Book iii
. l.59: His own works and their works at once to view with line 113: Thir maker and thir making and thir Fate. But the use is not consistent, and the form thir is not found at all till the 349th line of the First Book. The distinction is kept up in the Paradise Regain'd and Samson Agonistes, but, if possible, with even less consistency. Such passages, however, as Paradise Regain'd, iii. 414-440; Samson Agonistes, 880-890, are certainly spelt upon a method, and it is noticeable that in the choruses the lighter form is universal.
Paradise Regain'd and Samson Agonistes were published in 1671, and no further edition was called for in the remaining three years of the poet's lifetime, so that in the case of these poems there are no new readings to record; and the texts were so carefully revised, that only one fault (Paradise Regain'd, ii. 309) was left for correction later. In these and the other poems I have corrected the misprints catalogued in the tables of Errata, and I have silently corrected any other unless it might be mistaken for a various reading, when I have called attention to it in a note. Thus I have not recorded such blunders as Lethian for Lesbian in the 1645 text of Lycidas, line 63; or hallow for hollow in Paradise Lost, vi. 484; but I have noted content for concent, in At a Solemn Musick, line 6.
In conclusion I have to offer my sincere thanks to all who have collaborated with me in preparing this Edition; to the Delegates of the Oxford Press for allowing me to undertake it and decorate it with so many facsimiles; to the Controller of the Press for his unfailing courtesy; to the printers and printer's reader for their care and pains. Coming nearer home I cannot but acknowledge the help I have received in looking over proof-sheets from my sister, Mrs. P. A. Barnett, who has ungrudgingly put at the service of this book both time and eyesight. In taking leave of it, I may be permitted to say that it has cost more of both these inestimable treasures than I had anticipated. The last proof reaches me just a year after the first, and the progress of the work has not in the interval been interrupted. In tenui labor et tenuis gloria. Nevertheless I cannot be sorry it was undertaken.
H. C. B.
YATTENDON RECTORY, November 8, 1899.
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of 1645 edition follows:
POEMS OF Mr John Milton, BOTH ENGLISH and LATIN Compos'd at several times. ------------------------------ Printed by his true copies. ------------------------------ The SONGS were set in Musick by Mr. HENRY LAWES Gentleman of the KINGS Chappel, and one of His MAIESTIES Private Musick.
--------Baccare frontem Cingite, ne vace noceat mala lingua futuro, Virgil, Eclog. 7. ----------------------------------------- Printed, and Publish'd according to ORDER. ----------------------------------------- LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard. 1645.
Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of 1673 edition follows:
POEMS, &c. UPON Several Occasions. -------------------------- BY Mr. John Milton: -------------------------- Both ENGLISH and LATIN &c. Composed at several times. -------------------------- With a small tractate of EDUCATION To Mr. HARTLIB -------------------------- -------------------------- LONDON. Printed for Tho. Dring at the Blew Anchor next Mitre Court over against Fetter Lane in Fleet-street. 1673.
THE STATIONER TO THE READER.
It is not any Private respect of gain, Gentle Reader, for the slightest Pamphlet is now adayes more vendible then the Works of learnedest men; but it is the love I have to our own Language that hath made me diligent to collect, and set forth such Peeces in Prose and Vers as may renew the wonted honour and esteem of our tongue: and it's the worth of these both English and Latin poems, not the flourish of any prefixed encomions that can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest Commendations and Applause of the learnedst Academicks, both domestic and forrein: And amongst those of our own Countrey, the unparalleled attestation of that renowned Provost of Eaton, Sir Henry Wootton: I know not thy palat how it relishes such dainties, nor how harmonious thy soul is; perhaps more trivial Airs may please thee better. But howsoever thy opinion is spent upon these, that incouragement I have already received from the most ingenious men in their clear and courteous entertainment of Mr. Wallers late choice Peeces, hath once more made me adventure into the World, presenting it with these ever-green, and not to be blasted Laurels. The Authors more peculiar excellency in these studies, was too well known to conceal his Papers, or to keep me from attempting to sollicit them from him. Let the event guide it self which way it will, I shall deserve of the age, by bringing into the Light as true a Birth, as the Muses have brought forth since our famous Spencer wrote; whose Poems in these English ones are as rarely imitated, as sweetly excell'd. Reader, if thou art Eagle-eied to censure their worth, I am not fearful to expose them to thy exactest perusal.
Thine to Command
HUMPH. MOSELEY.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
ON THE MORNING OF CHRISTS NATIVITY. Compos'd 1629.
I
This is the Month, and this the happy morn Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King, Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
II
That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty, Wherwith he wont at Heav'ns high Councel-Table, 10 To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside; and here with us to be, Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day, And chose with us a darksom House of mortal Clay.
III
Say Heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein, To welcom him to this his new abode, Now while the Heav'n by the Suns team untrod, Hath took no print of the approching light, 20 And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
IV
See how from far upon the Eastern rode The Star-led Wisards haste with odours sweet, O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first, thy Lord to greet, And joyn thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
The Hymn.
