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present, altered from garish columbine ; and sud i Oft listening how the hounds and horn embroidery, an alteration of sad escocheon, in Cheerly rouse the slumbering Morn, stead of sorrow's liverie.
From the side of some hoar hill, Ver. 153. Let our sad thought, &c.
Through the high wood echoing shrill : Ver. 154. Ay mee, wbilst thee the floods and Some time walking, not unseen, sounding seas.
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Where the great Sun begins his state,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
And the mower whets his sithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under, the hawthorn in the dale. Hence, loathed Melancholy,
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, Whilst the landscape round it measures; In Stygian cave forlorn,
Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights Where the nibbling flocks do stray; unboly!
Mountains, on whose barren breast, Find out some uncouth cell,
The labouring clouds do often rest; Where brooding Darkness sads his jealous Meadows trim with daisies pide, wings,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide: And the night-raven sings ;
Towers and battlements it sees There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd Bosom'd high in tufted trees, As ragged as thy locks,
Where perhaps some beauty lies, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes. But come, thou goddess fair and free, Hard by, a cottage chimney smoaks, In Heaven yclep'd Euphrosyne,
From betwixt two aged oaks, And by men, heart-easing Mirth;
Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,
Are at their savoury dinner set With two sister Graces more,
Cf herbs, and other country messes, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore:
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; Or whether (as some sager sing)
And then in haste her bower she leaves, The frulic wind, that breathes the spring, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Zephyr, with Aurora playing,
Or, if the earlier season lead, As he met her once a-maying ;
To the tann'd haycock in the mead. There on beds of violets blue,
Sometimes with secure delight And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
The upland hamlets will invite, Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
On a sun-shine holy-day, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
Till the live-long day-light fail : And love to live in dimple sleek;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
With stories told of many a feat, And Laughter holding both his sides,
How faery Mab the junkets eat; Come, and tripit, as you go,
She was pinch'd, and pull’d, she sed; On the light fantastic toe;
And he, by friars lantern led, And in thy right hand lead with thee
Tells how the drudging goblin swet, The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;
To earn his creain-bowl duly set, And, if I give thee honour due,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, Mirth, adinit me of thy crew,
His shadowy fail hath thresh'd the corn, To live with her, and live with thee,
That ten day-labourers could not end; In unreproved pleasures free;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend, To hear the lark begin his fight,
And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, And singing startle the dull Night,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength; From his watch-tower in the skies,
And crop-full out of doors he flings, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise;
Ere the first cock his matin rings. Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, And at my window bid good morrow,
By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep. Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Tower'd cities please us then, Or the twisted eglantine :
And the busy hum of men, While the cock, with lively din,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold, Scatters the rear of Darkness thin.
In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, And to the stack, or the barn-door,
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Stoutly struts his dames before :
Rain infuence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
And sable stole of Cyprus lawy, To win her grace, whom all commend.
Over thy decent shoulders drawn There le: Hymen oft appear
Come, but keep thy wonted state, In saffron robe, with taper clear,
With even step, and musing gait; And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
And looks commércing with the skies, With mask, and antique pageantry ;
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : Such sights as youthful poets dream
There, held in holy passion still, On summer eves by haunted stream.
Forget thyself to marble, till Then to the well-trod stage anon,
With a sad leaden downward east If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Thou fix them on the earth as fast: Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And ever, against eating cares,
And hears the Muses in a ring Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Aye round about Jove's altar sing: Married to immortal verse;
And add to these retired Leisure, Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure: lu notes, with many a winding bout
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
Him that yon soars on golden wing, With wanton heed and giddy cunning;
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The melting voice through mazes running, The cherub Contemplation; Untwisting all the chains that tie
And the mute Silence hist along, The hidden soul of harmony;
'Less Philomel will deign a song, That Orpheus' self may heave his head
In her sweetest saddest plight, From golden slumber on a bed
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, Such strains as would have won the ear
Gently o'er the accustom'd oak: Of Pluto, to bave quite set free
Sweet bird, that shann'st the noise of folly, His half-regain'd Eurydice.
