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From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen Earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may

rise

To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?

He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

XXI.

TO CYRIACK SKINNER'.

CYRIACK, whose grandsire, on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc'd, and in his volumes taught, our
laws,

Which others at their bar so often wrench;
To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth that, after, no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intends, and what the
French.

To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest

way;

For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

XXII.

TO THE SAME.

CYRIACK, this three years day these eyes, though clear

To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of Sun, or Moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer

liament which began in 1653, and was active in settling the protectorate of Cromwell. In consequence of his services, he was made president of Cromwell's council; where he appears to have signed many severe and arbitrary decrees, not only against the royalists, but the Brownists, fifth-monarchy men, and other sectarists. He continued high in favour with Richard CromweH. Henry Lawrence, the virtuous son, is the author of a work entitled Of our Communion and Warre with Angels, &c. Printed Anno Dom. 1646. 4o, 189 pages. The dedication is "To my Most deare and Most honoured Mother, the lady Lawrence." He is perhaps the same Henry Lawrence, who printed A Vindication of the Scriptures and Christian Ordinances, 1649. Lond. 4°.

'Son of William Skinner, esq. and grandson of sir Vincent Skinner; and his mother was Bridget, one of the daughters of the famous sir Edward Coke, lord ehief justice of the King's Bench.

Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied

In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask

Content though blind, had I no better guide. XXIII.

ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband [faint. Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed

gave,

taint

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Then rough-hewn, and lastly rugged. All in
Milton's own hand.

SONN. xii.

Ver. 4. Of owls and buzzards.

From ver. 1. to ver. 8, as now printed.
Ver. 9. And twenty battles more.

So it was at first written, afterwards corrected to the present reading, Worcester's laureat wreath. Ver. 11, & 12, as now printed. This sonnet

Ver. 10. And hate the truth whereby they should is in a female hand, unlike that in which the 8th

be free.

All in Milton's own hand.

sonnet is written.

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Title. "To my friend Mr. Hen. Lawes, feb. 9. 1645. On the publishing of his aires."

Ver. 1. As now printed.

Ver. 2. And to advise how war may, best up

held,

Move on her two main nerves.

Ver. 3. Words with just notes, which till then So at first written, afterwards corrected to then

us'd to scan,

With Midas' eares, misjoining short
and long.

In the first of these lines "When most were wont to
scan" had also been written.

Ver. 6. And gives thee praise above the pipe of
Pan.

To after age thou shalt be writ a man,
Thou didst reform thy art the chief
among.

Thou honourst vers, &c.

Ver. 12. Fame, by the Tuscan's leav, shall set
thee higher

Than old Casell, whom Dante woo'd to
sing.

There are three copies of this sonnet; two in
Milton's hand; the third in another, a man's
hand. Milton, as Mr. Warton observes, had an
amanuensis on account of the failure of his eyes.

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and by.

Ver. 10. What power the church and what the civill means,

Thou teachest best, which few have ever done.

Afterwards thus,

Both spiritual power and civill, what

each means,

Thou hast learn'd well, a praise which few have won.

Lastly, as now printed.

Ver. 13.
thy right hand.
Afterwards altered to firm hand. And Warbur
ton has said it should have been altered further
to "firm arm."

either of the two last.
This sonnet is also in a female hand, unlike

manuscript.
SONNETS Xviii, xix, xx, do not appear in the

SONN. xxi.

The four first lines are wanting.
Ver. 8. As now printed.

In the hand of a fourth woman, as it seems,

SONN. xxi.

Ver. 3. to ver. 5, as now printed.
Ver. 7. Against God's hand
Afterwards altered to Heaven's hand.
Ver. 8.
but still attend to steer
Up hillward.
So at first written, afterwards altered to the pre-
sent reading.

Ver. 12. Of which all Europe talks from side
to side.

Ver. 13, 14. As now printed.

This sonnet is written in the same female hand as the last.

SONN. xxiii.

No variations, except in the spelling. This is in a fifth female hand; beautifully written; imitating also Milton's manner of beginning most of the lines with small initial letters; which is not the case with the other female hands.

APPENDIX TO THE SONNETS.

I.