I
IT was the Winter wilde, While the Heav'n-born-childe, 30 All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in aw to him Had doff't her gawdy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.
II
Only with speeches fair She woo'd the gentle Air To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow, And on her naked shame, 40 Pollute with sinfull blame, The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw, Confounded, that her Makers eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
III
But he her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyd Peace, She crown'd with Olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphear His ready Harbinger, With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, 50 And waving wide her mirtle wand, She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land.
IV
No War, or Battails sound Was heard the World around, The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked Chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood, The Trumpet spake not to the armed throng, And Kings sate still with awfull eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 60
V
But peacefull was the night Wherin the Prince of light His raign of peace upon the earth began: The Windes with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist, Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
VI
The Stars with deep amaze Stand fit in steadfast gaze, 70 Bending one way their pretious influence, And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; But in their glimmering Orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
VII
And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, 80 As his inferior flame, The new enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater Sun appear Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.
VIII
The Shepherds on the Lawn, Or ere the point of dawn, Sate simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than, That the mighty Pan Was kindly com to live with them below; 90 Perhaps their loves, or els their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep.
IX
When such Musick sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blisfull rapture took: The Air such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close. 100
X
Nature that heard such sound Beneath the hollow round of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was don And that her raign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
XI
At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, 110 That with long beams the shame faced night arrayed The helmed Cherubim And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid, Harping in loud and solemn quire, With unexpressive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.
XII
Such Musick (as 'tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator Great His constellations set, 120 And the well-ballanc't world on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
XIII
Ring out ye Crystall sphears, Once bless our human ears, (If ye have power to touch our senses so) And let your silver chime Move in melodious time; And let the Base of Heav'ns deep Organ blow, 130 And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to th'Angelike symphony.
XIV
For if such holy Song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, And speckl'd vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell it self will pass away And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 140
XV
Yea Truth, and Justice then Will down return to men, Th'enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing, And Mercy set between Thron'd in Celestiall sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing, And Heav'n as at som festivall, Will open wide the gates of her high Palace Hall.
XVI
But wisest Fate sayes no, This must not yet be so, 150 The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy, That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss; So both himself and us to glorifie: Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep, The Wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep,
XVII
With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake: The aged Earth agast 160 With terrour of that blast, Shall from the surface to the center shake; When at the worlds last session, The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.
XVIII
And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day Th'old Dragon under ground In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway, 170 And wrath to see his Kingdom fail, Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.
XIX
The Oracles are dumm, No voice or hideous humm Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspire's the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell. 180
XX
The lonely mountains o're, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent, With flowre-inwov'n tresses torn The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
XXI
In consecrated Earth, And on the holy Hearth, 190 The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint, In Urns, and Altars round, A drear, and dying sound Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint; And the chill Marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.
XXII
Peor, and Baalim, Forsake their Temples dim, With that twise-batter'd god of Palestine, And mooned Ashtaroth, 200 Heav'ns Queen and Mother both, Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine, The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn, In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.
XXIII
And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dred, His burning Idol all of blackest hue, In vain with Cymbals ring, They call the grisly king, In dismall dance about the furnace Blue; 210 And Brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis hast.
XXIV
Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest, Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud: In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
XXV
He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand, The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew.
XXVI
So when the Sun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to th'infernal jail, Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
XXVII
But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest: Time is our tedious song should here have ending. Heav'n's youngest-teemed star, Hath fix'd her polish'd car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable, Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
THE PASSION.
I
ERE-while of Musick, and Ethereal mirth, Wherwith the stage of Ayr and Earth did ring, And joyous news of heav'nly Infants birth, My muse with Angels did divide to sing; But headlong joy is ever on the wing, In Wintry solstice like the shortn'd light Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.
II
For now to sorrow must I tune my song, And set my Harpe to notes of saddest wo, Which on our dearest Lord did sease er'e long, Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse then so, 10 Which he for us did freely undergo. Most perfect Heroe, try'd in heaviest plight Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight.
III
He sov'ran Priest stooping his regall head That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, Poor fleshly Tabernacle entered, His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies; O what a Mask was there, what a disguise! Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide, 20 Then lies him meekly down fast by his Brethrens side.
IV
These latter scenes confine my roving vers, To this Horizon is my Phoebus bound, His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, And former sufferings other where are found; Loud o're the rest Cremona's Trump doth sound; Me softer airs befit, and softer strings Of Lute, or Viol still, more apt for mournful things.
Note: 22 latter] latest 1673.
V
Befriend me night best Patroness of grief, Over the Pole thy thickest mantle throw, 30 And work my flatterd fancy to belief, That Heav'n and Earth are colour'd with my wo; My sorrows are too dark for day to know: The leaves should all be black wheron I write, And letters where my tears have washt a wannish white.
VI
See see the Chariot, and those rushing wheels, That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood, My spirit som transporting Cherub feels, To bear me where the Towers of Salem stood, Once glorious Towers, now sunk in guiltles blood; 40 There doth my soul in holy vision sit In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatick fit.