Most musical, most melancholy ! These delights if thou canst give,
Thee, chantress, oft, the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy even-song ;
To behold the wandering Moon,
Riding near her highest noon,
Through the Heaven's wide pathless way;
And oft, as if her head she bow'd, The brood of Folly without father bred !
Stooping through a fleecy cloud. How little you bested,
Oft, on a plat of rising ground, Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!
I hear the far-off Curfeu sound, Dwell in some idle brain,
Over some wide-water'd shore, And fancies fund with gaudy shapes possess,
Swinging slow with sullen roar: As thick and numberless
Or, if the air will not permit, As the gay motes that people the sun-beams;
Some still removed place will fit, Or likest hovering dreams,
Where glowing embers through ther oon micheThe fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom; But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy,
Far from all resort of mirth, Hail, divinest Melancholy !
Save the cricket on the hearth. Whose saintly visage is too bright
Or the belman's drowsy cbarm, To hit i he sense of human sight,
To bless the doors from nightly harm. And therefore to our weaker view
Or let my lamp at midnight hour, O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue;
Be seen in some high lonely tower, Black, but such as in esteem
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,
With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere . Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove
The spirit of Plato, to unfold To set ber beauty's praise above
What worlds or what vast regions hold The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended :
The immortal mind, that hath forsook Yet thou art higher far descended:
Her mansion in this fleshly nook : Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore,
And of those demons that are found To solitary Saturn bore;
In fire, air, food, or under ground, His daughter she; in Saturn's reign,
Whose power hath a true consent Such mixture was not held a stain:
With planet, or with element. Oft in gliinmering bowers and glades
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy lie met her, and in secret shades
In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, Of woody. Ida's inmost grove,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove.
Or the tale of Truy divine; (come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Or what (though rare) of later age Sober, stedfast, and demure,
Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. All in a robe of darkest grain,
But, O sad virgin, that thy power Flowing with majestic train,
| Might raise Musæus from his bower!
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.
PART OF A MASK,
Entertainment presented to the countess On which the Tartar king did ride:
Dowager of Derby at Harefield, by some And if aught else great bards beside
noble persons of her family ; who appear on In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
the scene in pastoral habit, moving toward Of turneys, and of trophies hung,
the seat of state, with this song. Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.
[UNQUESTIONABLY this mask was a much longer Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, performance. Milton seems only to have writTill civil-suited Morn appear,
ten the poetical part, consisting of these Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont
three songs and the recitative soliloquy of the With the Attic boy to hunt,
Genius. The rest was probably prose and maBut kercheft in a comely cloud,
chinery. In many of Jonson's masques, the While rocking winds are piping loud,
poet but rarely appears, amidst a cumbersome Or usher'd with a shower still,
exhibition of heathen gods and mythology. When the gust hath blown his fill,
Alice, countess dowager of Derby, married Ending on the russling leaves,
Ferdinando lord Strange; who on the death of With minute drops from off the eaves.
his father Henry, in 1594, became earl of Derly, And, when the Sun begins to Aling
but died the next year. She was the sixth daugh-, His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring
ter of sir John Spenser of Althorpe in NorthampTo arched walks of twilight groves,
tonshire. She was afterwards married (in 1600) And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,
to lord chancellor Egerton, who died in 1617. of pine, or monumental oak,
She died Jan. 26, 1635-6, and was buried at Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke,
Look, nymphs, and shepherds, look,
What sudden blaze of majesty,
Is that which we from hence descry,
Too divine to be mistook :
This, this is she
| To whom our vows and wishes bend; Entice the dewy feather'd Sleep;
Here our solemn search bath end. And let some strange mysterious dream
Fame, that, her high worth to raise, Wave at his wings in aery stream
Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse, Of liely portraiture display'd,
We may justly now accuse Softly on my eye-lids laid.
Of detraction from her praise ; And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Less than half we find exprest,
Envy bid conceal the rest.
Mark, what radiant state she spreads, . But let my due feet never fail
In circle round her shining throne,
Shooting her beams like silver threads;
This, this is she alone,
Sitting like a goddess bright,
In the centre of her light.
