John Milton

This rich Marble doth enterr The honour'd Wife of Winchester, A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,

What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones The labor of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid

Hail native Language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps,

I O fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie,

Here lieth one who did most truly prove, That he could never die while he could move, So hung his destiny never to rot

Purgatorem animae derisit Jacobus ignem, Et sine quo superum non adeunda domus. Frenduit hoc trina monstrum Latiale corona

Quem modo Roma suis devoverat impia diris, Et Styge damnarat Taenarioque sinu, Hunc vice mutata jam tollere gestit ad astra,

I. SONG. Look Nymphs, and Shepherds look, What sudden blaze of majesty

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy, Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ

Hail native Language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps,

Ridonsi donne e giovani amorosi M' occostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi, Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana

[From Of Reformation in England, 1641.] Ah Constantine, of how much ill was cause Not thy Conversion, but those rich demains

A Masque presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634,

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,

Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear, Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey, Although thyself an herald, famous here,

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone, Making in thought the public woes my own, When, first, arose the image in my breast

Hence, my epistle skim the Deep fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore! Haste lest a friend should grieve for thy delay

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,

Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished. With no rich viands overcharg'd, I send Health, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend;

As yet a stranger to the gentle fires That Amathusia's smiling Queen2 inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts,

This rich marble doth inter The honoured wife of Winchester, A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir,

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on wtih full career,

Hence vain deluding joyes, The brood of folly without father bred, How little you bested,

Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn

Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav'n first-born, Or of th' Eternal Coeternal beam May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light,

In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunatly drown'd in his Passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637. And by occasion foretels the ruine of our corrupted Clergy then in their height. Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,

Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestus from the grave, Who Jove's great Son to her glad Husband gave,

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide

Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,

When I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold, In slender Book his vast Design unfold, Messiah Crown'd, Gods Reconcil'd Decree,

What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones, The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid

I O fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie,

I This is the Month, and this the happy morn Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load

Here lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt, And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,

Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;

My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed

Learn ye nations of the earth The condition of your birth, Now be taught your feeble state,

Survey my Features, you will own it clear That little skill has been exerted here. My Friends, who know me not here smile to see

Am pius extrema veniens Jacobus ab arcto Teucrigenas populos, lateque patentia regna Albionum tenuit, jamque inviolabile foedus

Cum simul in regem nuper satrapasque Britannos Ausus es infandum perfide Fauxe nefas, Fallor? an & mitis voluisti ex parte videri,

Praise in old time the sage Prometheus won, Who stole ethereal radiance from the sun; But greater he, whose bold invention strove

Fairfax, whose name in armes through Europe rings Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise, And all her jealous monarchs with amaze,

Ye sister Pow'rs who o'er the sacred groves Preside, and, Thou, fair mother of them all Mnemosyne,1 and thou, who in thy grot

Because you have thrown of your Prelate Lord, And with stiff Vowes renounc'd his Liturgie To seise the widdow'd whore Pluralitie

Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,

High on a Throne of Royal State, which far Outshon the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand

Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav'n first-born, Or of th' Eternal Coeternal beam May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light,

O for that warning voice, which he who saw Th' Apocalyps, heard cry in Heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,

Meanwhile the hainous and despightfull act Of Satan done in Paradise, and how Hee in the Serpent had perverted Eve,

Now Morn her rosie steps in th' Eastern Clime Advancing, sow'd the Earth with Orient Pearle, When Adam wak't, so customd, for his sleep

All night the dreadless Angel unpursu'd Through Heav'ns wide Champain held his way, till Morn, Wak't by the circling Hours, with rosie hand

Descend from Heav'n Urania, by that name If rightly thou art call'd, whose Voice divine Following, above th' Olympian Hill I soare,

No more of talk where God or Angel Guest With Man, as with his Friend, familiar us'd To sit indulgent, and with him partake

Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd

I who e're while the happy Garden sung, By one mans disobedience lost, now sing Recover'd Paradise to all mankind,

Perplex'd and troubl'd at his bad success The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,

Mean while the new-baptiz'd, who yet remain'd At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen Him whom they heard so late expresly call'd

So spake the Son of God, and Satan stood A while as mute confounded what to say, What to reply, confuted and convinc't

Quales aerii montis de vertice nubes Cum surgunt, et jam Boreae tumida ora quierunt, Caelum hilares abdit spissa caligine vultus,

Bless'd is the man who hath not walk'd astray In counsel of the wicked, and ith'way Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat

Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand With power, and Princes in their Congregations

Lord how many are my foes How many those That in arms against me rise

Answer me when I call God of my righteousness; In straights and in distress

Thou Shepherd that dost Israel keep Give ear in time of need, Who leadest like a flock of sheep

To God our strength sing loud, and clear, Sing loud to God our King, To Jacobs God, that all may hear

God in the *1great *1assembly stands Of Kings and lordly States, Among the gods*2 on both his hands.

Be not thou silent now at length O God hold not thy peace, Sit not thou still O God of strength

How lovely are thy dwellings fair! O Lord of Hoasts, how dear The pleasant Tabernacles are!

