'stried halls high-roof'd the sprightly lyreDirects the dancers of the virgin choir. 40If dull repletion fright the Muse away, Sights, gay as these, may more invite her stay;And, trust me, while the iv'ry keys resound, Fair damsels sport, and perfumes steam around, Apollo's influence, like ethereal flameShall animate at once thy glowing frame, And all the Muse shall rush into thy breast, By love and music's blended pow'rs possest. For num'rous pow'rs light Elegy befriend, Hear her sweet voice, and at her call attend; 50Her, Bacchus, Ceres, Venus, all approve, And with his blushing Mother, gentle Love. Hence, to such bards we grant the copious useOf banquets, and the vine's delicious juice. But they who Demigods and Heroes praiseAnd feats perform'd in Jove's more youthful days, Who now the counsels of high heav'n explore, Now shades, that echo the Cerberean roar, 3Simply let these, like him of Samos4 live, Let herbs to them a bloodless banquet give; 60In beechen goblets let their bev'rage shine, Cool from the chrystal spring, their sober wine!Their youth should pass, in innocence, secureFrom stain licentious, and in manners pure, Pure as the priest's, when robed in white he standsThe fresh lustration ready in his hands. Thus Linus5 liv'd, and thus, as poets write, Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight, 6Thus exil'd Chalcas, 7 thus the bard of Thrace, 8Melodious tamer of the savage race! 70Thus train'd by temp'rance, Homer led, of yore, His chief of Ithaca9 from shore to shore, Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign, And shoals insidious with the siren train;And through the realms, where griesly spectres dwell, Whose tribes he fetter'd in a gory spell;For these are sacred bards, and, from above, Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove. Would'st thou (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear)Would'st thou be told my occupation here? 80The promised King of peace employs my pen, Th'eternal cov'nant made for guilty men, The new-born Deity with infant criesFilling the sordid hovel, where he lies;The hymning Angels, and the herald starThat led the Wise who sought him from afar, And idols on their own unhallow'd floorDash'd at his birth, to be revered no more! This theme10 on reeds of Albion I rehearse;The dawn of that blest day inspired the verse; 90Verse that, reserv'd in secret, shall attendThy candid voice, my Critic and my Friend!

1 A poet native to Teios in Ionia. 

2 See Horace's Odes (i, 19-23). 

3 Cerberus, the guardian of Hades. 

4 Pythagoras. 5 A son of Apollo. 

6 Tiresias was gifted by Pallas with the power of understandingthe language of birds to atone for his loss of sight. 

7 The Grecian soothsayer at the siege of Troy. 8 Orpheus. 

9 Odysseus. 

10 "The Hymn" from "On the Morning of Christ's Nativity. "

 Elegy VI. Anno Aetates undevigesimo. 1

As yet a stranger to the gentle firesThat Amathusia's smiling Queen2 inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts, And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts. Go, child, I said, transfix the tim'rous dove, An easy conquest suits an infant Love;Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall beSufficient triumph to a Chief like thee;Why aim thy idle arms at human kind?Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind. 10 The Cyprian3 heard, and, kindling into ire, (None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire. It was the Spring, and newly risen dayPeep'd o'er the hamlets on the First of May;My eyes too tender for the blaze of light, Still sought the shelter of retiring night, When Love approach'd, in painted plumes arrayed;Th'insidious god his rattling darts betray'd, Nor less his infant features, and the slySweet intimations of his threat'ning eye. 20 Such the Sigeian boy4 is seen above, Filling the goblet for imperial Jove;Such he, on whom the nymphs bestow'd their charms, Hylas, 5 who perish'd in a Naiad's arms. Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire, And added threats, not destitute of fire. "My power, " he said, "by others pain alone, 'Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own!With those, who feel my power, that pow'r attest!And in thy anguish be my sway confest! 30I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vainFrom his new triumph o'er the Python slain, And, when he thinks on Daphne, 6 even HeWill yield the prize of archery to me. A dart less true the Parthian horseman7 sped, Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled, Less true th'expert Cydonian, and less trueThe youth, whose shaft his latent Procris slew. 8Vanquish'd by me see huge Orion bend, By me Alcides, 9 and Alcides's friend. 10 40At me should Jove himself a bolt design, His bosom first should bleed transfix'd by mine. But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain, Nor shall it teach thee with a trivial pain, Thy Muse, vain youth! shall not thy peace ensure, Nor Phoebus' serpent yield thy wound a cure. 11 He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air, Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair. That thus a child should bluster in my earProvok'd my laughter more than mov'd my fear. 50I shun'd not, therefore, public haunts, but stray'dCareless in city, or suburban shade, And passing and repassing nymphs that mov'dWith grace divine, beheld where'er I rov'd. Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze, As beauty gave new force to Phoebus' rays. By no grave scruples check'd I freely eyedThe dang'rous show, rash youth my only guide, And many a look of many a Fair unknownMet full, unable to control my own. 60But one I mark'd (then peace forsook my breast)One--Oh how far superior to the rest!What lovely features! Such the Cyprian QueenHerself might wish, and Juno wish her mien. The very nymph was she, whom when I dar'dHis arrows, Love had even then prepar'd. Nor was himself remote, nor unsuppliedWith torch well-trimm'd and quiver at his side;Now to her lips he clung, her eye-lids now, Then settled on her cheeks or on her brow. 70And with a thousand wounds from ev'ry partPierced and transpierced my undefended heart. A fever, new to me, of fierce desireNow seiz'd my soul, and I was all on fire, But she, the while, whom only I adore, Was gone, and vanish'd to appear no more. In silent sadness I pursue my way, I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay, And while I follow her in thought, bemoanWith tears my soul's delight so quickly flown. 80When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast12So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost, And so Oeclides, sinking into night, From the deep gulph look'd up to distant light. 13 Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remainWho cannot cease to love, yet love in vain?Oh could I once, once more, behold the Fair, Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear, Perhaps she is not adamant, would showPerhaps some pity at my tale of woe. 90Oh inauspicious flame--'tis mine to proveA matchless instance of disastrous love. Ah spare me, gentle Pow'r!--If such thou beLet not thy deeds, and nature disagree. Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts:Now own thee sov'reign of all human hearts. Spare me, and I will worship at no shrineWith vow and sacrifice, save only thine. Remove! no--grant me still this raging woe!Sweet is the wretchedness, that lovers know: 100But pierce hereafter (should I chance to seeOne destined mine) at once both her and me. ___________________________________________________________14

Such were the trophies, that in earlier days, By vanity seduced I toil'd to raise, Studious yet indolent, and urg'd by youth, That worst of teachers, from the ways of Truth;Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r, To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r. Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame supprest, A frost continual settled on my breast, 110Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see, And Venus dreads a Diomede15 in me. 

1 i. E. "In my nineteenth year. "

2 Venus (Aphrodite), so called from Amethus in Cyprus, where shehad a temple. 

3 Cupid, called after his mother's title. 

4 Ganymede, whom Jove, in the form of an eagle, spirited away toserve as his cup-bearer. See Ovid (Met. X, 155-161)

5 The friend of Hercules, stolen by nymphs who had fallen in lovewith him. 

6 She fled from Apollo, and was transformed into a laurel. 

7 The Roman Crassus was defeated in 53 B. C. By the Parthiancavalry when they fired backwards with devastating effect. The Cydonians werealso famed for their skill in archery. 

8 Cephalus, who shot his wife Procris by mistake. 

9 Hercules. 10 Telemon. 

11 Esculapius, who came to Rome in the form of a snake. 

12 Vulcan (Hephaestus) was cast down from Olympus to the isle ofLemnos. 

13 One of the Argonauts. He was swallowed up by the sea. 

14 A later retraction by Milton. The line appears in the original to separate itfrom what came before it. 

15 Diomedes wounded Venus (Aphrodite) at Troy. See Homer (Il. V, 335-343)

 On the Gunpowder Plot. 1

Cum simul in regem nuper satrapasque Britannos Ausus es infandum perfide Fauxe nefas, Fallor? an & mitis voluisti ex parte videri, Et pensare mala cum pietate scelus;Scilicet hos alti missurus ad atria caeli, Sulphureo curru flammivolisque rotis. Qualiter ille feris caput inviolabile Parcis Liquit Jordanios turbine raptus agros. 

1 The Poems on the subject of the Gunpowder Treason2 I have nottranslated, both because the matter of them is unpleasant, andbecause they are written with an asperity, which, however it mightbe warranted in Milton's day, would be extremely unseasonablenow. --W. C. 

2 This includes "On the Fifth of November" below. 

 Another on the Same. 

Siccine tentasti caelo donasse Jacobum Quae septemgemino Bellua monte lates?Ni meliora tuum poterit dare munera numen, Parce precor donis insidiosa tuis. Ille quidem sine te consortia serus adivit Astra, nec inferni pulveris usus ope. Sic potius foedus in caelum pelle cucullos, Et quot habet brutos Roma profana Deos, Namque hac aut alia quemque adjuveris arte, Crede mihi, caeli vix bene scandet iter. 10

 Another on the Same. 

Purgatorem animae derisit Jacobus ignem, Et sine quo superum non adeunda domus. Frenduit hoc trina monstrum Latiale corona Movit & horrificum cornua dena minax. Et nec inultus ait temnes mea sacra Britanne, Supplicium spreta relligione dabis. Et si stelligeras unquam penetraveris arces, Non nisi per flammas triste patebit iter. O quam funesto cecinisti proxima vero, Verbaque ponderibus vix caritura suis! 10Nam prope Tartareo sublime rotatus ab igni Ibat ad aethereas umbra perusta plagas. 

 Another on the Same. 

Quem modo Roma suis devoverat impia diris, Et Styge damnarat Taenarioque sinu, Hunc vice mutata jam tollere gestit ad astra, Et cupit ad superos evehere usque Deos. 

 On the Inventor of Gunpowder. 

Praise in old time the sage Prometheus won, Who stole ethereal radiance from the sun;But greater he, whose bold invention strove To emulate the fiery bolts of Jove. 