Might she the wise Latopa be,
2) To the full-voic'd quire below,
Or the tower'd Cybele In service high and anthems clear,
Mother of a hundred gods As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Juno dares not give her odds : Dissolve me into ecstasies,
Who had thought this clime had held
A deity so unparallel'd? .
As they come forward the Genius of the wood anThe hairy gown and mossy cell,
pears, and turning towards them speaks. Where I may sit and rightly spell
Stay, gentle swains ; for, though in this Till old experience do attain
disguise, To something like prophetic strain.
I see bright hunour sparkle through your eyes ;
Of famous Arcardy ye are, and sprung
I will bring you where she sits;
Such a rural queen
Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more
By sandy Ladon's lilied banks ; To further this night's glad solemnity;
On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar, And lead ye, where ye may more near behold 40
Trip no more in twilight ranks; What shallot-searching Fame hath left untold ;
Though Erymanth your loss deplore,' 100 Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone,
A better soil shall give ye thanks. Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon:
From the stony Mænalus . For know, by lot from Jove I am the power
Bring your flocks, and live with us; Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower,
Here ye shall have greater grace, To nurse the sapplings tall, and curl the grove
To serve the lady of this place. With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, And all my plants I save from nightly ill
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her, Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill:
Such a rural queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
Original VARIOUS READINGS OP ARCADES. Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground;
From Milton's MS, in his own hand.
And detraction from her praise, Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
Lesse than halfe she hath exprest : With puissant words, and murmurs made to
Envie bid her hide the rest. bless.
Here her hide is erased, and conceale written oferiti But else in deep of night, when drowsiness 61
Ver. 18. Seated like a goddess bright. Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I
But sealed is also expunged, and sitting supplied. To the celestial Syrens' harmony,
Ver. 23. Ceres dares not give her odds : That sit upon the nine infolded spheres,
Who would have thought, &c. And sing to those that hold the vital shears, Both these readings are erased, and Juno and And turn the adamantine spindle round,
had, as the printed copies now read, are written On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
over them. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, a Ver. 41. Those virtues which dull Fame, &c. To lull the daughters of Necessity,
This likewise is expunged, and What shallow is And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 70
substituted. And the low world in measur'd motion draw
Ver. 44. For know, by lot from Jore I have After the heavenly tune, which none can hear, the power. Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear;
Here again the pen is drawn through hate, and And yet such music worthiest were to blaze
am is written over it. The peerless height of her immortal praise,
Ver. 47. In ringlets quaint. Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, But Wilh is placed over In expunged. If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Ver. 49. of noisome winds, or blasting ta. Inimitable sounds : yet, as we go,
pours chill. Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can show,
Ver. 50. And from the leaves brash off, &c. I will'assay, her worth to celebrate,
80 So it was at first. But the pen is drawn througti And so attend ye toward her glittering state; | leaves, and bowes supplied. Where ye may all, that are of noble stem,
Ver. 52. Or what the crosse, &c. Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. It was at first And, as in the printed copies;
but that is erased, and Or substituted.
Ver. 59. And number all my ranks, and II, SONG,
Here And and all are expunged with the peni, O'er the smooth enamell'd green
and visit, as in the printed copies, completes the Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing
Ver. 62. Hath chain'd mortalitie. . And touch the warbled string,
This also is erased, and lockt op mortal sense WritUnder the shady roof
ten over it. Of branching elm star-proof.
Ver. 81. And so attend you toward &c.
stowed upon me here the Arst taste of your acCOMUS
quaintance, though no longer then to make me
know that I wanted more time to value it, and A MASK,
to enjoy it rightly ; and in truth, if I could then
have imagined your farther stay in these parts, PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE, 1634, BEFORE
which I understood afterwards by Mr. H., I JOHN EARL OF BRIDGEWATER, THEN PRESI
would have been bold, in our vulgar phrase, DENT of Wales.
