Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (111 page)

To entertain you two, her widest Gates,
And send forth all her Kings; there will be room,
Not like these narrow limits, to receive
Your numerous ofspring; if no better place,
  
385
Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge
On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd.
And should I at your harmless innocence
Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just,
Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg’d,
  
390
By conquering this new World, compels me now
To do what else though damnd I should abhorre.
So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie,
The
Tyrants plea
, excus’d his devilish deeds.
Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree
  
395
Down he alights among the sportful Herd
Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one,
Now other, as thir shape servd best his end
Neerer to view his prey, and unespi’d
To mark what of thir state he more might learn
  
400
By word or action markt: about them round
A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare,
Then as a Tyger, who by chance hath spi’d
In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play,
Strait couches close, then rising changes oft
  
405
His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground
Whence rushing he might surest seize them both
Gript in each paw: when Adam first of men
To first of women Eve thus moving speech,
Turnd him all eare to hear new utterance flow.
  
410
Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes,
Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power
That made us, and for us this ample World
Be infinitly good, and of his good
As liberal and free as infinite,
  
415
That rais’d us from the dust and plac’t us here
In all this happiness, who at his hand
Have nothing merited, nor can performe
Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires
From us no other service then to keep
  
420
This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees
In Paradise that bear delicious fruit
So various, not to taste that onely Tree
Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life,
So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is,
  
425
Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst
God hath pronounc’t it death to taste that Tree,
The only sign of our obedience left
Among so many signes of power and rule
Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv’n
  
430
Over all other Creatures that possess
Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard
One easie prohibition, who enjoy
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice
Unlimited of manifold delights:
  
435
But let us ever praise him, and extoll
His bountie, following our delightful task
To prune these growing Plants, and tend these Flours,
Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Lycidas

John Milton (1608-1674)

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 fortels the ruine of our corrupted Clergy then in their height.

Ye
t once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,
I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
And with forc’d fingers rude,
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
  
5
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For
Lycidas
is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young
Lycidas
, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for
Lycidas
? he knew
  
10
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not flote upon his watry bear
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of som melodious tear.

Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
  
15
That from beneath the seat of
Jove
doth spring,
Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
So may som gentle Muse
With lucky words favour my destin’d Urn,
  
20
And as he passes turn,
And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd.
For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.

Together both, ere the high Lawns appear’d
  
25
Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
We drove a field, and both together heard
What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev’ning, bright
  
30
Toward Heav’ns descent had slop’d his westering wheel.
Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,
Temper’d to th’ Oaten Flute,
Rough
Satyrs
danc’d, and
Fauns
with clov’n heel,
From the glad sound would not be absent long,
  
35
And old
Damœtas
lov’d to hear our song.

But O the heavy change, now thou art gon,
Now thou art gon, and never must return!
Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves,
With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o’regrown,
  
40
And all their echoes mourn.
The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,
Shall now no more be seen,
Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes.
As killing as the Canker to the Rose,
  
45
Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze,
Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,
When first the White thorn blows;
Such,
Lycidas
, thy loss to Shepherds ear.

Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep
  
50
Clos’d o’re the head of your lov’d
Lycidas
?
For neither were ye playing on the steep,
Where your old
Bards
, the famous
Druids
ly,
Nor on the shaggy top of
Mona
high,
Nor yet where
Deva
spreads her wisard stream:
  
55
Ay me, I fondly dream!
Had ye bin there — for what could that have don?
What could the Muse her self that
Orpheus
bore,
The Muse her self, for her inchanting son
Whom Universal nature did lament,
  
60
When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His goary visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift
Hebrus
to the
Lesbian
shore.

Alas! What boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade,
  
65
And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,
Were it not better don as others use,
To sport with
Amaryllis
in the shade,
Or with the tangles of
Neæra’s
hair?
Fame
is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
  
70
(That last infirmity of Noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes;
But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into
sudden
blaze,
Comes the blind
Fury
with th’ abhorred shears,
  
75
And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,
Phœbus
repli’d, and touch’d my trembling ears;
Fame
is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to th’ world, nor in broad rumour lies,
  
80
But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfet witnes of all judging
Jove
;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in Heav’n expect thy meed.

O Fountain
Arethuse
, and thou honour’d flood,
  
85
Smooth-sliding
Mincius
, crown’d with vocall reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my Oate proceeds,
And listens to the Herald of the Sea
That came in
Neptune’s
plea,
  
90
He ask’d the Waves, and ask’d the Fellon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom’d this gentle swain?
And question’d every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked Promontory,
They knew not of his story,
  
95
And sage
Hippotades
their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray’d,
The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine,
Sleek
Panope
with all her sisters play’d.
It was that fatall and perfidious Bark
  
100
Built in th’ eclipse, and rigg’d with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

Next
Camus
, reverend Sire, went footing slow,
His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
  
105
Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe.
Ah! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
Last came, and last did go,
The Pilot of the
Galilean
lake,
Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain,
  
110
(The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)
He shook his Miter’d locks, and stern bespake,
How well could I have spar’d for thee young swain,
Anow of
such
as for their bellies sake,
Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
  
115
Of other care they little reck’ning make,
Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn’d ought els the least
  
120
That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
The hungry Sheep look up
, and are not fed,
  
125
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,
But that two-handed engine at the door,
  
130
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

Return
Alpheus
, the dread voice is past,
That shrunk thy streams; Return
Sicilian
Muse
,
And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast
Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues.
  
135
Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use,
Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,
That on the green terf suck the honied showres,
  
140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowres.
Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.
The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Jasmine,
The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,
The glowing Violet.
  
145
The Musk-rose, and the well attir’d Woodbine,
With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid
Amaranthus
all his beauty shed,
And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
  
150
To strew the Laureat Herse where
Lycid
lies.
For so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
Ay me! Whilst thee the shores and sounding Seas
Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurld,
  
155
Whether beyond the stormy
Hebrides
,
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou to our moist vows deny’d,
Sleep’st by the fable of
Bellerus
old,
  
160
Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
Looks toward
Namancos
and
Bayona’s
hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
And, O ye
Dolphins
, waft the haples youth.

Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,
  
165
For
Lycidas
your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar,
So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled Ore,
  
170
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So
Lycidas
sunk low, but
mounted
high,
Through the dear might of him that walk’d the waves;
Where other groves, and other streams along,
With
Nectar
pure his oozy Lock’s he laves,
  
175
And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song,
In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet Societies
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
  
180
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now
Lycidas
the Shepherds weep no more;
Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
  
185

Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th’ Okes and rills,
While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,
He touch’d the tender stops of various Quills,
With eager thought
warbling
his
Dorick
lay:
And now the Sun had stretch’d out all the hills,
  
190
And now was dropt into the Western bay;
At last he rose, and twitch’d his Mantle blew:
To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order