 To Leonora, 1 Singing in Rome. 2

Angelus unicuique suus (sic credite gentes) Obtigit aethereis ales ab ordinibus. Quid mirum? Leonora tibi si gloria major, Nam tua praesentem vox sonat ipsa Deum. Aut Deus, aut vacui certe mens tertia coeli Pertua secreto guttura serpit agens;Serpit agens, facilisque docet mortalia corda Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono. Quod si cuncta quidem Deus est, per cunctaque fusus, In te una loquitur, caetera mutus habet. 10

1 Leonora Baroni, celebrated Neapolitan singer. Milton heard her perform at thepalace of Cardinal Barberini in I638. 

2 I have translated only two of the three poetical complimentsaddressed to Leonora, as they appear to me far superior to whatI have omitted. --W. C. 

 Another to the Same. 

Another Leonora1 once inspir'd Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy fir'd, But how much happier, liv'd he now, were he, Pierced with whatever pangs for love of Thee!Since could he hear that heavenly voice of thine, With Adriana's lute2 of sound divine, Fiercer than Pentheus'3 tho' his eye might roll, Or idiot apathy benumb his soul, You still, with medicinal sounds, might cheer His senses wandering in a blind career; 10And sweetly breathing thro' his wounded breast, Charm, with soul-soothing song, his thoughts to rest. 

1 Leonora d'Este, supposed lover of Torquato Tasso. 

2 Adriana Baroni, who accompanied her daughter on the lute. 

3 A mad Theban king. 

 Another to the Same. 

Naples, too credulous, ah! boast no more The sweet-voiced Siren buried on thy shore, That, when Parthenope1 deceas'd, she gave Her sacred dust to a Chalcidic2 grave, For still she lives, but has exchanged the hoarse Pausilipo for Tiber's placid course, Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains, Of magic song both Gods and Men detains. 

1 One of the Sirens. 

2 From Chalcis, whence the Greek colonies of South Italy came. 

The Fable of the Peasant and his Landlord. 1

A Peasant to his lord yearly court, Presenting pippins of so rich a sortThat he, displeased to have a part alone, Removed the tree, that all might be his own. The tree, too old to travel, though before So fruitful, withered, and would yield no more. The squire, perceiving all his labour void, Cursed his own pains, so foolishly employed, And "Oh, " he cried, "that I had lived content With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant! 10My avarice has expensive proved to me, Has cost me both my pippins and my tree. "

1 Added to the Elegies in the I673 edition. 

2. POEMS IN VARIOUS METRES

On the Death of the Vice-Chancellor, A Physician. 1

Learn ye nations of the earthThe condition of your birth, Now be taught your feeble state, Know, that all must yield to Fate!

If the mournful Rover, Death, Say but once-resign your breath-Vainly of escape you dream, You must pass the Stygian stream. 

Could the stoutest overcomeDeath's assault, and baffle Doom, 10Hercules had both withstoodUndiseas'd by Nessus' blood. 2

Ne'er had Hector press'd the plainBy a trick of Pallas slain, Nor the Chief to Jove allied3By Achilles' phantom died. 

Could enchantments life prolong, Circe, saved by magic song, Still had liv'd, and equal skillHad preserv'd Medea still. 4 20

Dwelt in herbs and drugs a pow'rTo avert Man's destin'd hour, Learn'd Machaon5 should have knownDoubtless to avert his own. 

Chiron had survived the smartOf the Hydra-tainted dart, 6And Jove's bolt had been with easeFoil'd by Asclepiades. 7

Thou too, Sage! of whom forlornHelicon and Cirrha mourn, 30Still had'st filled thy princely place, Regent of the gowned race, Had'st advanc'd to higher fameStill, thy much-ennobled name, Nor in Charon's skiff exploredThe Tartarean gulph abhorr'd. 

But resentful Proserpine, Jealous of thy skill divine, Snapping short thy vital threadThee too number'd with the Dead. 40

Wise and good! untroubled beThe green turf that covers thee, Thence in gay profusion growAll the sweetest flow'rs that blow!

Pluto's Consort bid thee rest!Oeacus pronounce thee blest!To her home thy shade consign, Make Elysium ever thine!

1 Dr. John Goslyn, Regius Professor of Medicine at Cambridge. Hedied on the 21st October, I626. 

2 A centaur whom Hercules shot with a poisoned arrow. Hercules waslater poisoned by the centaur's blood-stained robe, which he wasinduced to put on. 

3 Sarpedon. See Homer (Il. Xvi, 477-491). 

4 Circe and Medea were enchantresses. 

5 Son of Esculapius. He was a healer to the Greeks during thesiege of Troy. See Homer (Il. Xi, 514). 

6 The centaur Chiron was killed by Hercules's poisoned arrows. 

7 Esculapius. He was killed by Jove's lightning for having savedtoo many from death. 

 On the Fifth of November. Anno Aetates 17. 

Am pius extrema veniens Jacobus ab arctoTeucrigenas populos, lateque patentia regnaAlbionum tenuit, jamque inviolabile foedusSceptra Caledoniis conjunxerat Anglica Scotis:Pacificusque novo felix divesque sedebatIn solio, occultique doli securus & hostis:Cum ferus ignifluo regnans Acheronte tyrannus, Eumenidum pater, aethereo vagus exul Olympo, Forte per immensum terrarum erraverat orbem, Dinumerans sceleris socios, vernasque fideles, 10Participes regni post funera moesta futuros;Hic tempestates medio ciet aere diras, Illic unanimes odium struit inter amicos, Armat & invictas in mutua viscera gentes;Regnaque olivifera vertit florentia pace, Et quoscunque videt purae virtutis amantes, Hos cupit adjicere imperio, fraudumque magisterTentat inaccessum sceleri corrumpere pectus, Insidiasque locat tacitas, cassesque latentesTendit, ut incautos rapiat, seu Caspia Tigris 20Insequitur trepidam deserta per avia praedamNocte sub illuni, & somno nictantibus astris. Talibus infestat populos Summanus & urbesCinctus caeruleae fumanti turbine flammae. Jamque fluentisonis albentia rupibus arvaApparent, & terra Deo dilecta marino, Cui nomen dederat quondam Neptunia prolesAmphitryoniaden qui non dubitavit atrocemAequore tranato furiali poscere bello, Ante expugnatae crudelia saecula Troiae. 30 At simul hanc opibusque & festa pace beatamAspicit, & pingues donis Cerealibus agros, Quodque magis doluit, venerantem numina veriSancta Dei populum, tandem suspiria rupitTartareos ignes & luridum olentia sulphur. Qualia Trinacria trux ab Jove clausus in AetnaEfflat tabifico monstrosus ab ore Tiphoeus. Ignescunt oculi, stridetque adamantinus ordoDentis, ut armorum fragor, ictaque cuspide cuspis. Atque pererrato solum hoc lacrymabile mundo 40Inveni, dixit, gens haec mihi sola rebellis, Contemtrixque jugi, nostraque potentior arte. Illa tamen, mea si quicquam tentamina possunt, Non feret hoc impune diu, non ibit inulta, Hactenus; & piceis liquido natat aere pennis;Qua volat, adversi praecursant agmine venti, Densantur nubes, & crebra tonitrua fulgent. Jamque pruinosas velox superaverat alpes, Et tenet Ausoniae fines, a parte sinistraNimbifer Appenninus erat, priscique Sabini, 50Dextra veneficiis infamis Hetruria, nec nonTe furtiva Tibris Thetidi videt oscula dantem;Hinc Mavortigenae consistit in arce Quirini. Reddiderant dubiam jam sera crepuscula lucem, Cum circumgreditur totam Tricoronifer urbem, Panificosque Deos portat, scapulisque virorumEvehitur, praeeunt summisso poplite reges, Et mendicantum series longissima fratrum;Cereaque in manibus gestant funalia caeci, Cimmeriis nati in tenebris, vitamque trahentes. 60Templa dein multis subeunt lucentia taedis(Vesper erat sacer iste Petro) fremitoesque canentumSaepe tholos implet vacuos, & inane locorum. Qualiter exululat Bromius, Bromiique caterva, Orgia cantantes in Echionio Aracyntho, Dum tremit attonitus vitreis Asopus in undis, Et procul ipse cava responsat rupe Cithaeron. His igitur tandem solenni more peractis, Nox senis amplexus Erebi taciturna reliquit, Praecipitesque impellit equos stimulante flagello, 70Captum oculis Typhlonta, Melanchaetemque ferocem, Atque Acherontaeo prognatam patre SiopenTorpidam, & hirsutis horrentem Phrica capillis. Interea regum domitor, Phlegetontius haeresIngreditur thalamos (neque enim secretus adulterProducit steriles molli sine pellice noctes)At vix compositos somnus claudebat ocellos, Cum niger umbrarum dominus, rectorque silentum, Praedatorque hominum falsa sub imagine tectusAstitit, assumptis micuerunt tempora canis, 80Barba sinus promissa tegit, cineracea longoSyrmate verrit humum vestis, pendetque cucullusVertice de raso, & ne quicquam desit ad artes, Cannabeo lumbos constrinxit fune salaces, Tarda fenestratis figens vestigia calceis. Talis uti fama est, vasta Franciscus eremoTetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum, Sylvestrique tulit genti pia verba salutisImpius, atque lupos domuit, Lybicosque leones. Subdolus at tali Serpens velatus amictu 90Solvit in has fallax ora execrantia voces;Dormis nate? Etiamne tuos sopor opprimit artus?Immemor O fidei, pecorumque oblite tuorum, Dum cathedram venerande tuam, diadmaque triplexRidet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe, Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni;Surge, age, surge piger, Latius quem Caesar adorat, Cui reserata patet convexi janua caeli, Turgentes animos, & fastus frange procaces, Sacrilegique sciant, tua quid maledictio possit, 100Et quid Apostolicae possit custodia clavis;Et memor Hesperiae disjectam ulciscere classem, Mersaque Iberorum lato vexilla profundo, Sanctorumque cruci tot corpora fixa probrosae, Thermodoontea nuper regnante puella. At tu si tenero mavis torpescere lectoCrescentesque negas hosti contundere vires, Tyrrhenum implebit numeroso milite Pontum, Signaque Aventino ponet fulgentia colle:Relliquias veterum franget, flammisque cremabit, 110Sacraque calcabit pedibus tua colla profanis, Cujus gaudebant soleis dare basia reges. Nec tamen hunc bellis & aperto Marte lacesses, Irritus ille labor, tu callidus utere fraude, Quaelibet haereticis disponere retia fas est;Jamque ad consilium extremis rex magnus ab orisPatricios vocat, & procerum de stirpe creatos, Grandaevosque patres trabea, canisque verendos;Hos tu membratim poteris conspergere in auras, Atque dare in cineres, nitrati pulveris igne 120Aedibus injecto, qua convenere, sub imis. Protinus ipse igitur quoscumque habet Anglia fidosPropositi, factique mone, quisquamne tuorumAudebit summi non jussa facessere Papae. Perculsosque metu subito, cas£mque stupentesInvadat vel Gallus atrox, vel saevus IberusSaecula sic illic tandem Mariana redibunt, Tuque in belligeros iterum dominaberis Anglos. Et nequid timeas, divos divasque secundasAccipe, quotque tuis celebrantur numina fastis. 130Dixit & adscitos ponens malefidus amictusFugit ad infandam, regnum illaetabile, Lethen. Jam rosea Eoas pandens Tithonia portasVestit inauratas redeunti lumine terras;Maestaque adhuc nigri deplorans funera natiIrrigat ambrosiis montana cacumina guttis;Cum somnos pepulit stellatae janitor aulaeNocturnos visus, & somnia grata revolvens. Est locus aeterna septus caligine noctisVasta ruinosi quondam fundamina tecti, 140Nunc torvi spelunca Phoni, Prodotaeque bilinguisEffera quos uno peperit Discordia partu. Hic inter caementa jacent praeruptaque saxa, Ossa inhumata virum, & trajecta cadavera ferro;Hic Dolus intortis semper sedet ater ocellis, Jurgiaque, & stimulis armata Calumnia fauces, Et Furor, atque viae moriendi mille videnturEt Timor, exanguisque locum circumvolat Horror, Perpetuoque leves per muta silentia ManesExululant, tellus & sanguine conscia stagnat. 150Ipsi etiam pavidi latitant penetralibus antriEt Phonos, & Prodotes, nulloque sequente per antrumAntrum horrens, scopulosum, atrum feralibus umbrisDiffugiunt sontes, & retro lumina vortunt, Hos pugiles Romae per saecula longa fidelesEvocat antistes Babylonius, atque ita fatur. Finibus occiduis circumfusum incolit aequorGens exosa mihi, prudens natura negavitIndignam penitus nostro conjungere mundo;Illuc, sic jubeo, celeri contendite gressu, 160Tartareoque leves difflentur pulvere in aurasEt rex & pariter satrapae, scelerata propagoEt quotquot fidei caluere cupidine veraeConsilii socios adhibete, operisque ministros. Finierat, rigidi cupide paruere gemelli. Interea longo flectens curvamine caelosDespicit aetherea dominus qui fulgurat arce, Vanaque perversae ridet conamina turbae, Atque sui causam populi volet ipse tueri. Esse ferunt spatium, qua distat ab Aside terra 170Fertilis Europe, & spectat Mareotidas undas;Hic turris posita est Titanidos ardua FamaeAerea, lata, sonans, rutilis vicinior astrisQuam superimpositum vel Athos vel Pelion OssaeMille fores aditusque patent, totidemque fenestrae, Amplaque per tenues translucent atria muros;Excitat hic varios plebs agglomerata susurros;Qualiter instrepitant circum mulctralia bombisAgmina muscarum, aut texto per ovilia junco, Dum Canis aestivum coeli petit ardua culmen 180Ipsa quidem summa sedet ultrix matris in arce, Auribus innumeris cinctum caput eminet olli, Queis sonitum exiguum trahit, atque levissima captatMurmura, ab extremis patuli confinibus orbis. Nec tot Aristoride servator inique juvencaeIsidos, immiti volvebas lumina vultu, Lumina non unquam tacito nutantia somno, Lumina subjectas late spectantia terras. Istis illa solet loca luce carentia saepePerlustrare, etiam radianti impervia soli. 190Millenisque loquax auditaque visaque linguisCuilibet effundit temeraria, veraque mendaxNunc minuit, modo confictis sermonibus auget. Sed tamen a nostro meruisti carmine laudesFama, bonum quo non aliud veracius ullum, Nobis digna cani, nec te memorasse pigebitCarmine tam longo, servati scilicet AngliOfficiis vaga diva tuis, tibi reddimus aequa. Te Deus aeternos motu qui temperat ignes, Fulmine praemisso alloquitur, terraque tremente: 200Fama siles? an te latet impia PapistarumConjurata cohors in meque meosque Britannos, Et nova sceptrigero caedes meditata Jacobo:Nec plura, illa statim sensit mandata Tonantis, Et satis ante fugax stridentes induit alas, Induit & variis exilia corpora plumis;Dextra tubam gestat Temesaeo ex aere sonoram. Nec mora jam pennis cedentes remigat auras, Atque parum est cursu celeres praevertere nubes, Jam ventos, jam solis equos post terga reliquit: 210Et primo Angliacas solito de more per urbesAmbiguas voces, incertaque murmura spargit, Mox arguta dolos, & detestabile vulgatProditionis opus, nec non facta horrida dictu, Authoresque addit sceleris, nec garrula caecisInsidiis loca structa silet; stupuere relatis, Et pariter juvenes, pariter tremuere puellae, Effaetique senes pariter, tanteaeque ruinaeSensus ad aetatem subito penetraverat omnemAttamen interea populi miserescit ab alto 220Aethereus pater, & crudelibus obstitit ausisPapicolum; capti poenas raptantur ad acres;At pia thura Deo, & grati solvuntur honores;Compita laeta focis genialibus omnia fumant;Turba choros juvenilis agit: Quintoque NovembrisNull Dies toto occurrit celebratior anno. 