Thy Land to favour graciously Thou hast not Lord been slack, Thou hast from hard Captivity

Thy gracious ear, O Lord, encline, O hear me I thee pray, For I am poor, and almost pine

Among the holy Mountains high Is his foundation fast, There Seated in his Sanctuary,

Lord God that dost me save and keep, All day to thee I cry; And all night long, before thee weep

Jehovah to my words give ear My meditation waigh The voyce of my complaining hear

Lord in thine anger do not reprehend me Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct; Pity me Lord for I am much deject

Lord my God to thee I flie Save me and secure me under Thy protection while I crie

O Jehovah our Lord how wondrous great And glorious is thy name through all the earth? So as above the Heavens thy praise to set

When Israel by Jehovah call'd From Egypt's hostile plain, Pour'd forth in numbers as the Sand

When the blest seed of Terah's faithful Son,1 After long toil their liberty had won, And past from Pharian2 fields to Canaan Land,

Of that sort of Dramatic Poem which is call'd Tragedy. Tragedy, as it was antiently compos'd, hath been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other Poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and such like passions, that is to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirr'd up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion: for so in Physic things of melancholic hue and quality are us'd against melancholy, sowr against sowr, salt to remove salt humours. Hence Philosophers and other gravest Writers, as Cicero, Plutarch and others, frequently cite out of Tragic Poets, both to adorn and illustrate thir discourse.    The Apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the Text of Holy Scripture, I Cor. 15. 33. and Paraeus commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole Book as a Tragedy, into Acts distinguisht each by a Chorus of Heavenly Harpings and Song between. Heretofore Men in highest dignity have labour'd not a little to be thought able to compose a Tragedy.    Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious, then before of his attaining to the Tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but unable to please his own judgment with what he had begun. left it unfinisht.    Seneca the Philosopher is by some thought the Author of those Tragedies (at lest the best of them) that go under that name.    Gregory Nazianzen a Father of the Church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a Tragedy which he entitl'd, Christ suffering. This is mention'd to vindicate Tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day with other common Interludes; hap'ning through the Poets error of intermixing Comic stuff with Tragic sadness and gravity; or introducing trivial and vulgar persons, which by all judicious hath bin counted absurd; and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratifie the people.

Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws

To Mr Lawrence Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,

Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;

O nightingale that on yon blooming spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hopes the Lover's heart dost fill,

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill,

Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco, Ben e colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera L'avezza giovinetta pastorella Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella

Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia, Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea

Lady that in the prime of earliest youth, Wisely hath shun'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen,

Per certo i bei vostr'occhi Donna mia Esser non puo che non fian lo mio sole Si mi percuoton forte, come ci suole

Giovane piano, e semplicetto amante Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono, Madonna a voi del mio cuor l'humil dono

How soon hath Time the suttle theef of youth, Stoln on his wing my three and twentith yeer ! My hasting dayes flie on with full career,

Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, Whose chance on these defenceless dores may sease, If ever deed of honour did thee please,

Daughter to that good Earl, once President Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury, Who liv'd in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,

A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon; And wov'n close, both matter, form and stile; The Subject new: it walk'd the Town a while,

I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs By the known rules of antient libertie, When strait a barbarous noise environs me

Harry whose tuneful and well measur'd Song First taught our English Musick how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan

When Faith and Love which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load

Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,

Avenge O lord thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold, Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old

When I consider how my light is spent, E're half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide,

Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son, Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire

Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause Pronounc't and in his volumes taught our Lawes,

Ah, how the Human Mind wearies herself With her own wand'rings, and, involved in gloom Impenetrable, speculates amiss!

The Argument. Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds and neighbours, had always pursued the same studies, and had, from their earliest days, been united in the closest friendship. Thyrsis, while traveling for improvement, received intelligence of the death of Damon, and, after a time, returning and finding it true, deplores himself and his solitary condition, in this poem. By Damon is to be understood Charles Diodati, connected with the Italian city of Lucca by his Father's side, in other respects an Englishman; a youth of uncommon genius, erudition, and virtue.

A Peasant to his lord yearly court, Presenting pippins of so rich a sort That he, displeased to have a part alone,

Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the Language permit. What slender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave,

It was the winter wild, While the heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;

I Ere-while of Musick, and Ethereal mirth, Wherwith the stage of Ayr and Earth did ring,

Know this, O King! that if thou shalt destroy Me, no man's enemy and who have liv'd Obedient to the Laws, thou may'st with ease

1Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an Italian Nobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, for Genius, Literature,and military accomplishments. To Him Torquato Tasso addressed his "Dialogue on Friendship," for he was much the friend of Tasso, who has also celebrated him among 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 hands of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, sent him this poem a short time before his departure from that city.

My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song! And lik'st that pace expressive of thy cares

Another Leonora1 once inspir'd Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy fir'd, But how much happier, liv'd he now, were he,

Naples, too credulous, ah! boast no more The sweet-voiced Siren buried on thy shore, That, when Parthenope1 deceas'd, she gave

Angelus unicuique suus (sic credite gentes) Obtigit aethereis ales ab ordinibus. Quid mirum? Leonora tibi si gloria major,

Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear To outward view, of blemish or of spot; Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot,

Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan

An Ode 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

Oh that Pieria's spring1 would thro' my breast Pour its inspiring influence, and rush No rill, but rather an o'erflowing flood!

Vane, young in yeares, but in sage counsell old, Then whome a better Senatour nere held The helme of Rome, when gownes not armes repelld

Lady! that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen,

Daughter to that good Earl, one President Of England's Council and her Treasury, Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,

Cromwell, our cheif of men, who through a cloud Not of warr onely, but detractions rude, Guided by faith & matchless Fortitude

Fair Lady, whose harmonious name the Rheno Through all his grassy vale delights to hear, Base were, indeed, the wretch, who could forbear

As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some past'ral maiden fair Waters a lovely foreign plant with care,

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?

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

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

Enamour'd, artless, young, on foreign ground, Uncertain whither from myself to fly, To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh

Ye flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright, That erst with Musick, and triumphant song First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear,

Captain, or colonel, or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If deed of honour did thee ever please,