Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprovèd 458 pleasures free,
To hear the lark begin his flight
And, singing, startle the dull 459 night
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled 460 dawn doth rise,
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine,
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,461
And to the stack 462 or the barn door
Stoutly 463 fierce struts his dames before.464
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn
From the side of some hoar 465 hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill.
Sometime walking not unseen 466
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate
Where the great 467 sun begins his state,468
Robed in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries 469 dight,470
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o’er the furrowed land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets 471 his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight, mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the landscape round it measures,472
Russet 473 lawns, and fallows474 gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The laboring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,475
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements 476 it sees,
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty 477 lies,478
The cynosure 479 of neighboring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two agèd oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis,480 met,
Are at their savory dinner set
Of herbs 481 and other country messes,482
Which the neat-handed 483 Phyllis dresses.484
And then in haste her bow’r 485 she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind 486 the sheaves,487
Or if the earlier season488 lead 489
To the tanned 490 haycock 491 in the mead,492
Sometimes with secure 493 delight
The upland 494 hamlets 495 will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund 496 rebecks497 sound
To many a youth and many a maid,
Dancing in the checkered shade,
And young and old come forth to play
On a sunshine holiday,
Till the livelong daylight fail.
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab498 the junkets 499 eat.
She was pinched and pulled, she said,
And he, by friar’s lantern led,
Tells how the drudging goblin sweat
To earn his cream-bowl, duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail 500 hath threshed the corn 501
That ten day-laborers could not end,
Then lies him down (the lubber fend!)502
And, stretched out all the chimney’s length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
And, crop-full,503 out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin504 rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.
Tow’red cities please us, then,
And the busy hum of men,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds 505 of peace high triumphs506 hold,
With store 507 of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen508 oft appear
In saffron509 robe, with taper 510 clear,
And pomp,511 and feast, and revelry,
With masque and antique pageantry,
Such sights as youthful poets dream
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson’s 512 learnèd sock be on,513
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy’s 514 child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever, against eating 515 cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,516
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting 517 soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout 518
Of linkèd sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton 519 heed 520 and giddy 521 cunning,522
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony,
That Orpheus 523 self may heave524 his head
From golden slumber on a bed
Of heaped Elysian 525 flowers, and hear
Such strains526 as would have won the ear
Of Pluto,527 to have quite set free
His half-regained Eurydice.528
These delights if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.529
IL PENSEROSO530
1631?
Hence, vain deluding joys,
The brood of folly without father bred!
How little you bestead,531
Or fill the fixèd532 mind with all your toys! 533
Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond534 with gaudy535 shapes possess
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes536 that people the sun beams,
Or likest hovering dreams,
The fickle pensioners 537 of Morpheus 538 train.
But hail thou, goddess, sage and holy,
Hail divinest Melancholy,
Whose saintly visage is too bright
To hit 539 the sense of human sight
And, therefore, to our weaker view
O’er laid with black, staid wisdom’s hue—
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon’s 540 sister might beseem,541
Or that starr’d Ethiope 542 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-haired Vesta,543 long of yore
To solitary Saturn bore:
His daughter she (in Saturn’s reign
Such mixture was not held a stain),
Oft in glimmering bow’rs and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida’s 544 inmost grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come, pensive nun,545 devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure,546
All in a robe of darkest grain,547
Flowing with majestic train,
And sable 548 stole 549 of cypress lawn 550
Over thy decent 551 shoulders drawn!
Come, but keep thy wonted 552 state
With even step and musing gait,
And looks commercing 553 with the skies,
Thy rapt 554 soul sitting in thine eyes.
There held in holy passion still,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a sad,555 leaden 556 downward cast557
Thou fix them 558 on the earth as fast.559
And join with thee calm peace, and quiet,
Spare 560 fast,561 that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring
Aye 562 round about Jove’s altar sing.
And add to these retired 563 leisure,
That in trim 564 gardens takes his pleasure.
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring
Him565 that yon soars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne,566
The cherub Contemplation,567
And the mute silence hist 568 along,
’Less 569 Philomel 570 will deign a song
In her sweetest, saddest plight,571
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia 572 checks573 her dragon yoke,574
Gently o’er th’ accustomed oak—
Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chantress,575 oft the woods among,
I woo 576 to hear thy even song,
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry, smooth-shaven577 green,
To behold the wand’ring moon
Riding near her highest noon
Like one that had been led astray
Through the Heav’ns’ wide pathless way,
And oft, as if her head she bowed,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a plat 578 of rising ground
I hear the far-off curfew sound
Over some wide-watered shore,
Swinging slow with sullen579 roar.