 On the Death of the Bishop of Ely. 1 Anno Aetates 17. 

My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wetWith briny dews profusely shedFor venerable Winton dead, 2When Fame, whose tales of saddest soundAlas! are ever truest found, The news through all our cities spreadOf yet another mitred headBy ruthless Fate to Death consign'd, Ely, the honour of his kind. 10At once, a storm of passion heav'dMy boiling bosom, much I grievedBut more I raged, at ev'ry breathDevoting Death himself to death. With less revenge did Naso3 teemWhen hated Ibis was his theme;With less, Archilochus, 4 deniedThe lovely Greek, his promis'd bride. But lo! while thus I execrate, Incens'd, the Minister of Fate, 20Wondrous accents, soft, yet clear, Wafted on the gale I hear. Ah, much deluded! lay asideThy threats and anger misapplied. Art not afraid with sounds like theseT'offend whom thou canst not appease?Death is not (wherefore dream'st thou thus?)The son of Night and Erebus, Nor was of fel1 Erynnis born5In gulphs, where Chaos rules forlorn, 30But sent from God, his presence leaves, To gather home his ripen'd sheaves, To call encumber'd souls awayFrom fleshly bonds to boundless day, (As when the winged Hours excite, And summon forth the Morning-light)And each to convoy to her placeBefore th'Eternal Father's face. But not the wicked-Them, severeYet just, from all their pleasures here 40He hurries to the realms below, Terrific realms of penal woe!Myself no sooner heard his callThan, scaping through my prison-wall, I bade adieu to bolts and bars, And soar'd with angels to the stars, Like Him of old, to whom 'twas giv'nTo mount, on fiery wheels, to heav'n. Bootes' wagon, 6 slow with coldAppall'd me not, nor to behold 50The sword that vast Orion draws, Or ev'n the Scorpion's horrid claws. 7Beyond the Sun's bright orb I fly, And far beneath my feet descryNight's dread goddess, seen with awe, Whom her winged dragons draw. Thus, ever wond'ring at my speedAugmented still as I proceed, I pass the Planetary sphere, The Milky Way--and now appear 60Heav'ns crystal battlements, her doorOf massy pearl, and em'rald floor. But here I cease. For never canThe tongue of once a mortal manIn suitable description traceThe pleasures of that happy place, Suffice it that those joys divineAre all, and all for ever, mine. 

1 Nicholas Felton. 

2 Dr. Felton died a few days after Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester. See Milton's Third Elegy. 

3 Ovid. 

4 A Greek poet. He was refused by Lycambes as a suitor to his daughters, and inrevenge lampooned the entire family. Lycambes's daughters hanged themselves. 

5 Erebus and Erynnis are Furies. 

6 See Milton's Fifth Elegy, line 6, and the note thereto. 

7 The constellation Scorpio. 

 That Nature is Not Subject to Decay. 

Ah, how the Human Mind wearies herselfWith her own wand'rings, and, involved in gloomImpenetrable, speculates amiss!Measuring, in her folly, things divineBy human, laws inscrib'd on adamantBy laws of Man's device, and counsels fix'dFor ever, by the hours, that pass, and die. How?--shall the face of Nature then be plow'dInto deep wrinkles, and shall years at lastOn the great Parent fix a sterile curse? 10Shall even she confess old age, and haltAnd, palsy-smitten, shake her starry brows?Shall foul Antiquity with rust and droughtAnd famine vex the radiant worlds above?Shall Time's unsated maw crave and engulfThe very heav'ns that regulate his flight?And was the Sire of all able to fenceHis works, and to uphold the circling worlds, But through improvident and heedless hasteLet slip th'occasion?--So then--All is lost-- 20And in some future evil hour, yon archShall crumble and come thund'ring down, the polesJar in collision, the Olympian KingFall with his throne, and Pallas, holding forthThe terrors of her Gorgon shield in vain, 1Shall rush to the abyss, like Vulcan hurl'dDown into Lemnos through the gate of heav'n. Thou also, with precipitated wheelsPhoebus! thy own son's fall shalt imitate, With hideous ruin shalt impress the Deep 30Suddenly, and the flood shall reek and hissAt the extinction of the Lamp of Day. Then too, shall Haemus cloven to his baseBe shattered, and the huge Ceraunian hills, 2Once weapons of Tartarean Dis, immersedIn Erebus, shall fill Himself with fear. No. The Almighty Father surer lay'dHis deep foundations, and providing wellFor the event of all, the scales of FateSuspended, in just equipoise, and bade 40His universal works from age to ageOne tenour hold, perpetual, undisturb'd. Hence the Prime Mover wheels itself aboutContinual, day by day, and with it bearsIn social measure swift the heav'ns around. Not tardier now is Saturn than of old, Nor radiant less the burning casque of Mars. Phoebus, his vigour unimpair'd, still showsTh'effulgence of his youth, nor needs the GodA downward course that he may warm the vales; 50But, ever rich in influence, runs his road, Sign after sign, through all the heav'nly zone. Beautiful as at first ascends the star3From odorif'rous Ind, whose office isTo gather home betimes th'ethereal flock, To pour them o'er the skies again at Eve, And to discriminate the Night and Day. Still Cynthia's changeful horn waxes and wanesAlternate, and with arms extended stillShe welcomes to her breast her brother's beams. 60Nor have the elements deserted yetTheir functions, thunder with as loud a strokeAs erst, smites through the rocks and scatters them, The East still howls, still the relentless NorthInvades the shudd'ring Scythian, still he breathesThe Winter, and still rolls the storms along. The King of Ocean with his wonted forceBeats on Pelorus, 4 o'er the Deep is heardThe hoarse alarm of Triton's sounding shell, Nor swim the monsters of th'Aegean sea 70In shallows, or beneath diminish'd waves. Thou too, thy antient vegetative pow'rEnjoy'st, O Earth! Narcissus still is sweet, And, Phoebus! still thy Favourite, and stillThy Fav'rite, Cytherea!5 both retainTheir beauty, nor the mountains, ore-enrich'dFor punishment of Man, with purer goldTeem'd ever, or with brighter gems the Deep. Thus, in unbroken series all proceedsAnd shall, till, wide involving either pole, 80And the immensity of yonder heav'n, The final flames of destiny absorbThe world, consum'd in one enormous pyre!