to mend my draught (for you left me with an ex1 To the right honourable
treme thirst) and to have begged your conver2 Joux lord viscount BRACLY son and heir ap sation again, joyntly with your said learned
parent to the earl of BRIDGEWATER, &c. friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might have MY LORD,
banded together som good authors of the an
cient time: among which, I observed you to This poem, which received its first occasion of
ich received its first occasion of hare been familiar. birth from yourself and others of your noble Since your going, you have charged me with family, and much honour from your own person new obligations, both for a very kinde letter from in the performance, now returns again to make
you dated the sixth of this month, and for a a final dedication of itself to you. Although not dainty pecce of entertainment which came ther.. openly acknowledged by the author), yet it with. Wherin I should much commend the is a legitimate off-spring, so lovely, and so much tragical part, if the lyrical did not ravish me desired, that the often copying of it hath tired
with a certain Dorique delicacy in your songs my pen to give my severall friends satisfaction,
and odes; whereunto I must plainly confess to and brought me to a necessity of producing it to have seen vet nothing parallel in our language : the publike view; and now to offer it up in all ipsa mollities. But I must not omit to tell you rightful devotion to those fair hopes, and rare that I now onely owe you thanks for intimating endowments of your much promising youth, unto me (how modestly soever) the true artificer. which give a full assurance to all that know you, For the work itself I had viewed som good while of a future excellence. Live, sweet lord, to be before with singular deligat, heving received it the honour of your name, and receive this from our common friend Mr. R.? in the very as your own, from the hands of him, who hath close of the late R.s Poems, printed at Oxford, by many favours been long obliged to your whereunto it is added (as I now suppose) that the inost honoured parents, and as in this represen accessary might help out the principal, according tation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall to the art of stationers, and to leave the reader expression
con la bocca dolce. Your faithfull and most humble servant,
Now, sir, concerning your travels wheria I H. LAWES4.
may chalenge a little more privilege of discours
with you; I suppose you will not blanch Paris The copy of a Letter written by sir Henry in your way; therefore I have been bord to troue Wootton, to the Author, upon the following ble you with a few lines to Mr. M. B.8 whom Poem.
you shall easily find attending the young lord From the Colledge, this 13 of April, 16385.
o Mr. H.] Mr. Warton in his first edition of SIR,
Comus says, that Mr. H. was “ perhaps Milton's It was a special favour, when you lately be friend, Samuel Hartlih, whom I have seen men
tioned in some of the pamphlets of this period, 1 This is the dedication to Lawes's edition of as well acquainted with sir Henry Wotton ? the Mask, 1637, to which the following motto but this is omitted in his second edition. Ur. was prefixed, from Virgil's secu id Eclogue, | Warton perhaps doubted his conjecture of the
Eheu! quiel volui misero mihi ! floribus person. I venture to state from a copy of the austrum
Reliquiæ Wotlonianæ in my possession, in which Perditus
a few notes are written (probably soon after the This motto is omitted by Milton himself in the publication of the book, sd edit. in 1672) that editions of 1645, and 1673. WARTON. the person intended was the “ ever-memorable"
a The First Brother in the Mask. WARTON. John Hales. This information will be supported
3 It never appeared under Milton's name, till by the reader's recollecting sir llenry's intimacy the year 1645. WARTON.
| with Mr. Hales; of whom sir Henry says, in * This dedication does not appear in the edi- one of his letters, that he gave to his bearned tion of Milton's Poems, printed under his own friend the title of Bibliotheca ambulans, the walkinspection, 1673, when lord Brackley, under the ing Library. See Relig. Wotton. 3d edit. p. 475, title of earl Bridgwater, was still living. Milton
TODD. was perhaps unwilling to own his early connec 11 Mr. R.] Ibelieve “Mr. R.” to be John Rouse, tions with a family, conspicuous for its unshaken Bodley's librarian. “The late R.” is unques. loyalty, and now highly patronised by king tionably Thomas Randolph, the poet. WAKTON. Charles the Second. WARTON,
8 Mr. M. B.] Mr. Michael Branthwait, as I 5 April, 1638.] Milton had communicated to suppose; of whom sir Henry thus speaks ju one sir Henry his design of seeing foreign countries, of his Letters, Relig. Wotton. 2d edit, p. 546, and had sent him his Mask. He set out on “Mr. Michael Branthwait, hereto.ore bois maDis travels soon after the receipt of this letter. jestie's agent in Venice, a gentleman of ap.
TODD. proved confidence and siuceriiy."