Or if the air will not permit,
Some still 580 removèd581 place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,582
Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the bellman’s 583 drowsy charm584
To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be seen in some high lonely tow’r
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,585
With thrice great Hermes,586 or unsphere
The spirit of Plato587 to unfold 588
What worlds, or what vast regions, hold
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion589 in this fleshly nook,590
And of those daemons591 that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true consent592
With planet, or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous593 tragedy
In sceptered 594 pall 595 come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes’,596 or Pelops’ line,597
Or the tale of Troy divine.
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskined 598 stage.
But, O sad virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musaeus 599 from his bower,
Or bid 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 600 that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,601
And who had Canace to wife,
That owned the virtuous ring and glass,
And who had Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass
On which the Tartar king did ride.
And if ought else, great bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung
Of tourneys,602 and of trophies hung,
Of forests, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear.603
Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,604
Till civil-suited 605 morn appear,
Not tricked 606 and frounced,607 as she was wont
With the Attic boy608 to hunt,
But kerchiefed in a comely cloud
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Or ushered with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves,
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring
To archèd walks of twilight groves
And shadows brown that Sylvan609 loves
Of pine, or monumental oak,
Where the rude 610 ax, with heavèd 611 stroke,
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.612
There in close covert,613 by some brook,
Where no profaner614 eye may look,
Hide me from day’s garish615 eye,
While the bee, with honeyed thigh,
That at her flow’ry work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring
With such consort 616 as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at his wings, in airy stream
Of lively portraiture displayed,
Softly on my eye-lids laid.
And as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
Or th’ unseen genius 617 of the wood.
But let my due618 feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters’ pale 619
And love the high embowèd620 roof,
With antic pillars massy 621 -proof,
And storied 622 windows richly dight,623
Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing 624 organ blow
To the full voiced choir below,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies
And bring all Heav’n 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 625
Of every star that Heav’n doth shew,626
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.
ARCADES
1633–34?
Part of an entertainment presented to the Countess
Dowager of Darby, at Harefield, by some noble persons of
her family, who appear on the scene in pastoral habit,
moving toward the seat of state, with this song:
1. Song
Look, nymphs, and shepherds, look!
What sudden blaze of majesty
Is that which we from hence descry,627
Too divine to be mistook.
This, this is she
To whom our vows and wishes bend:
Here our solemn search hath end.
Fame, that her high worth to raise
Seemed erst so lavish and profuse,
We may justly now accuse
Of detraction from her praise.
Less than half we find expressed:
Envy bid conceal the rest.
Mark what radiant state she spreads
In circle round her shining throne,
Shooting her beams like silver threads!
This, this is she alone,
Sitting like a goddess bright
In the center of her light.
Might she the wise Latona 628 be,
Or the towered Cybele,629
Mother of a hundred gods?
Juno dares not give her odds.630
Who had thought this clime had held
A deity so unparall’ed?
As they come forward, the G
enius of the Wood appears
and, turning toward them, says:
Gen. Stay, gentle 631 swains,632 for though in this disguise
I see bright honor sparkle through your eyes.
Of famous Arcady 633 ye are, and sprung
Of that renownèd flood 634 so often sung,
Divine Alphéus, who by secret sluice
Stole under seas, to meet his Arethuse.635
And ye the breathing roses of the wood,
Fair silver-buskined 636 nymphs as great and good,
I know this quest of yours, and free637 intent,
Was all in honor and devotion meant
To the great mistress of yon princely shrine,
Whom with low reverence I adore as mine,
And with all helpful service will comply
To further this night’s glad solemnity,
And lead ye where you may more near behold
What shallow-searching fame hath left untold,
Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone,
Have sat to wonder at and gaze upon.
For know, by lot 638 from Jove I am the pow’r
Of this fair wood and live in oaken bow’r
To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove
With ringlets quaint,639 and wanton 640 windings wove.
And all my plants I save from nightly ill
Of noisome 641 winds or blasting 642 vapors chill,
And from the boughs brush off the evil dew
And heal the harms, of 643 thwarting 644 thunder blew,
Or what the cross, dire-looking planet 645 smites,
Or hurtful worm with cankered 646 venom bites.
When evening gray doth rise, I fetch647 my round
Over the mount, and all this hallowed ground,
And early, ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the slumb’ring leaves, or tasseled horn 648
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
Number649 my ranks,650 and visit every sprout
With puissant 651 words, and murmurs made to bless.
But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness
Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I
To the celestial sirens’ harmony,
That sit upon the nine enfoldèd spheres
And sing to those that hold the vital shears 652
And turn the adamantine 653 spindle round,654
On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie
To lull the daughters of Necessity