1 Pallas Athena (Minerva) had the head of the Gorgon Medusa in her shield; itturned all who looked upon it into stone. 

2 Phaeton, who fled from the chariot of the Sun while driving it. 

3 Venus. 

4 The North-east promontory of Sicily. 

5 The Hyacinth, favorite of Apollo. The Anemone, favorite of Venus. 

On the Platonic 'Ideal' as it was Understood by Aristotle. 

Ye sister Pow'rs who o'er the sacred grovesPreside, and, Thou, fair mother of them allMnemosyne, 1 and thou, who in thy grotImmense reclined at leisure, hast in chargeThe Archives and the ord'nances of Jove, And dost record the festivals of heav'n, Eternity!--Inform us who is He, That great Original by Nature chos'nTo be the Archetype of Human-kind, Unchangeable, Immortal, with the poles 10Themselves coaeval, One, yet ev'rywhere, An image of the god, who gave him Being?Twin-brother of the Goddess born from Jove, 2He dwells not in his Father's mind, but, thoughOf common nature with ourselves, existsApart, and occupies a local home. Whether, companion of the stars, he spendEternal ages, roaming at his willFrom sphere to sphere the tenfold heav'ns, or dwellOn the moon's side that nearest neighbours Earth, Or torpid on the banks of Lethe3 sit 20Among the multitude of souls ordair'dTo flesh and blood, or whether (as may chance)That vast and giant model of our kindIn some far-distant region of this globeSequester'd stalk, with lifted head on highO'ertow'ring Atlas, on whose shoulders restThe stars, terrific even to the Gods. Never the Theban Seer, 4 whose blindness provedHis best illumination, Him beheld 30In secret vision; never him the sonOf Pleione, 5 amid the noiseless nightDescending, to the prophet-choir reveal'd;Him never knew th'Assyrian priest, 6 who yetThe ancestry of Ninus7 chronicles, And Belus, and Osiris far-renown'd;Nor even Thrice-great Hermes, 7 although skill'dSo deep in myst'ry, to the worshippersOf Isis show'd a prodigy like Him. And thou, 8 who hast immortalized the shades 40Of Academus, if the school receivedThis monster of the Fancy first from Thee, Either recall at once the banish'd bardsTo thy Republic, or, thyself evinc'dA wilder Fabulist, go also forth. 

1 Goddess of Memory and mother of the Muses. 

2 Pallas Athena. 

3 Waters of oblivion and forgetfulness. 

4 Tiresins. See Milton's Sixth Elegy, line 68. 

5 Hermes (Mercury). 

6 Perhaps the legendary Phoenician sage, Sanchuniathon. 

7 A legendary Assyrian king. Belus is the Assyrian god Bel. 

7 Hermes Trismegistus, author of Neo-Platonic works must esteemed. 

8 Plato. 

 To My Father. 

Oh that Pieria's spring1 would thro' my breastPour its inspiring influence, and rushNo rill, but rather an o'erflowing flood!That, for my venerable Father's sakeAll meaner themes renounced, my Muse, on wingsOf Duty borne, might reach a loftier strain. For thee, my Father! howsoe'er it please, She frames this slender work, nor know I aught, That may thy gifts more suitably requite;Though to requite them suitably would ask 10Returns much nobler, and surpassing farThe meagre stores of verbal gratitude. But, such as I possess, I send thee all. This page presents thee in their full amountWith thy son's treasures, and the sum is nought;Naught, save the riches that from airy dreamsIn secret grottos and in laurel bow'rs, I have, by golden Clio's2 gift, acquir'd. Verse is a work divine; despise not thouVerse therefore, which evinces (nothing more) 20Man's heav'nly source, and which, retaining stillSome scintillations of Promethean fire, Bespeaks him animated from above. The Gods love verse; the infernal Pow'rs themselvesConfess the influence of verse, which stirsThe lowest Deep, and binds in triple chainsOf adamant both Pluto and the shades. In verse the Delphic priestess, and the paleTremulous Sybil make the Future known, And He who sacrifices, on the shrine 30Hangs verse, both when he smites the threat'ning bull, And when he spreads his reeking entrails wideTo scrutinize the Fates envelop'd there. We too, ourselves, what time we seek againOur native skies, and one eternal NowShall be the only measure of our Being, Crown'd all with gold, and chanting to the lyreHarmonious verse, shall range the courts above, And make the starry firmament resound. And, even now, the fiery Spirit pure 40That wheels yon circling orbs, directs, himself, Their mazy dance with melody of verseUnutt'rable, immortal, hearing whichHuge Ophiuchus3 holds his hiss suppress'd, Orion, soften'd, drops his ardent blade, And Atlas stands unconscious of his load. Verse graced of old the feasts of kings, ere yetLuxurious dainties destin'd to the gulphImmense of gluttony were known, and ereLyaeus4 deluged yet the temp'rate board. 50Then sat the bard a customary guestTo share the banquet, and, his length of locksWith beechen honours bound, proposed in verseThe characters of Heroes and their deedsTo imitation, sang of Chaos old, Of Nature's birth, of Gods that crept in searchOf acorns fall'n, and of the thunderboltNot yet produc'd from Aetna's fiery cave. And what avails, at last, tune without voice, Devoid of matter? Such may suit perhaps 60The rural dance, but such was ne'er the songOf Orpheus, whom the streams stood still to hearAnd the oaks follow'd. Not by chords aloneWell-touch'd, but by resistless accents moreTo sympathetic tears the Ghosts themselvesHe mov'd: these praises to his verse he owes. Nor Thou persist, I pray thee, still to slightThe sacred Nine, and to imagine vainAnd useless, Pow'rs by whom inspir'd, thyselfArt skillfill to associate verse with airs 70Harmonious, and to give the human voiceA thousand modulations, heir by rightIndisputable of Arion's fame. 5Now say, what wonder is it, if a sonOf thine delight in verse, if so conjoin'dIn close affinity, we sympathizeIn social arts and kindred studies sweet?Such distribution of himself to usWas Phoebus' choice; thou hast thy gift, and IMine also, and between us we receive, 80Father and son, the whole inspiring God. No. Howsoe'er the semblance thou assumeOf hate, thou hatest not the gentle Muse, My Father! for thou never bad'st me treadThe beaten path and broad that leads right onTo opulence, nor did'st condemn thy sonTo the insipid clamours of the bar, To laws voluminous and ill observ'd, But, wishing to enrich me more, to fillMy mind with treasure, led'st me far away 90From city-din to deep retreats, to banksAnd streams Aonian, 6 and, with free consentDidst place me happy at Apollo's side. I speak not now, on more important themesIntent, of common benefits, and suchAs Nature bids, but of thy larger giftsMy Father! who, when I had open'd onceThe stores of Roman rhetoric, and learn'dThe full-ton'd language, of the eloquent Greeks, Whose lofty music grac'd the lips of Jove, 100Thyself did'st counsel me to add the flow'rsThat Gallia7 boasts, those too with which the smoothItalian his degentrate speech adorns, That witnesses his mixture with the Goth, And Palestine's prophetic songs divine. 8To sum the whole, whate'er the Heav'n contains, The Earth beneath it, and the Air between, The Rivers and the restless deep, may allProve intellectual gain to me, my wishConcurring with thy will; Science herself, 110All cloud removed, inclines her beauteous headAnd offers me the lip, if, dull of heart, I shrink not and decline her gracious boon. Go now, and gather dross, ye sordid mindsThat covet it; what could my Father more, What more could Jove himself, unless he gaveHis own abode, the heav'n in which he reigns?More eligible gifts than these were notApollo's to his son, had they been safeAs they were insecure, who made the boy 120The world's vice-luminary, bade him ruleThe radiant chariot of the day, and bindTo his young brows his own all dazzling-wreath. I therefore, although last and least, my placeAmong the Learned in the laurel-groveWill hold, and where the conqu'ror's ivy twines, Henceforth exempt from th'unletter'd throngProfane, nor even to be seen by such. Away then, sleepless Care, Complaint away, And Envy, with thy "jealous leer malign" 130Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forthHer venom'd tongue at me. Detested foes!Ye all are impotent against my peace, For I am privileged, and bear my breastSafe, and too high, for your viperean wound. But thou my Father! since to render thanksEquivalent, and to requite by deedsThy liberality, exceeds my power, Sufffice it, that I thus record thy gifts, And bear them treasur'd in a grateful mind! 140Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth, My voluntary numbers, if ye dareTo hope longevity, and to surviveYour master's funeral pile, not soon absorb'dIn the oblivious Lethaean gulphShall to Futurity perhaps conveyThis theme, and by these praises of my sireImprove the Fathers of a distant age. 

1 A fount sacred to the Muses. 2 The Muse of History. 

3 The Serpent, a constellation. 

4 Bacchus, or Wine. 

5 John Milton Sr. Was a fine musician. Arion was a lyric poet ofMethymna, in Lesbos, who was saved from drowning by dolphins whichhe charmed with his song. 

