XV.

ARCADE S.

Part of an Entertainment prefented to the Countess Dowager of Derby at Harefield, by fome noble Perfons of her family, who appear on the scene in paftoral habit, moving toward the feat of ftate, with this fong *.

L

1. SONG.

OOK Nymphs, and Shepherds, look,
What fudden blaze of majesty

Is that which we from hence defcry,
Too divine to be miftook :
This, this is the

And while I feel by faft degrees

My fluggard blood wax chill and freeze,
Let thought unveil to my fix'd eye
A fcene of deep eternity,

Till life diffolving at the view,

I wake and find the vifion true.

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This poem is only part of an Entertainment, or Mask, the reft probably being of a different nature, or compofed by a different hand. The Countess Dowager of Derby, to whom it was prefented, muft have been Alice, daughter of Sir John Spenfer of Althorp, Northamptonshire, and widow of Ferdinando Stanley the fifth Earl of Derby, And as Harefield is in Middlefex, and, according to Camden, lieth a little to the north of Uxbridge, we may conclude, that Milton made this poem while he refided in that neighbourhood with his father at Horton near Colebrooke. It should seem too, that it was made before the Mask at Ludlow, as it is a more imperfect essay. And Frances the second daughter of this Countefs-dowager of Derby being married to John Earl of Bridgewater, before whom was prefented the Mask at Ludlow, we may conceive in fome measure how Milton was induced to compofe the one after the other. The alliance between the families naturally and eafily accounts for it: and in all probability, the Genius of the wood in this poem, as well as the attendant fpirit in the Mask, was Mr. Henry Lawes, who was the great mafter of mufic at that time, and taught most of the young nobility.

To whom our vows and wishes bend;
Here our folemn search hath end.

Fame, that her high worth to raise,
Seem'd erft fo lavish and profuse,
We may justly now accufe
Of detraction from her praife;
Less than half we find expreft,
Envy bid conceal the reft.

Mark what radiant ftate fhe spreads,
In circle round her thining throne,
Shooting her beams like filver threads;
This, this is fhe alone,

Sitting like a Goddefs bright,
In the centre of her light.

Might fhe the wife Latona be,

Or the towred Cybele,

Mother of a hundred Gods;

Juno dares not give her odds;

Who had thought this clime had held
A deity fo unparallel'd?

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As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and turning toward them, fpeaks.

ST

GENIUS.

TAY gentle Swains, for though in this disguise,
I fee bright honor sparkle through your eyes;

Of famous Arcady ye are, and fprung
Of that renowned flood, fo often fung,
Divine Alpheus, who by fecret fluce
Stole under feas to meet his Arethufe;

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And ye, the breathing rofes of the wood,
Fair filver bufkin'd Nymphs as great and good,
I know this quest of yours, and free intent
Was all in honor and devotion meant
To the great miftrefs of yon' princely fhrine,
Whom with low reverence I adore as mine,
And with all helpful fervice will comply
To further this night's glad folemnity;

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And lead ye where ye may more near behold

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What shallow-searching Fame hath left untold;
Which I full oft amidst these fhades alone
Have fat to wonder at, and gaze upon :
For know by lot from Jove I am the Power
Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower,
To nurfe the faplings tall, and curl the grove
With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
And all my plants I fave from nightly ill
Of noisome winds, and blafting vapors chill:
And from the boughs brush off the evil dew,
And heal the arms of thwarting thunder blue,
Or what the crofs dire-looking planet fmites,
Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites.
When evening gray doth rife, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground,
And early ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the flumb'ring leaves, or taffel'd horn,
Shakes the high thicket, hafte I all about
Number my ranks, and vifit every sprout

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But elfe in deep of night, when drowsiness
Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then liften I
To the celeftial Sirens harmony,

With puiffant words, and murmurs made to blefs;

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That fit upon the nine infolded spheres,
And fing to those that hold the vital fhears,

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And turn the adamantin fpindle round,

On which the fate of Gods and men is wound.
Such fweet compulfion doth in mufic lie,
To lull the daughters of Neceffity,

And keep unfteady nature to her law,
And the low world in measur'd motion draw
After the heav'nly tune, which none can hear
Of human mold with grofs unpurged ear :
And yet fuch mufic worthieft were to blaze
'The peerless highth of her immortal praise,
Whofe luftre leads us, and for her moft fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable founds, yet as we go,
Whate'er the skill of leffer Gods can fhow,
I will affay, her worth to celebrate,
And fo attend ye toward her glittering state;
Where ye may all that are of noble stem
Approach, and kifs her facred vefture's hem.

II. SONG.

'ER the smooth enamell'd green,
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I fing,

And touch the warbled ftring,

Under the fhady roof

Of branching elm star-proof.

All Arcadia hath not feen.

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III. SON G.

Nymphs and Shepherds dance no more

By fandy Ladon's lilied banks, On old Lycæus or Cyllene hoar

Trip no more in twilight ranks, Though Erymanth your lofs deplore,

A better foil fhall give ye thanks.

From the ftony Mænalus

Bring your flocks and live with us,
Here ye fhall have greater grace,
To ferve the Lady of this place.
Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not feen.

ICO

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