DR. Birch, in his LIFE OF MILTON, has printed a sonnet, said to be written by Milton in 1665, when

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he retired to Chalfont in Buckinghamshire on ac-
count of the plague; and to have been seen in-
scribed on the glass of a window in that place.
I have seen a copy of it written, apparently in a
coeval hand, at the end of Tonson's edition of
Milton's Smaller Poems in 1713, where it is also
said to be Milton's. It is re-printed from Dr.
Birch's Life of the poet, in Fawkes and Woty's
Poetical Calendar, 1763, vol. viii. p. 67. But,
in this sonnet, there is a scriptural mistake;
which, as Mr. Warton has observed, Milton was
For the Sonnet impro-
not likely to commit.
perly represents David as punished by pestilence
for his adultery with Bathsheba. Mr. Warton,
however, adds, that Dr. Birch had been informed
by Vertue the engraver, that he had seen a sa-
tirical medal, struck upon Charles the Second,
abroad, without any legend, having a corres-
pondent device.-This sonnet, I should add, va-
ries from the construction of the legitimate son-
net, in consisting of only ten lines, instead of
fourteen.

Fair mirrour of foul times! whose fragile sheen,
Shall, as it blazeth, break; while Providence,
Aye watching o'er his saints with eye unseen,
Spreads the red rod of angry pestilence,
To sweep the wicked and their counsels hence;
Yea, all to break the pride of lustful kings,
Who Heaven's lore reject for brutish sense;
As erst he scourg'd Jessides' sin of yore,
For the fair Hittite, when, on seraph's wings,
He sent him war, or plague, or famine sore.

II.

In the concluding note on the seventh Sonnet,

it has been observed that other Italian sonnets and compositions of Milton, said to be remaining in manuscript at Florence, had been sought for in vain by Mr. Hollis. I think it may not be improper here to observe, that there is a tradition of Milton having fallen in love with a young lady, when he was at Florence; and, as she understood no English, of having written some verses to her in Italian, of which the poem, subjoined to this remark, is said to be the sense. It has often been printed; as in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1760, p. 148; in Fawkes and Woty's Poetical Calendar, 1763, vol. viii. p. 68; in the Annual Register for 1772, p. 219; and in the third volume of Milton's poems in the Edition of the Poets, 1779. But to the original no reference is given, and even of the translator no mention is made, in any of those volumes. The poem is entitled, A fragment of Milton, from the Italian.

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Then, laughing, they repeat my languid lays→→ "Nymphs of thy native clime, perhaps,"

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CHRIST'S NATIVITY ›.

Turs is the month, and this the happy mort,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's 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.

That glorious form, that light unsufferable, ·
And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, [table
Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-
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 darksome house of mortal
clay.

Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant-God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
To welcome him to this his new abode,
Now while the Heaven, by the Sun's team untrod,
Hath took no print of the approaching light,
And all the spangled host keep watch in squa-
drons bright?

See, how from far, upon the eastern road,
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 join thy voice unto the angel-quire,
From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd
fire.

THE HYMN.

Ir was the winter wild,
While the Heaven-born child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature in awe to him,

Had doff'd her gaudy trim,

With her great Master so to sympathize:

'This ode, in which the many learned allusions are highly poetical, was probably composed as a college-exercise at Cambridge, our author being now only twenty-one years old. In the edition of 1645, in its title it is said to have been written in 1629.

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The stars, with deep amaze,

Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence;

And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;

But in their glimmering orbs did glow,

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And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow; And, with your ninefold harmony,

Make up full consort to the angelic symphoy.

Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them For, if such holy song

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The babe yet lies in smiling infancy,

That on the bitter cross

Must redeem our loss;

So both himself and us to glorify:

Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,

His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring

They call the grisly king,

In dismal dance about the furnace blue : The brutish gods of Nile as fast,

The wakeful trump of doom must thunder Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.

through the deep;

With such a horrid clang

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Shall from the surface to the centre shake; When, at the world's last session,

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 ;

Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark

The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.

throne.

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So, when the Sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,

Pillows his chin upon an orient ware,
The flocking shadows pale

Troop to the infernal jail,

Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted Fayes

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moonlov'd maze.

But see, the Virgin blest

Hath laid her babe to rest;

Time is, our tedious song should here have ending:

Heaven's youngest-teemed star
Hath fix'd her polish'd car,

Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp at And all about the courtly stable [tending: Bright-harness'd angels sit in ord er serviceable.

THE PASSION3.

EREWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth,

Wherewith the stage of air and Earth did ring,
And joyous news of Heavenly Infant's birth,
My Muse with angels did divide to sing;
But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In wintery solstice like the shorten'd light,
Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living
night.

For now to sorrow must I tune my song,
And set my harp to notes of saddest woe,
Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long,[so,
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than
Which he for us did freely undergo:

* This Ode was probably composed soon after that on the Nativity. And this perhaps was a college exercise at Easter, as the last was at Christmas. WARTON.

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