6 Aonia is a plain in Boeotia. 7 France. 

8 The Old Testament Scriptures. 

 Psalm CXIV 1

When Israel by Jehovah call'd From Egypt's hostile plain, Pour'd forth in numbers as the Sand And sought the adjacent main:Then God descended from on high To lead the favour'd RaceTo rule o'er Jacob, & his Name In Judah's Tribe to place. The Sea at their approach alarm'd In wild amazement fled 10And Jordan's flood was driven back Within it's fountainhead. The Mountains from their basis shook Confess'd the Parent God!With sudden throws like Rams they skipp'd And broken, fell abroad. The little Hills by the same power Were from their Center tornLike Lambs resistless they gave way In Tumult wild, upborn. 20Ye Waves what strange amazement, say, Seiz'd on you that you fled?Thou Jordan too! On Israel's march, Why driven to thy Head?Ye Mountains whence this sudden fright That shook you from your base?And whence, ye little Hills, your flight From Israel's chosen Race?Tremble thou Earth! Jehovah leads, And guards the might Host! 30That God, who by his awful Word, Commands the Stream to flow2From flinty Rocks; & pouring thence, To form the Lake below. 

1 Translated from the Latin, and not Milton's Greek poem. Milton'sown English version, presented below, was done, he tells us, "atfifteen years old. "

2 See Exodus, chapter I7. 

 Psalm CXIV

When the blest seed of Terah's faithful Son, 1After long toil their liberty had won, And past from Pharian2 fields to Canaan Land, Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand, Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, His praise and glory was in Israel known. That saw the troubl'd Sea, and shivering fled, And sought to hide his froth-becurled headLow in the earth, Jordan's clear streams recoil, As a faint host that hath receiv'd the foil. 10The high, huge-bellied Mountains skip like RamsAmongst their Ewes, the little Hills like Lambs. Why fled the Ocean? And why skip'd the Mountains?Why turned Jordan toward his Crystal Fountains?Shake earth, and at the presence be aghastOf him that ever was, and ay shall last, That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush, And make soft rills from the fiery flint-stones gush. 

1 Abraham. 2 Egyptian. 

 The Philosopher and the King. 

A Philosopher, included in the same sentence of condemnation withseveral guilty persons among whom he had been apprehended, sentthe following lines, composed suddenly in the moment when he wasgoing to death, to a certain King whom had ignorantly condemnedhim. 

Know this, O King! that if thou shalt destroyMe, no man's enemy and who have liv'dObedient to the Laws, thou may'st with easeStrike off a wise man's head, but, taught the truthHereafter, shalt with vain regret deploreThy city's loss of One, her chief support. 

 On the Engraver of his Portrait. 1

Survey my Features--you will own it clearThat little skill has been exerted here. My Friends, who know me not here smile to seeHow ill the model and the work agree. 

1 Greek lines placed by Milton beneath the engraved portrait ofhimself by William Marshall in the I645 edition of his poems. Thehandsome Milton disliked Marshall's picture and took revenge withthis epigram, which Marshall, ignorant of Greek, engraved beneaththe portrait. 

 Another Translation of the Same. 2

Look on myself--you will own at onceThis Copy of me, taken by a Dunce. My Friends, who gaze and guess not whom ye see, Laugh! Would ye think it? He intended me!

To Giovanni Salzilli, a Roman Poet, in his Illness. Scazons. 1

My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice alongThy slow, slow step, in melancholy song!And lik'st that pace expressive of thy caresNot less than Diopeia's2 sprightlier airsWhen in the dance she beats with measur'd treadHeav'n's floor in front of Juno's golden bed, Salute Salsillus, who to verse divinePrefers, with partial love, such lays as mine. Thus writes that Milton then, who wafted o'erFrom his own nest on Albion's stormy shore 10Where Eurus, fiercest of th'Aeolian band, Sweeps with ungovern'd rage the blasted land, Of late to more serene Ausonia cameTo view her cities of illustrious name, To prove, himself a witness of the truth, How wise her elders, and how learn'd her Youth. Much good, Salsillus! and a body freeFrom all disease, that Milton asks for thee, Who now endur'st the languor, and the painsThat bile inflicts diffus'd through all thy veins, 20Relentless malady! not mov'd to spareBy thy sweet Roman voice, and Lesbian air! Health, Hebe's sister, sent us from the skies, And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies, Pythius, or Paean, or what name divineSoe'er thou chuse, haste, heal a priest of thine!Ye groves of Faunus, and ye hills that meltWith vinous dews, where meek Evander3 dwelt!If aught salubrious in your confines grow, Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's woe, 30That, render'd to the Muse he loves, againHe may enchant the meadows with his strain. Numa, reclin'd in everlasting easeAmid the shade of dark embow'ring trees, Viewing with eyes of unabated fireHis loved Aegeria, shall that strain admire:So sooth'd, the tumid Tiber shall revereThe tombs of kings, nor desolate the year, Shall curb his waters with a friendly rein, And guide them harmless till they meet the main. 40

1 The original is written in a measure called Scazon, whichsignifies limping, and the measure is so denominated, because, though in other respects Iambic, it terminates witha Spondee, and has consequently a more tardy movement. The reader will immediately see that this property of theLatin verse cannot be imitated in English. --W. C. 

2 Diopeia was one of Juno's nymphs. 

3 The Aventine hill. Evander, great-grandson of Pallas, King ofArcadia, migrated to Italy about sixty years before the TrojanWar. 

 To Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa. 

1Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an ItalianNobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, forGenius, Literature, and military accomplishments. To HimTorquato Tasso addressed his "Dialogue on Friendship, " for hewas much the friend of Tasso, who has also celebrated himamong the other princes of his country, in his poem entitled"Jerusalem Conquered" (Book XX). 

 Among cavaliers magnanimous and courteous --Manso is resplendent. 

During the Author's stay at Naples he received at the handsof the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, sent him this poem a shorttime before his departure from that city. 

These verses also to thy praise the Nine2Oh Manso! happy in that theme design, For, Gallus and Maecenas3 gone, they seeNone such besides, or whom they love as Thee, And, if my verse may give the meed of fame, Thine too shall prove an everlasting name. Already such, it shines in Tasso's page(For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age, And, next, the Muse consign'd, not unawareHow high the charge, Marini4 to thy care, 10Who, singing, to the nymphs, Adonis' praise, Boasts thee the patron of his copious lays. To thee alone the Poet would entrustHis latest vows, to thee alone his dust, And Thou with punctual piety hast paidIn labour'd brass thy tribute to his shade. Nor this contented thee-but lest the graveShould aught absorb of their's, which thou could'st save, All future ages thou has deign'd to teachThe life, lot, genius, character of each, 20Eloquent as the Carian sage, 5 who, trueTo his great theme, the Life of Homer drew. I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who comeChill'd by rude blasts that freeze my Northern home, Thee dear to Clio confident proclaim, And Thine, for Phoebus' sake, a deathless name. Nor Thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eyeA Muse scarce rear'd beneath our sullen sky, Who fears not, indiscrete as she is young, To seek in Latium hearers of her song. 30We too, where Thames with his unsullied wavesThe tresses of the blue-hair'd Ocean laves, Hear oft by night, or, slumb'ring, seem to hearO'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear, And we could boast a Tityrus6 of yore, Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore. Yes, dreary as we own our Northern clime, E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme, We too serve Phoebus; Phoebus has receiv'd, (If legends old may claim to be believ'd) 40No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear, The burnish'd apple, ruddiest of the year, The fragrant crocus, and, to grace his fane, Fair damsels chosen from the Druid train-Druids, our native bards in ancient time, Who Gods and Heroes prais'd in hallow'd rhyme. Hence, often as the maids of Greece surroundApollo's shrine with hymns of festive sound, They name the virgins who arriv'd of yoreWith British off'rings on the Delian shore, 50Loxo, from Giant Corineus sprung, Upis, on whose blest lips the Future hung, And Hecaerge7 with the golden hair, All deck'd with Pic'ish hues, and all with bosoms bare. Thou therefore, happy Sage, whatever climeShall ring with Tasso's praise in after-time, Or with Marini's, shalt be known their friend, And with an equal flight to fame ascend. The world shall hear how Phoebus and the NineWere inmates, once, and willing guests of thine. 60Yet Phoebus, when of old constrain'd to roamThe earth, an exile from his heav'nly home, Enter'd, no willing guest, Admetus'8 door, Though Hercules had enter'd there before. But gentle Chiron's9 cave was near, a sceneOf rural peace, clothed with perpetual green, And thither, oft as respite he requir'dFrom rustic clamours loud, the God retir'd. There, many a time, on Peneus' bank reclin'dAt some oak's root, with ivy thick entwin'd, 70Won by his hospitable friend's desireHe sooth'd his pains of exile with the lyre. Then shook the hills, then trembled Peneus' shore, Nor Oeta10 felt his load of forests more, The upland elms descended to the plain, 11And soften'd lynxes wonder'd at the strain. Well may we think, O dear to all above!Thy birth distinguish'd by the smile of Jove, And that Apollo shed his kindliest pow'r, And Maia's son, 12 on that propitious hour, 80Since only minds so born can comprehendA poet's worth, or yield that worth a friend. Hence, on thy yet unfaded cheek appearsThe ling'ring freshness of thy greener years, Hence, in thy front, and features, we admireNature unwither'd, and a mind entire. Oh might so true a friend to me belong, So skill'd to grace the votaries of song, Should I recall hereafter into rhymeThe kings, and heroes of my native clime, 90Arthur the chief, who even now prepares, In subterraneous being, future wars, With all his martial Knights, to be restor'dEach to his seat around the fed'ral board, And Oh, if spirit fail me not, disperseOur Saxon plund'rers in triumphant verse!Then, after all, when, with the Past content, A life I finish, not in silence spent, Should he, kind mourner, o'er my deathbed bendI shall but need to say--"Be yet my friend!" 100He, faithful to my dust, with kind concernShal1 place it gently in a modest urn;He too, perhaps, shall bid the marble breatheTo honour me, and with the graceful wreath13Or of Parnassus or the Paphian isleShall bind my brows--but I shall rest the while. Then also, if the fruits of Faith endure, And Virtue's promis'd recompense be sure, Borne to those seats, to which the blest aspireBy purity of soul, and virtuous fire, These rites, as Fate permits, I shall surveyWith eyes illumin'd by celestial day, 110And, ev'ry cloud from my pure spirit driv'n, Joy in the bright beatitude of Heav'n!

