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My muse with Angels did divide to sing; The gentle neighbourhood of grove and fpring But headlong joy is ever on the wing,


Would soon unbofom all their echoes mild, In wintry folftice like the shorten'd light And I (for grief is easily beguild) Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living Might think th' infection of my forrows loud night.

Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud.

56 II. For now to forrow must I tune my song,

(This subje&t the Author finding to be above the years be And let my harp to notes of laddett woe,

bad, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with Which on our deareft Lord did seize ere long, 10

wbat was begun, left it unfinifb'd.] Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so,

V. Which he for us did freely undergo :

On Time. Most perfe& Hero, try'd in heaviest plight. Of labors huge and hard, too hard for human TLY envious Time, till chou run out thy race, might!

Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's paces

And glue thyself with what thy womb devours, He fouran Priet ftooping his regal head, 15

Which is no more than what is false and yain, 3 That drope with odorous oil down his fair eyes,

And merely mortal dross; Poor Acsily tabernacle entered,

So little is our loss, His stary front low-rooft beneath the skies; So little is thy gain. O what a mask was there, what a disguise !

For when as each thing had thou hast intomb'd, Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide,

And last of all thy greedy self consumid, Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethren's

Then long Eternity hall greet our bliss lide.

With an individual kils;

And Joy Thall overtake us as a flood,
These latest scenes confine my roving verse, When every thing that is fincerely good
To this horizon is my Phebus bound;

And perfectly divine,

IS His Godlike a&s, and his temptations fierce, With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever thing And foriner sufferings other-where are found; 25

About the fuprcme throne
Loud o'er the reit Cremona's crunip doth sound; of him, t' whose happy-making fight alone
Me softer airs befit, and softer strings

When once our heav'nly-guided soul fhall climb, Of luce, or viol fill, more apt for mournful things.

Then all this earthy grossness quit,
Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever fit,

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, Befriend me, Night, best patroness of grief,

Over the pole thy thicketi mantle throw, 30
And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,

That Heav's and Earth are color'd with my woe;
My sorrows are too dark for day to know :

Upon the Crucifixion.
The leaves should all be black whereon I write,

E flaming Powers, and winged Warriors And letters where my tears have wash'd a wannish

bright, white.


That erst with music, and triumphant song,

First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, So fwectly fung your joy the clouds along That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar floud, Through the loft silence of the list'ning night; s My spirit some transporting Cherub feels,

Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear To bear me where the towers of Salem stood, Your fiery efferice can diltil no tear, Once glorious tow'rs, now funk in guiltlefs blood; Burn in your fighs, and borrow There doth my soul in holy vision lit

Seas wepe from our deep sorrow : la penlive trance, and anguilh, and ecitatic fit. He who with all Heav'u's heraldry whilere





Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us case;

Alas, how soon our lio
Mine eye hath found that fad fepulchral rock Sore doth begin
That was the casket of Heav'n's richest store,

His infancy to seize!
And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock, O more exceeding love or law more just! TS
Yet on the soften': quarry would I score 46 Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!
My plaining verse as lively as before;

For we by rightful dou? remedilefs
For sure so well instructed are my tears, Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
That they would fitly fall in order'd characters. High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust

Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;

And that great covenant which we fill transgress Dr should I thence hurried on viewless wing, 50 Entirely satisfied,

up a weeping on the mountains wild, And the full wrath beside VOL. II.

2 IT)



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Song. On May Morning.

Another on the fame.
TOW the bright morning star, day’s harbin. Herhalie could never dic while he could move;

ERE lieth one,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her So hung his destiny, never to rot
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws While he might itill jog on and keep his trot,
The yellow cowilip, and the pale primrose.
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay

5 Hail bounteous May, that dost inspire 5

Until his revolution was at itay. Mirth and youth and warm defire;

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time: Hill and dale doth boast thy blefling.

And, like an engin mov'd with whcel and weight, Thus we falute thee with our early song,

His principles being ceasd, he ended strait.
And welcome thee, and with thee long.

Reft, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm

Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.

Merely to drive the time away be ficken'd, IS
On Shakespear. 1630.

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quick

en'd; WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd

Nay, quoth hc, on his swooning hed out-stretch'd, bones

If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, The labor of an age in piled stones,

But vow, though the cross doctors all Ituod hearOr that his hallow'd reliques should be hid,

ers, Under a stary-pointing pyramid ?

For one carrier put down to make fix bearers. 20 Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, 5

Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?

He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light : Thou in our wonder and astonishment

His leisure told him that his time was come, Haft built thyself a live-long monument.