VII
Mine eye hath found that sad Sepulchral rock That was the Casket of Heav'ns richest store, And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock, Yet on the softned Quarry would I score My plaining vers as lively as before; For sure so well instructed are my tears, They would fitly fall in order'd Characters.
VIII
I thence hurried on viewles wing, 50 Take up a weeping on the Mountains wilde, The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring Would soon unboosom all their Echoes milde, And I (for grief is easily beguild) Might think th'infection of my sorrows bound, Had got a race of mourners on som pregnant cloud.
Note: This subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfi'd with what was begun, left it unfinish'd.
ON TIME.
FLY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace; And glut thy self with what thy womb devours, Which is no more then what is false and vain, And meerly mortal dross; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain. For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, 10 Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual kiss; And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, When every thing that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine About the supreme Throne Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone, When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime, Then all this Earthy grosnes quit, 20 Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.
Note: See the appendix for the manuscript version.
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright, That erst with Musick, and triumphant song First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So sweetly sung your Joy the Clouds along Through the soft silence of the list'ning night; Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear Your fiery essence can distill no tear, Burn in your sighs, and borrow Seas wept from our deep sorrow, He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whileare 10 Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease; Alas, how soon our sin Sore doth begin His Infancy to sease!
O more exceeding love or law more just? Just law indeed, but more exceeding love! For we by rightfull doom remediles Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakednes; 20 And that great Cov'nant which we still transgress Intirely satisfi'd, And the full wrath beside Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first with wounding smart This day, but O ere long Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more neer his heart.
AT A SOLEMN MUSICK.
BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy, Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, And to our high-rais'd phantasie present, That undisturbed Song of pure content, Ay sung before the saphire-colour'd throne To him that sits theron With Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily, Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 10 Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow, And the Cherubick host in thousand quires Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms, Hymns devout and holy Psalms Singing everlastingly; That we on Earth with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against natures chime, and with harsh din 20 The fair musick that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In perfect Diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we soon again renew that Song, And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long To his celestial consort us unite, To live with him, and sing in endles morn of light.
Note: 6 content] Manuscript reads concent as does the Second Edition; so that content is probably a misprint.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.
THIS rich Marble doth enterr The honour'd Wife of Winchester, A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir, Besides what her vertues fair Added to her noble birth, More then she could own from Earth. Summers three times eight save one She had told, alas too soon, After so short time of breath, To house with darknes, and with death. 10 Yet had the number of her days Bin as compleat as was her praise, Nature and fate had had no strife In giving limit to her life. Her high birth, and her graces sweet, Quickly found a lover meet; The Virgin quire for her request The God that sits at marriage feast; He at their invoking came But with a scarce-wel-lighted flame; 20 And in his Garland as he stood, Ye might discern a Cipress bud. Once had the early Matrons run To greet her of a lovely son, And now with second hope she goes, And calls Lucina to her throws; But whether by mischance or blame Atropos for Lucina came; And with remorsles cruelty, Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree: 30 The haples Babe before his birth Had burial, yet not laid in earth, And the languisht Mothers Womb Was not long a living Tomb. So have I seen som tender slip Sav'd with care from Winters nip, The pride of her carnation train, Pluck't up by som unheedy swain, Who onely thought to crop the flowr New shot up from vernall showr; 40 But the fair blossom hangs the head Side-ways as on a dying bed, And those Pearls of dew she wears, Prove to be presaging tears Which the sad morn had let fall On her hast'ning funerall. Gentle Lady may thy grave Peace and quiet ever have; After this thy travail sore Sweet rest sease thee evermore, 50 That to give the world encrease, Shortned hast thy own lives lease; Here besides the sorrowing That thy noble House doth bring, Here be tears of perfect moan Weept for thee in Helicon, And som Flowers, and som Bays, For thy Hears to strew the ways, Sent thee from the banks of Came, Devoted to thy vertuous name; 60 Whilst thou bright Saint high sit'st in glory, Next her much like to thee in story, That fair Syrian Shepherdess, Who after yeers of barrennes, The highly favour'd Joseph bore To him that serv'd for her before, And at her next birth much like thee, Through pangs fled to felicity, Far within the boosom bright of blazing Majesty and Light, 70 There with thee, new welcom Saint, Like fortunes may her soul acquaint, With thee there clad in radiant sheen, No Marchioness, but now a Queen.
SONG ON MAY MORNING.
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 The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire, Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing, Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early Song, And welcom thee, and wish thee long. 10
ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630.
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 Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thy self a live-long Monument. For whilst to th'shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart 10 Hath from the Leaves of thy unvalu'd Book, Those Delphick lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving, Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving; And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie, That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.
Notes: On Shakespear. Reprinted 1632 in the second folio Shakespeare: Title] An epitaph on the admirable dramaticke poet W. Shakespeare 1 needs] neede 6 weak] dull 8 live-long] lasting 10 heart]