1 Milton's Account of Manso, translated. 

2 The Muses. 

3 Cornelius Gallus, Roman eleist. See Virgil (Eclogue vi, 64-66, and x). 

Maecenas. Roman patron of letters. See Horace (Odes, i, 1), 4 Author of the Adone, a poem on the story of Venus and Adonis. 

5 Herodotus, to whom The Life of Homer is attributed. 

6 Chaucer, called Tityrus in Spencer's Pastorals. 

7 The maidens who brought offerings to Delos. Loxo, descended from the ancientBritish hero, Corineus; Upis, a prophetess; andHecaerge. 

8 Admetus was King of Thessaly. Apollo was for a year hisshepherd. 

9 See Homer (Il. Xi, 830-831) and Ovid (Met. Ii, 630). 

10 Mt. Oeta, between Thessaly and Aetolia. 

11 See Ovid (Met. X, 87-I06), where the trees crowd the hearOrpheus sing. 

12 Hermes. 

13 The wreaths of victors, made from the laurel, which grew on Mt. Parnassus, sacred to the Muses, and the myrtle, sacred to Venus, a shrine to whom was at Paphos in Cyprus. 

 The Death of Damon. 

 The Argument. 

 Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds and neighbours, had always pursuedthe same studies, and had, from their earliest days, been unitedin the closest friendship. Thyrsis, while traveling for improve-ment, received intelligence of the death of Damon, and, after atime, returning and finding it true, deplores himself and hissolitary condition, in this poem. By Damon is to be understood Charles Diodati, connected withthe Italian city of Lucca by his Father's side, in other respectsan Englishman; a youth of uncommon genius, erudition, and virtue. 

Ye Nymphs of Himera1 (for ye have shedErewhile for Daphnis2 and for Hylas dead, And over Bion's long-lamented bier, The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear)Now, through the villas laved by Thames rehearseThe woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse, What sighs he heav'd, and how with groans profoundHe made the woods and hollow rocks resoundYoung Damon dead; nor even ceased to pourHis lonely sorrows at the midnight hour. 10The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear, And golden harvest twice enrich'd the year, Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital airThe last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there;For he, enamour'd of the Muse, remain'dIn Tuscan Fiorenza long detain'd, But, stored at length with all he wish'd to learn, For his flock's sake now hasted to return, And when the shepherd had resumed his seatAt the elm's root within his old retreat, 20Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know, And, from his burthen'd heart, he vented thus his woe. Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Alas! what Deities shall I supposeIn heav'n or earth concern'd for human woes, Since, Oh my Damon! their severe decreeSo soon condemns me to regret of Thee!Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaidWith fame and honour, like a vulgar shade? 30Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls, And sep'rates sordid from illustrious souls, Drive far the rabble, and to Thee assignA happier lot with spirits worthy thine!Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chanceThe wolf first give me a forbidding glance, Thou shalt not moulder undeplor'd, but longThy praise shall dwell on ev'ry shepherd's tongue; 40To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay, And, after Him, to thee the votive lay, While Pales3 shall the flocks and pastures love, Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove, At least if antient piety and truthWith all the learned labours of thy youthMay serve thee aught, or to have left behindA sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind. Go, seek your home, my lambs, my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. 50Yes, Damon! such thy sure reward shall be, But ah, what doom awaits unhappy me?Who, now, my pains and perils shall divide, As thou wast wont, for ever at my side, Both when the rugged frost annoy'd our feet, And when the herbage all was parch'd with heat, Whether the grim wolf's ravage to preventOr the huge lion's, arm'd with darts we went?Whose converse, now, shall calm my stormy day, With charming song who, now, beguile my way? 60Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. In whom shall I confide? Whose counsel findA balmy med'cine for my troubled mind?Or whose discourse with innocent delightShall fill me now, and cheat the wint'ry night, While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear, And black'ning chesnuts start and crackle there, While storms abroad the dreary meadows whelm, And the wind thunders thro' the neighb'ring elm? 70Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Or who, when summer suns their summit reach, And Pan sleeps hidden by the shelt'ring beech, When shepherds disappear, Nymphs seek the sedge, And the stretch'd rustic snores beneath the hedge, Who then shall render me thy pleasant veinOf Attic wit, thy jests, thy smiles again?Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. 80Where glens and vales are thickest overgrownWith tangled boughs, I wander now aloneTill night descend, while blust'ring wind and show'rBeat on my temples through the shatter'd bow'r. Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Alas, what rampant weeds now shame my fields, And what a mildew'd crop the furrow yields!My rambling vines unwedded to the treesBear shrivel'd grapes, my myrtles fail to please, 90Nor please me more my flocks; they, slighted, turnTheir unavailing looks on me, and mourn. Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Aegon invites me to the hazel grove, Amyntas, on the river's bank to rove, And young Alphesiboeus to a seatWhere branching elms exclude the midday heat--"Here fountains spring-here mossy hillocks rise--""Here Zephyr whispers and the stream replies--" 100Thus each persuades, but deaf to ev'ry callI gain the thickets, and escape them all. Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are dueTo other cares than those of feeding you. Then Mopsus said (the same who reads so wellThe voice of birds, and what the stars foretell, For He by chance had noticed my return)What means thy sullen mood, this deep concern?Ah Thyrsis! thou art either crazed with love, Or some sinister influence from above, 110Dull Saturn's influence oft the shepherd rue, His leaden shaft oblique has pierced thee through. Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are, My thoughts are all now due to other care. The Nymphs amazed my melancholy see, And, Thyrsis! cry--what will become of thee?What would'st thou, Thyrsis? such should not appearThe brow of youth, stern, gloomy, and severe, Brisk youth should laugh and love--ah shun the fateOf those twice wretched mopes who love too late! 120Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are, My thoughts are all now due to other care. Aegle with Hyas came, to sooth my pain, And Baucis' daughter, Dryope the vain, 4Fair Dryope, for voice and finger neatKnown far and near, and for her self-conceit, Came Chloris too, whose cottage on the landsThat skirt the Idumanian current stands;But all in vain they came, and but to seeKind words and comfortable lost on me. 130Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are, My thoughts are all now due to other care. Ah blest indiff'rence of the playful herd, None by his fellow chosen or preferr'd!No bonds of amity the flocks enthrall, But each associates and is pleased with all;So graze the dappled deer in num'rous droves, And all his kind alike the zebra loves'The same law governs where the billows roarAnd Proteus' shoals o'erspread the desert shore; 140The sparrow, meanest of the feather'd race, His fit companion finds in ev'ry place, With whom he picks the grain that suits him best, Flits here and there, and late returns to rest, And whom if chance the falcon make his prey, Or Hedger with his well-aim'd arrow slay, For no such loss the gay survivor grieves'New love he seeks, and new delight receives. We only, an obdurate kind, rejoice, Scorning all others, in a single choice, 150We scarce in thousands meet one kindred mind, And if the long-sought good at last we find, When least we fear it, Death our treasure steals, And gives our heart a wound that nothing heals. Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are, My thoughts are all now due to other care. Ah, what delusion lured me from my flocks, To traverse Alpine snows, and rugged rocks!What need so great had I to visit RomeNow sunk in ruins, and herself a tomb? 160Or, had she flourish'd still as when, of oldFor her sake Tityrus forsook his fold, What need so great had I t'incur a pauseOf thy sweet intercourse for such a cause, For such a cause to place the roaring sea, Rocks, mountains, woods, between my friend and me?Else, I had grasp'd thy feeble hand, composedThy decent limbs, thy drooping eye-lids closed, And, at the last, had said--Farewell--Ascend--Nor even in the skies forget thy friend. 170Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare, My thoughts are all now due to other care. Although well-pleas'd, ye tuneful Tuscan swains!My mind the mem'ry of your worth retains, Yet not your worth can teach me less to mournMy Damon lost--He too was Tuscan born, Born in your Lucca, city of renown, And Wit possess'd and Genius like your own. Oh how elate was I, when, stretch'd besideThe murm'ring course of Arno's breezy tide, 180Beneath the poplar-grove I pass'd my hours, Now cropping myrtles, and now vernal flow'rs, And hearing, as I lay at ease along, Your swains contending for the prize of song!I also dared attempt (and, as it seemsNot much displeas'd attempting) various themes, For even I can presents boast from you, The shepherd's pipe and osier basket too, And Dati and Francini both have madeMy name familiar to the beechen shade, 190And they are learn'd, and each in ev'ry placeRenown'd for song, and both of Lydian Race. Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare, My thoughts are all now due to other care. While bright the dewy grass with moon-beams shone, And I stood hurdling in my kids alone, How often have I said (but thou had'st foundEre then thy dark cold lodgment under-ground)Now Damon sings, or springes sets for hares, Or wicker-work for various use prepares! 200How oft, indulging Fancy, have I plann'dNew scenes of pleasure, that I hop'd at hand, Call'd thee abroad as I was wont, and cried--What hoa, my friend--come, lay thy task aside--Haste, let us forth together, and beguileThe heat beneath yon whisp'ring shades awhile, Or on the margin stray of Colne's5 clear flood, Or where Cassivelan's grey turrets stood!There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teachThy friend the name and healing pow'rs of each, 210From the tall blue-bell to the dwarfish weed, What the dry land and what the marshes breed, For all their kinds alike to thee are known, And the whole art of Galen6 is thy own. Ah, perish Galen's art, and wither'd beThe useless herbs that gave not health to thee!Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dreamI meditating sat some statelier theme, The reeds no sooner touch'd my lip, though newAnd unassay'd before, than wide they flew, 220Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustainThe deep-ton'd music of the solemn strain;And I am vain perhaps, but will tellHow proud a theme I choose--ye groves farewell!Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare, My thoughts are all now due to other care. Of Brutus, Dardan Chief, my song shall be, 7How with his barks he plough'd the British sea, First from Rutupia's tow'ring headland seen, And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen; 230Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold, 8And of Arviragus, and how of oldOur hardy sires th'Armorican controll'd, And the wife of Gorlois, who, surprisedBy Uther in her husband's form disguised, (Such was the force of Merlin's art) becamePregnant with Arthur of heroic fame. 9These themes I now revolve--and Oh--if FateProportion to these themes my lengthen'd date, Adieu my shepherd's-reed--yon pine-tree bough 240Shall be thy future home, there dangle ThouForgotten and disus'd, unless ere longThou change thy Latin for a British song. A British?--even so--the pow'rs of ManAre bounded; little is the most he can, And it shall well suffice me, and shall beFame and proud recompense enough for me, If Usa10 golden-hair'd my verse may learn, If Alain, bending o'er his chrystal urn, Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd stream, 250Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteemTamar's ore-tinctur'd flood, and, after these, The wave-worn shores of utmost OrcadesGo, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare, My thoughts are all now due to other care. All this I kept in leaves of laurel-rindEnfolded safe, and for thy view design'd, This--and a gift from Manso's hand beside, (Manso, not least his native city's pride)Two cups, that radiant as their giver shone, 260Adorn'd by sculpture with a double zone. The spring was graven there; here, slowly windThe Red-Sea shores with groves of spices lined;Her plumes of various hues amid the boughsThe sacred, solitary Phoenix shows, And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her headTo see Aurora11 leave her wat'ry bed. In other part, th'expansive vault above, And there too, even there, the God of love;With quiver arm'd he mounts, his torch displays 270A vivid light, his gem-tip'd arrows blaze, Around, his bright and fiery eyes he rolls, Nor aims at vulgar minds or little soulsNor deigns one look below, but aiming highSends every arrow to the lofty sky, Hence, forms divine, and minds immortal learnThe pow'r of Cupid, and enamour'd burn. Thou also Damon (neither need I fearThat hope delusive) thou art also there;For whither should simplicity like thine 280Retire, where else such spotless virtue shine?Thou dwell'st not (thought profane) in shades below, Nor tears suit thee--cease then my tears to flow, Away with grief on Damon ill-bestow'd, Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode, Has pass'd the show'ry arch, henceforth residesWith saints and heroes, and from flowing tidesQuaffs copious immortality and joyWith hallow'd lips. Oh! blest without alloy, And now enrich'd with all that faith can claim, 290Look down entreated by whatever name, If Damon please thee most (that rural sound)Shall oft with ecchoes fill the groves around)Or if Diodatus, by which aloneIn those ethereal mansions thou art known. Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the tasteOf wedded bliss knew never, pure and chaste, The honours, therefore, by divine decreeThe lot of virgin worth are giv'n to thee;Thy brows encircled with a radiant band, 300And the green palm-branch waving in thy handThou immortal Nuptials shalt rejoiceAnd join with seraphs thy according voice, Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyreGuides the blest orgies of the blazing quire. 