And lack of load made his life burdensome, For whilst to th' fhame of flow-endevoring art

That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't) Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart

As he were press’d to death, he cry'd, More Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book


26 Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, But had his doings lasted as they were, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,

He had been an immortal carrier. Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ;

Obedient to the moon he spent his date And so fepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie, IS

In course reciprocal, and had his fate
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (Itrange to think) his wain was his increase :
His letters are deliver'd all and gonc,

Only remains his superscription.
On the University Carrier ; wwbo ficken'd in the time of
vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reason


L'ALLEGRO. HERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his

TENCE, loathed Melancholy, And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one, In Stygian cave forlorn He's here stuck in a llough, and overthrown. 'Mongit borrid shapes, and frieks, and fights 'Twas such a thifter, that if cruth were known, 5 ur holy, Death was half glad when he had got him down; Find out fome uncouth cell,

5 For he had any time this ten years full

Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous Dodg’d with 'hin, betwixt Cambridge and the wings, Bull.

And the night-saven fings; And surely death could never have prevail'd,

There under chon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; As rugged as thy locks, but lately finding him so long at home,

In dark Cimmerian defert over dwell. 19 And thinking now his journey's end was come, But come, thou Goddess fair and free, And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrofyne, in the kind office of a chamberlin

And by men, heart-easing Mirth, Show'd him his room where he must lodge that Whom lovely Venus at a birth night, 15 With two lifter Graces more

Pullid off his boots, and took away the light: To ivy.crowned Bacchus bore;
If any ask for him, it shall be said,

Or whether (as some sages fing)
Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed. The frolic wind that breathes the spring,


of the plague.

H Η'


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These delights is thou canst give,

While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

Gertly o'er th' accustom'd oak;
Sweet bird that shunn'lt the noise of folly,.
Most musical, most melancholy !

Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among,

I woo to hear thy even-Song;

And milling thee, I walk unseen

On the dry imooth-thaven green,
TENCE, vain deluding joys,

To behold the wandering moon,

Riding near her highest noon,
How little you bested,

Like one that had been led astray
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Through the Heav'n's wide pathless way,
Dwell in some idle brain,

5 And oft, as if her head the bow'd,
And sancics fond with gaudy shapes possess, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
As thick and numberlefs

Oft on a plat of rising ground. As the gay motes that people the fun-bcams, I hear the far off Curfeu sound, Or likelele hovering dreams

Over somre wide-water'd shore, The fickle penfioners of Morpheus' train. Swinging flow with fullen roar But hail, thou Goddess, fage and holy!

Or if the air will not permit, Hail, divinest Melancholy!

Some still removed place will fit, Whose faintly vifage is too bright

Where glowing embers through the room To hit the sense of human fight,

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, And therefore to our weaker view

15 Far from all resort of mirth, O'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue ;

Save the cricket on the hearth, Black, but such as in esteem

Or thc belman's drousy charn, Prince Memnon's fifter might befeem,

To bless the doors from nightly harm : Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove

Or let ny lamp at midnight hour,
To set her beauties' praise above

Be seen in some high loncly tower,
The Sca-Nymphs, and their powers offended : Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
Yet thou art higher far defcended,

With thrice great Hermes, cr unsphere
Thec bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore

The spirit of Plato to unfold To solitary Saturn bore ;

What worlds, or what valt regions, hold His daughter fe (in Saturn's reign,

25 The immortal mind that hath forfook Such mixture was not held a stain).

Her mansion in this fleshly nook : Oft in glimmering bowers and glades

And of those Demons that are found He met her, and in secret shades

In fire, air, flood, or under ground, Of woody Ida's inmost grove,


power hath a true content While yet there was no fear of Jove.

30 With planet, or wich element. Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,

Sometime let gorgeous tragedy Sober, stedfast, and demure,

In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, All in a robe of darkest grain,

Presenting Thebes', or Pelops' line, Flowing with majestic train,

Or the tale of Troy divine, And fable stole of Cyprus lawn,

35 Or what (though rare) of later age Over thy decent shoulders drawn.

Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. Come, but keep thy wonted state,

But, o fad Virgin, that thy power With even step, and musing gait,

Might raise Mufæus from his bower, And looks commercing with the kies,

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Thy rape soul fitting in thine eyes :

Such notes as, warbled to the string, There held in holy pafiion still,

Drew iron tears down Plato's cheek, Forget thyself to marble, till

And made Hell grant what love did seek. With a fad lcaden downward cast

Or call up him that left half told Thou fix them on the earth as fast :

The story of Cambuícan bold, And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, 45 Of Camball, and of Algarlife, Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doch diet,

And who had Canacé to wife, And hears the Muses in a ring

That own'd the virtuous ring and glass, Ay round about Jove's altar ling:

And of the wondrous horse of brass, And add to these retired Leisure,

On which the Tartar king did ride ; That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; So And if ought clfe great bards beside But first, and chiefeft, with thee bring,

In fage and folemn tuncs have lung, Him that yon foars on golden wing,

Of turneys and of trophies hung, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,

Of forests, and inchantments drear, 'The Cherub Contemplation;

Where more is meant than meets the ear. And the mute Silence hift along,


Thus night oft see me in thy pale career, 'Less Philomel will deign a song,

Till civil-suited moro appear, In her sweetest, faddeit plight,

Not trickt and frounct as she was wont Smoothing the rugged brow of night,

With the Attic boy to hunt,








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