« AnteriorContinuar »
present, altered from garish columbine; and sud embroidery, an alteration of sad escocheon, instead of sorrow's liverie. Ver. 153. Letour sad thought, &c. Ver. 154. Ay mee, whilst thee the floods and sounding seas. Ver. 160. Sleep'st by the fable of Corineus old. But Bellerus is a correction.” Wer. 176. Listening the unexpressive nuptial song.
Hence, loathed Melancholy,
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
Hence, vain deluding Joys,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,
As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams; Or likest hovering dreams, – The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended: Yet thou art higher far descended: Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore, To solitary Saturn bore; His daughter she, in Saturn's reign, Such mixture was not held a stain: Oft in glimmering bowers and glades He mether, and in secret shades of woody Ida's inmost grove, Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, Sober, stedfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train,
And sable stole of Cyprus lawn, . Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step, and musing gait; And looks commércing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast: And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing: And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure: But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The cherub Contemplation; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Less Philomel will deign a song, In her sweetest saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragonyoke, Gently o'er the accustom'd oak: Sweetbird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chantress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song; And, missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering Moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the Heaven's wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bow'd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off Curfeu sound, Over some wide-water'd shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar: Or, if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through theroom Teach light to counterfeit a gloom; Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the belman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm. Or let my lamp at midnight hour, Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere . The spirit of Plato, to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind, that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook: And of those demons that are found In fire, air, flood, or underground, Whose power hath a true consent With planet, or with element. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower
Orbid the soul of Orpheus sing such notes, as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek! or call up him that left half-told The story of Cambuscan bold, of Camball, and of Algarsife, and who had Canace to wife, Thatown'd the virtuous ring and glass; And of the wonderous horse of brasson which the Tartar king did ride: And if aught else great bards beside in sage and solemn tunes have sung, of turneys, and of trophies hung, of forests, and enchantments drear, where more is meant than meets the ear. Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, Till civil-suited Morm appear, Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt, Butkercheft in a comely cloud, while rocking winds are piping loud, Or usher'd with a shower still, when the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And, when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring Toarched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, of pine, or monumental oak, where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, or fright them from their hallow'd haoy. There in close covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring, With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy feather'd Sleep; And let some strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in aery stream Of lively portraiture display'd, Softly on my eye-lids laid. And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by some spirit to mortal good, Or the unseen genius of the wood. Butlet my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloysters pale, And love the high-embowed roof, With antic pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light; There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voic’d quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that Heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew; Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
these pleasures, Melancholy, give, And I with thee will choose to live.
[UNQuestionably this mask was a much longer performance. Milton seems only to have written the poetical part, consisting of these three songs and the recitative soliloquy of the Genius. The rest was probably prose and machinery. In many of Jonson's masques, the poet but rarely appears, amidst a cumbersome exhibition of heathen gods and mythology.
Alice, countess dowager of Derby, married Ferdinando lord Strange; who on the death of his father Henry, in 1594, became earl of Derby, but died the next year. She was the sixth daughter of sir John Spenser of Althorpe in Northamptonshire. She was afterwards married (in 1600) to lord chancellor Egerton, who died in 1617. She died Jan. 26, 1635-6, and was buried at Harefield.]
Of famous Arcardy ye are, and sprung
O'er the smooth enamell'd green Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing . And touch the warbled string, Under the shady roof Qf branching elm star-proof.
Now seems guiltie of abuse And detraction from her praise, Lesse than halfe she hath exprest: Envie bid her hide the rest. Here her hide is erased, and conceale writtenoverit. Ver. 18. Seated like a goddess bright. But sealed is also expunged, and sitting supplied. Ver. 23. Ceres dares not give her odds: Who trould hate thought, &c. Both these readings are erased, and Juno and had, as the printed copies now read, are written over them. Ver. 41. Those virtues which dull Fame, &c. This likewise is expunged, and What shallow is substituted. Ver. 44. For know, by lot from Jove I hurt the power. Here again the pen is drawn through hate, and am is written over it. Ver. 47. In ringlets quaint. But With is placed over In expunged. Ver. 49. Of noisome winds, or blasting va. pours chill. Ver. 50. And from the leaves brush off, &c. So it was at first. But the pen is drawn through leaves, and bowes supplied. Ver. 52. Or what the crosse, &c. It was at first And, as in the printed copies; but that is erased, and Or substituted. Ver. 59. And number every sprout. . Here And and all are expunged with the pet, and visit, as in the printed copies, completes the line. Ver. 62. Hath chain’d nortalitie. This also is erased, and lockt up mortal sense writ: ten over it. Ver. 81. Ver 91
And so attend you toward &c. I will bring ye where she sits.
all my ranks, and
Presented At Ludlow castle, 1634, before
* To the right honourable * John lord viscount BRAcly son and heir apparent to the earl of BRIDGEwArea, &c. My Lord,
This poem, which received its first occasion of birth from yourself and others of your noble family, and much honour from your own person in the performance, now returns again to make a final dedication of itself to you. . Although not openly acknowledged by the authors, yet it is a legitimate off-spring, so lovely, and so much desired, that the often copying of it hath tired my pen to give my severall friends satisfaction, and brought me to a necessity of producing it to the publike view; and now to offer it up in all rightful devotion to those fair hopes, and rare endowments of your much promising youth, which give a full assurance to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live, sweet lord, to be the honour of your name, and receive this as your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favours been long obliged to your most honoured parents, and as in this representation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall expression Your faithfull and most humble servant, - H. LAWES4.
* This is the dedication to Lawes's edition of the Mask, 1637, to which the following motto was prefixed, from Virgil's seco id Eclogue, Eheu ! quid volui misero mihi / floribus austrum Perditus— This motto is omitted by Milton himself in the editions of 1645, and 1673. IVARTON. * The First Brother in the Mask. WARTON. * It never appeared under Milton's name, till the year 1645. WARTON. * This dedication does not appear in the edition of Milton's Poems, printed under his own inspection, 1673, when lord Brackley, under the title of earl Bridgwater, was still living. Milton was perhaps unwilling to own his early connections with a family, conspicuous for its unshaken loyalty, and now highly patronised by king Charles the Second. WARTON. * April, 1638.] Milton had communicated to sir Henry his design of seeing foreign countries, and had sent him his Mask. He set out on bis travels soon after the receipt of this letter. TODD.
stowed upon me here the first taste of your ac-
* Mr. H.] Mr. Warton in his first edition of Comus says, that Mr. H. was “perhaps Milton's friend, Samuel Hartlib, whom I have seen mentioned in some of the pamphlets of this period, as well acquainted with sir Henry Wotton " but this is omitted in his second edition. M!!. Warton perhaps doubted his conjecture of the person. I venture to state from a copy of the Reliquide Wottoniana in my possession, in which a few notes are written (probably soon after the publication of the book, 3d edit. in 1672) that the person intended was the “ever-memorable” John Hales. This information will be supported. by the readel's recollecting sir llenry's intimacy with Mr. Hales; of whom sir Henry says, in one of his letters, that he gave to his learned friend the title of Bibliotheca ambulans, the walking Library. See Reliq. Wotton. 3d edit. p. 475, TODD. 1 Mr. R.] Ibelieve “Mr. R.” to be John Rouse, Bodley's librarian. “The late R.” is unques: tionably Thomas Randolph, the poet. WARTON. * Mr. M. B.] Mr. Michael Branthwait, as I suppose; of whom sir Henry thus speaks in one of his Letters, Reliq-. Wotton. 3d edit, p. 546, “Mr. Michael Branthwait, heretofore his majestie's agent in Venice, a gentleman of approved considence and s.ucerity.” TQDD.