1 A river in Sicily. 

2 Subject of Theocritus's Lament for Daphnis (Idyl i) in whichThyrsis is the mourning shepherd. Hylas was taken away by nymphswho admired his beauty and Bion is the subject of Moschus'sEpitaph of Bion (Idyl iii). 

3 Goddess who was protector of the flocks. Faunus is god of theplains and hills around Rome. 

4 Characters in Ovid's Metamorphoses. 

5 A river near St. Albans. Cassivellaunus was a British chieftanwho opposed Caesar. See Gallic War (v, xi. )

6 Medicine. Diodati took medical training at Cambridge. 

7 Milton's planned epic opened with the Dardanian (i. E. Trojan)fleet, under Brutus, approaching England. 

8 Brennus and Belinus were kings of Brittany who, according toSpencer's Fairie Queen, "rasackt Greece" and conquered Franceand Germany. Arviragus led the Britons against Claudius. 

9 See Malory's Morte d'Arthur. 

10 A river in Oxford. 

11 Goddess of the Dawn. 

 To Mr. John Rouse, Librarian of the University of Oxford, An Ode1 on a Lost Volume of my Poems Which He Desired Me to Replace that He Might Add Them to My Other Works Deposited in the Library. 

 Strophe I

 My two-fold Book! single in show But double in Contents, Neat, but not curiously adorn'd Which in his early youth, A poet gave, no lofty one in truthAlthough an earnest wooer of the Muse-- Say, while in cool Ausonian2 shades Or British wilds he roam'd, Striking by turns his native lyre, By turns the Daunian lute 10 And stepp'd almost in air, --

 Antistrophe

 Say, little book, what furtive hand Thee from thy fellow books convey'd, What time, at the repeated suit Of my most learned Friend, I sent thee forth an honour'd travellerFrom our great city to the source of Thames, Caerulean sire!Where rise the fountains and the raptures ring, Of the Aonian choir, 3 20 Durable as yonder spheres, And through the endless lapse of years Secure to be admired?

 Strophe II

 Now what God or DemigodFor Britain's ancient Genius mov'd (If our afflicted landHave expiated at length the guilty sloth Of her degen'rate sons) Shall terminate our impious feuds, And discipline, with hallow'd voice, recall? 30 Recall the Muses too Driv'n from their antient seatsIn Albion, and well-nigh from Albion's shore, And with keen Phoebean shafts Piercing th'unseemly birds, Whose talons menace usShall drive the harpy race from Helicon afar?

 Antistrophe

 But thou, my book, though thou hast stray'd, Whether by treach'ry lostOr indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault, 40 From all thy kindred books, To some dark cell or cave forlorn, Where thou endur'st, perhaps, The chafing of some hard untutor'd hand, Be comforted--For lo! again the splendid hope appears That thou may'st yet escapeThe gulphs of Lethe, and on oary wingsMount to the everlasting courts of Jove, Strophe III

Since Rouse desires thee, and complains 50 That, though by promise his, Thou yet appear'st not in thy placeAmong the literary noble stores Giv'n to his care, But, absent, leav'st his numbers incomplete. He, therefore, guardian vigilant Of that unperishing wealth, Calls thee to the interior shrine, his charge, Where he intends a richer treasure farThan Ion kept--(Ion, Erectheus' son4 60Illustrious, of the fair Creusa born)--In the resplendent temple of his God, Tripods of gold and Delphic gifts divine. 

 Antistrophe

 Haste, then, to the pleasant groves, The Muses' fav'rite haunt;Resume thy station in Apollo's dome, Dearer to himThan Delos, or the fork'd Parnassian hill. Exulting go, Since now a splendid lot is also thine, 70And thou art sought by my propitious friend; For There thou shalt be read With authors of exalted note, The ancient glorious Lights of Greece and Rome. 

 Epode

Ye, then my works, no longer vain And worthless deem'd by me!Whate'er this steril genius has produc'dExpect, at last, the rage of Envy spent, An unmolested happy home, Gift of kind Hermes and my watchful friend, 80 Where never flippant tongue profane Shall entrance find, And whence the coarse unletter'd multitude Shall babble far remote. Perhaps some future distant ageLess tinged with prejudice and better taught Shall furnish minds of pow'r To judge more equally. Then, malice silenced in the tomb, Cooler heads and sounder hearts, 90 Thanks to Rouse, if aught of praiseI merit, shall with candour weigh the claim. 

1 This Ode consists of three strophes and the same of antistrophes, concluding with an epode. Although these units do not perfectlycorrespond in their number of verses or in divisions which arestrictly parallel, nevertheless I have divided them in thisfashion with a view to convenience or the reader, rather thanconformity with the ancient rules of versification. In otherrespects a poem of this kind should, perhaps, more correctly becalled monostrophic. The metres are in part regularly patternedand in part free. There are two Phaleucian verses which admit aspondee in the third foot, a practice often followed by Catullusin the second foot. [Milton's Note, translated--W. C. ]

1 This Ode is rendered without rhyme, that it might moreadequately represent the original, which, as Milton himselfinforms us, is of no certain measure. It may possibly for thisreason disappoint the reader, though it cost the writer morelabour than the translation of any other piece in the wholecollection. --W. C. 

2 Italian. 

3 The Muses, who dwelt on Mount Helicon in Aonia. 

4 See Euripides' Ion. 

 Paradisum Amissam, Lib. II 1

Quales aerii montis de vertice nubesCum surgunt, et jam Boreae tumida ora quierunt, Caelum hilares abdit spissa caligine vultus, Nimbosumque nives aut imbres cogitat aether:Tum si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore, 5Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat, Gaudent omnia, aves mulcent concentibus agros, Balatuque ovium colles vallesque resultant. 

1 Translation of a simile in Paradise Lost, "As when, from mountaintops, the dusky clouds Ascending, &c. --"(ii. 488)--W. C. 

3. TRANSLATIONS OF THE ITALIAN POEMS

 I

Fair Lady, whose harmonious name the Rheno Through all his grassy vale delights to hear, Base were, indeed, the wretch, who could forbear To love a spirit elegant as thine, That manifests a sweetness all divine, 5 Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare, And graces, which Love's bow and arrows are, Temp'ring thy virtues to a softer shine. When gracefully thou speak'st, or singest gay Such strains as might the senseless forest move, 10 Ah then--turn each his eyes and ears away, Who feels himself unworthy of thy love! Grace can alone preserve him, e'er the dart Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart. 

 II

As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some past'ral maiden fair Waters a lovely foreign plant with care, That scarcely can its tender bud displayBorne from its native genial airs away, 5 So, on my tongue these accents new and rare Are flow'rs exotic, which Love waters there, While thus, o sweetly scornful! I essayThy praise in verse to British ears unknown, And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain; 10 So Love has will'd, and oftimes Love has shownThat what He wills he never wills in vain. Oh that this hard and steril breast might be To Him who plants from heav'n, a soil as free. 

 III Canzone. 

They mock my toil--the nymphs and am'rous swains--And whence this fond attempt to write, they cry, Love-songs in language that thou little know'st?How dar'st thou risque to sing these foreign strains?Say truly. Find'st not oft thy purpose cross'd, 5And that thy fairest flow'rs, Here, fade and die?Then with pretence of admiration high--Thee other shores expect, and other tides, Rivers on whose grassy sidesHer deathless laurel-leaf with which to bind 10Thy flowing locks, already Fame provides;Why then this burthen, better far declin'd? Speak, Canzone! for me. --The Fair One said who guidesMy willing heart, and all my Fancy's flights, "This is the language in which Love delights. " 15

 IV To Charles Diodati. 

