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171

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the

waves,

Where other

groves and other streams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpreffive nuptial song,

In the bleft kingdoms meek of joy and love.

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175

There

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There entertain him all the Saints above,
In folemn troops, and fweet focieties,

That fing, and finging in their glory move,

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the fhepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompenfe, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Nor th' infuppreffive mettle of our fpirits.

I have feveral times had the pleafure of making the fame remarks and obfervations as Mr. Thyer, and here we had both mark'd thefe inftances from Shakespear.

177. In the bleft kingdoms meek of joy and love.] That is in the bleft kingdoms of meek joy and love; a tranfpofition of the adjective, which we meet with alfo in the Paradife Loft, IX. 318.

180

185

Thus

183. Henceforth thou art the ge

nius of the fore,] This is faid in allufion to the ftory of Melicerta or Palæmon, who with his mother Ino was drown'd, and became a fea-deity propitious to mariners. Ovid, Met. IV. Faft. VI. Virgil Georg. I. 436.

Votaque fervati folvent in littore

nautæ

Glauco, et Panopeæ, & Inoo Melicertæ.

And as Mr. Jortin obferves, it is pleasant to fee how the most antipapistical poets are inclined to ca

So fpake domeftic Adam in his nonize and then to invoke their

care,

in which verfe domeftic is without doubt to be join'd to care, and not to Adam as the common opinion is. So also in the fame book, ver.

225.1

and th' hour of supper comes anearn'd. Thyer.

friends as faints. See the poem on the fair Infant. St. 10.

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Thus fang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills,
While the ftill morn went out with fandals gray,
He touch❜d the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:
And now the fun had stretch'd out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:
To morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

Majorefque cadunt altis de montibus umbra.

189. With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:] He calls it Doric lay, because it imitates Theocritus and other paftoral poets, tion of a rural evening, but I Virgil's is an admirable defcripwho wrote in the Deric dialect. know not whether Milton's is not Tho' Milton calls himself as yet better, as it represents the fun fetuncouth, he warbles with eager

thought his Doric lay; earneft of ting fo by degrees,
the poet he was to be, at leaft;
as he promises in the motto to these
juvenile poems of edit. 1645.

And now the fun had ftretch'd

baccare frontem

out all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay:

Cingite, ne vati noceat mala lin- though it must be faid that the

gua futuro.

This looks very modeft, but fee what he infinuates. The firft part of Virgil's verfe is,

Aut fi ultra placitum laudarit, baccare frontem &c. Richardfon.

190. And now the fun had ftretch'd out all the hills,] He had no doubt Virgil in his eye. Ecl. I. 83.

Et jam fumma procul villarum culmina fumant,

image of the fmoke afcending from the village-chimnies, which Milton has omitted, is very natural and beautiful.

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and eager on new works: but I rather believe that it was faid in allufion to his travels into Italy, which he was now meditating, and on which he fet out the fpring following. I will conclude my remarks upon this poem with the juft obfervation of Mr. Thyer. The particular beauties of this charming paftoral are too ftriking to need much defcanting upon;

but what gives the greatest grace to the whole is that natural and agreeable wildnefs and irregularity which runs quite through it, than which nothing could be better fuited to exprefs the warm affection which Milton had for his friend, and the extreme grief he was in for the lofs of him. Grief is eloquent, but not formal.

VOL. II.

P

The

XVIII,

The Fifth ODE of Horace, Lib. I.

Quis multa gracilis te puer in rofa, rendred almoft word for word without rime, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.

WHE

HAT flender youth bedew'd with liquid odors Courts thee on rofes in fome pleafant cave, Pyrrha? for whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,

Plain in thy neatnefs? O how oft fhall he

On faith and changed Gods complain, and feas
Rough with black winds and ftorms

Unwonted fhall admire!

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,

Who always vacant always amiable

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they

5

10

To whom thou untry'd feem'ft fair. Me in my vow'd

Picture the facred wall declares t' have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the ftern God of fea.

15

Ad

This Ode was firft added in the second edition of the author's poems

in 1673.

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