Charles--and I say it wond'ring--thou must know That I who once assum'd a scornful air, And scoff'd at love, am fallen in his snare (Full many an upright man has fallen so)Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow 5 Of golden locks, or damask cheek; more rare The heart-felt beauties of my foreign fair; A mien majestic, with dark brows, that showThe tranquil lustre of a lofty mind; Words exquisite, of idioms more than one, 10 And song, whose fascinating pow'r might bind, And from her sphere draw down the lab'ring Moon, With such fire-darting eyes, that should I fill My ears with wax, she would enchant me still. 

 V. 

Lady! It cannot be, but that thine eyes Must be my sun, such radiance they display And strike me ev'n as Phoebus him, whose way Through torrid Libya's sandy desert lies. Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise 5 Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they, New as to me they are, I cannot say, But deem them, in the Lover's language--sighs. Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals, Which, if in part escaping thence, they tend 10 To soften thine, they coldness soon congeals. While others to my tearful eyes ascend, Whence my sad nights in show'rs are ever drown'd, 'Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound. 

 VI. 1

Enamour'd, artless, young, on foreign ground, Uncertain whither from myself to fly, To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh Let me devote my heart, which I have foundBy certain proofs not few, intrepid, sound, 5 Good, and addicted to conceptions high: When tempests shake the world, and fire the sky, It rests in adamant self-wrapt around, As safe from envy, and from outrage rude, From hopes and fears, that vulgar minds abuse, 10 As fond of genius, and fix'd fortitude, Of the resounding lyre, and every Muse. Weak you will find it in one only part, Now pierc'd by Love's immedicable dart. 

1 It has ever been thought difficult for an author to speakgracefully of himself, especially in commendation; but Milton, who was gifted with powers to overcome difficulties, of everykind, is eminently happy in this particular. He has spokenfrequently of himself both in verse and prose, and he continuallyshows that he thought highly of his own endowments; but if hepraises himself, he does it with that dignified frankness andsimplicity of conscious truth, which renders even egotismrespectable and delightful: whether he describes the fervent andtender emotions of his juvenile fancy, or delineates his situationin the decline of life, when he had to struggle with calamityand peril, the more insight he affords us into his own sentimentsand feelings, the more reason we find both to love, and reverehim. --W. C. 

Appendix: Cowper's translation of Andrew Marvell's "To Christina, Queen of Sweden, " &c. 

To Christina, Queen of Sweden, with Cromwell's Picture. 1

Christina, maiden of heroic mien!Star of the North! of northern stars the queen!Behold, what wrinkles I have earn'd, and howThe iron cask still chafes my vet'ran brow, While following fate's dark footsteps, I fulfillThe dictates of a hardy people's will. But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appear, Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe. 

1 Written on Cromwell's behalf, this poem was originally attr. ToMilton, hence Cowper's inclusion of it. It has since beenrecognized as the work of Marvell. 

Appendix: Poems from the Latin Prose Works. Translated by various hands. 

 Epigram From "Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio" (I650). Translated by Joseph Washington (I692). 

 On Salmasius's "Hundreda. "

Who taught Salmasius, the French chatt'ring Pye, 1To try at English, and "Hundreda"2 cry?The starving Rascal, flush'd with just a HundredEnglish Jacobusses, 3 "Hundreda" blunder'd. An outlaw'd King's last stock. --a hundred more, Would make him pimp for th'Antichristian Whore;4And in Rome's praise employ his poison'd Breath, Who once threatn'd to stink the Pope to death. 

1 i. E. The Magpie. 2 Salmasius attempted to do certain English words in his Latin. A "Hundred" was a division of an English shire. 3 The Jacobus was a gold coin named for James I. 4 Salmasius attacked the Pope in "De Primatu Papae" in I645. 

 Epigrams from the "Defensio Secunda" (I654). Translated by Robert Fellowes (I878?). 

 On Salmasius. 

Rejoice, ye herrings, and ye ocean fry, Who, in cold winter, shiver in the sea;The knight, Salmasius, 1 pitying your hard lot, Bounteous intends your nakedness to clothe, And, lavish of his paper, is preparingChartaceous jackets to invest you all, Jackets resplendent with his arms and fame, Exultingly parade the fishy mart, And sing his praise with checquered, livery, That well might serve to grace the letter'd storeOf those who pick their noses and ne'er read. 

1 A play on "Salmon. "

 [Lines Concerning Alexander More. ]1

O Pontia, teeming with More's Gallic seed, You have been Mor'd2 enough, and no More need. 

1 Wrongly attr. To Milton, who prefaced these lines with, "Ingenii, hoc distochon" [Some ingenious person wrote thisdistich]. Milton wrongly believed More to be the author of a libelagainst him. 

2 It is impossible to give a literally exact rendering of this. Ihave played upon the name as well as I could in English. --R. F. 

Appendix: Translation of a Letter to Thomas Young, Translated by Robert Fellows (I878?). 

 To My Tutor, Thomas Young. 

Though I had determined, my excellent tutor, to write you anepistle in verse, yet I could not satisfy myself withoutsending also another in prose, for the emotions of mygratitude, which your services so justly inspire, are tooexpansive and too warm to be expressed in the confined limitsof poetical metre; they demand the unconstrained freedom ofprose, or rather the exuberant richness of Asiaticphraseology: thought it would far exceed my power accuratelyto describe how much I am obliged to you, even if I coulddrain dry all the sources of eloquence, or exhaust all thetopics of discourse which Aristotle or the famed Parisianlogician has collected. You complain with truth that myletters have been very few and very short; but I do notgrieve at the omission of so pleasurable a duty, so much as Irejoice at having such a place in your regard as makes youanxious often to hear from me. I beseech you not to take itamiss, that I have not now written to you for more than threeyears; but with you usual benignity to impute it rather tocircumstances than to inclination. For Heaven knows that Iregard you as a parent, that I have always treated you withthe utmost respect, and that I was unwilling to tease youwith my compositions. And I was anxious that if my lettershad nothing else to recommend them, they might be recommendedby their rarity. And lastly, since the ardour of my regardmakes me imagine that you are always present, that I hearyour voice and contemplate your looks; and as thus... I charmaway my grief by the illusion of your presence, I was afraidwhen I wrote to you the idea of your distant separationshould forcibly rush upon my mind; and that the pain of yourabsence, which was almost soothed into quiescence, shouldrevive and disperse the pleasurable dream. I long sincereceived your desirable present of the Hebrew Bible. I wrotethis at my lodgings in the city, not, as usual, surrounded bymy books. If, therefore, there be anything in this letterwhich either fails to give pleasure, or which frustratesexpectation, it shall be compensated by a more elaboratecomposition as soon as I return to the dwelling of the muses. 1 --London, March 26, I625. 

1 i. E. Cambridge. 

Appendix: Translations of the Italian Poems By George MacDonald (I876). 

 I. 

O lady fair, whose honoured name doth grace Green vale and noble ford of Rheno's stream-- Of all worth void the man I surely deem Whom thy fair soul enamoureth not apace, When softly self-revealed in outer space 5 By actions sweet with which thy will doth teem, And gifts--Love's bow and shafts in their esteem Who tend the flowers one day shall crown thy race. When thou dost lightsome talk or gladsome sing, -- A power to draw the hill-trees, rooted hard-- 10 The doors of eyes and ears let that man keep, Who knows himself unworthy thy regard. Grace from above alone him help can bring, That passion in his heart strike not too deep. 

 II. 

As in the twilight brown, on hillside bare, Useth to go the little shepherd maid, Watering some strange fair plant, poorly displaced, Not thriving in unwonted soil and air, Far from its native springtime's genial care; 5 So on my ready tongue hath Love assayed Of a strange speech to wake new flower and blade, While I of thee, in scorn so debonair, Sing songs whose sense is to my people lost- Yield the fair Thames, and the fair Arno gain. 10 Love willed it so, and I, at others' cost, Already knew Love never willed in vain. Ill would slow mind, hard heart reward the toil Of him who plants from heaven so good a soil, III. Canzone. 

Ladies, and youths that in their favour bask, With mocking smiles come round me: Prithee, why, Why dost thou with an unknown language cope, Love-riming? Whence the courage for the task?Tell us--so never frustrate be thy hope, 5And the best thoughts still to thy thinking fly!Thus mocking they: Thee other streams, they cry, Thee other shores, another sea demands, Upon whose verdant strandsAre budding, every moment, for thy hair, 10Immortal guerdon, leaves that will not die;An over-burden on thy back why bear?-- Song, 1 I will tell thee; thou for me reply:My lady saith-and her word is my heart--This is Love's mother-tongue, and fits his part. 15

1 Ital. "Canzone. "

 IV. To Charles Diodati. 

Diodati--and I muse to tell the tale-- This stubborn I, that Love was wont despise, And made a laughter of his snares, unwise, Am fallen, where honest feet will sometimes fail. Not golden tresses, not a cheek vermeil, 5 Bewitched me thus; but, in a new-world guise, A beauty that the heart beatifies; A mien where high-souled modesty I hail;Eyes softly splendent with a darkness dear; A speech that more than one tongue vassal hath; 10 A voice that in the middle hemisphereMight make the tired moon wander from her path; While from her eyes such potent flashes shoot, That to stop hard my ears would little boot. 

 V. 

Truly, 1 my lady sweet, your blessed eyes-- It cannot be but that they are my sun; As strong they smite me as he smites upon The man whose way o'er Libyan desert lies, The while a vapour hot doth me surprise, 5 From that side springing where my pain doth won; Perchance accustomed lovers--I am none, And know not--in their speech call such things sighs;A part shut in, itself, sore vexed, conceals, And shakes my bosom; part, undisciplined, 10 Breaks forth, and all about in ice congeals;But that which to mine eyes the way doth find, Makes all my nights in silent showers abound, Until my Dawn2 returns, with roses crowned. 

1 Correcting MacDonald's "Certes" (Ital. "Per Certo"). 2 [Ital. ] "Alba"-I suspect a hint at the lady's name. -G. M. 

 VI. 

A modest youth, in love a simpleton, When to escape myself I seek and shift, Lady, I of my heart the humble gift Vow unto thee. In trials many a one, True, brave, it has been, firm to things begun, 5 By gracious, prudent, worthy thoughts uplift. When roars the great world, in the thunder-rift, Its own self, armour adamant, it will don, From chance and envy as securely barred, From hopes and fears that still the crowd abuse, 10 As inward gifts and high worth coveting, And the resounding lyre, and every Muse. There only wilt thou find it not so hard Where Love hath fixed his ever cureless sting.