Book Hg 
 
Jemi- Monthly 
 
 Number 72 
 
 January 16, 1895 
 
 ^Ly i '^i!li >'-! 4)t.'v ^T^~ " XT7i.-. - T: zt^ ^ ' ^ ^t7-- - "..V i'\<^' .",^uI^ "^^^^^ ^ 
 
 L'ALLEGRO 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 INTRODUCTIONS, AND NOTES 
 
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%^t jUit3er0ii3e iliterature ^ttm 
 
 -■/ 
 
 L'ALLEGRO AND OTHER 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 li>^ 
 
 WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 INTRODUCTIONS, AND NOTES 
 
 M 
 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
 1 
 
 £^WA. 
 
 iin^^-aet 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 Boston : 4 Park Street ; New York : 11 East Seventeenth Street 
 Chicago : 28 Lakeside Building 
 
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 Copyright, 1895, 
 By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 3Iass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Biographical Sketch 5 
 
 On Reading Milton's Vekse 13 
 
 L' Allegro and II Penseroso 
 
 Introductory Note 18 
 
 I. L' Allegro 19 
 
 II. II Penseroso 28 
 
 CoMUs: A Mask 
 
 Introductory Note . . . . ' 38 
 
 Comus 41 
 
 Lycidas 
 
 Introductory Note 81 
 
 Lycidas „ 83 
 
 Sonnets 
 
 I. On his being- arrived to the age of twenty-three . . 93 
 
 II. To the Lord General Fairfax 93 
 
 III. To the Lord General Cromwell . . . . . 94 
 
 IV. To Sir Henry Vane the Younger 95 
 
 V. On the Late Massacre in Piemont 95 
 
 VI. On his Blindness 96 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 John Milton was born in the heart of London, 
 December 9, 1608. His father was born very near 
 the time of Shakespeare's birth, and was a student at 
 Oxford in his youth. It was while he was a student 
 that England was wavering between Catholicism and 
 Protestantism. The poet's grandfather held to the 
 old order, and when his son was found leaning toward 
 the new he disinherited him, and left him to his own 
 devices. Thereupon the student went up to London, 
 and shortly established himself as a scrivener, a term 
 applied to men at that time who were copyists of 
 legal documents, law stationers, and draftsmen also of 
 legal papers. Milton the scrivener prospered, married, 
 and had three children who lived, a daughter and two 
 sons, John Milton being younger than his sister and 
 seven years older than his brother. 
 
 Thus the poet came of a father who sympathized 
 with the new order of things, and who was a con- 
 temporary of Shakespeare. Shakespeare died when 
 Milton was eight years old, but Milton was nearly 
 thirty when Ben Jonson, who was more widely known 
 than Shakespeare in his day, died, and he was eigh- 
 teen years old when Bacon died. Milton's youth 
 therefore was contemporaneous with the closing years 
 of the august period of English dramatic poetry, and 
 the glory of the spacious days of the great Queen 
 Elizabeth was still within the near memory of men. 
 He grew up also in a time when there were mutterings 
 
6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 of the rising storm which was to shake England to its 
 centre. He must have heard much in his boyhood of 
 the attempt made by King James to marry his son to a 
 Spanish princess, an heir to the throne of Protestant 
 England, and a daughter of the house which was the 
 stanch defender of the Pope, and the great rival and 
 enemy of England in the days of Elizabeth. He 
 must have been aware also of the widening breach 
 between King and Parliament. He was seventeen 
 years old when Charles I. ascended the throne. 
 
 When this took place, Milton had just been entered 
 at Christ's College, Cambridge. His schooldays had 
 been spent in London at St. Paul's school, and he 
 has himself recorded his devotion to books. " My 
 father," he writes, " destined me while yet a little boy 
 for the study of humane letters, which I seized with 
 such eagerness that from the twelfth year of my age I 
 scarcely ever went from my lessons to bed before 
 midnight ; which, indeed, was the first cause of injury 
 to my eyes, to whose natural weakness there were 
 also added frequent headaches. All which not 
 retarding my impetuosity in learning, he caused me 
 to be daily instructed both at the grammar-school 
 and under other masters at home ; and then, when I 
 had acquired various tongues and also some not 
 insignificant taste for the sweetness of philosophy^ 'he 
 sent me to Cambridge,, one of our two national 
 universities." 
 
 The p-reat studies in which Milton was nurtured 
 were Latin and Greek. The latter had been 
 generally studied in school only for a generation or 
 so. It was a new study, very much as science is a 
 new study now. Hebrew also was taught, and Mil- 
 ton studied it. Moreover by his father's advice he 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 7 
 
 learned to read and speak French and Italian, and his 
 best friend at school was Charles Diodati, a young 
 Englishman of Italian descent. But besides his 
 learned studies, Milton was a reader of English 
 poetry. The first folio of Shakespeare's plays was 
 published in 1623, when Milton was fifteen, and it is 
 clear from his own writing that he knew Shakespeare 
 well, but after all Shakespeare was a great dramatist, 
 and Milton was born out of the days when the drama 
 was the great form. The poetry of English origin 
 which he loved best was that of Edmund Spenser, 
 whose Faerie Queene was published in 1590. Spen- 
 ser has sometimes been called the poet's poet. He 
 was Milton's at all events, and when we consider that 
 the body of great English poetry which we know to- 
 day consisted in Milton's 'time of Chaucer, Spenser, 
 and Shakespeare, and that two of these poets were 
 very modern to him, — for Milton to read Spenser 
 was like our reading Tennyson, — we can see how 
 largely he drew his poetic nourishment from classic 
 literature. Indeed, though scholars did not despise 
 the English tongue, it did not have to them then the 
 value it has now. Bacon wrote his greatest work in 
 Latin so as to be read more generally by scholars, 
 and a considerable body of Milton's j)oetry is in Latin. 
 When he was nineteen years old he had occasion 
 to engage in a public exercise at college. There had 
 been some Latin speeches, and when they were over, 
 Milton made an address in English verse to his 
 native language which is interesting for showing the 
 profound respect he had for it, and how energetically 
 he desired to put his best thoughts into it, and to use 
 its best form : — 
 
8 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 " Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming- slight, 
 AVhich take our late f antastics with delight, 
 But call those richest robes, and gay'st attire. 
 Which deepest spii-its, and choicest wits desire." 
 
 In his boyhood Milton had scribbled verses. In 
 college, besides his Latin poems he wrote the Ode on 
 the Morning of Chrisfs Nativity^ some verses on the 
 death of his sister Anne's infant child, a sonnet on 
 Shakespeare, the sonnets on the university carrier, 
 Hobson, and a number of other poems which are less 
 read but bear the marks of his fine musical sense, 
 his dignity, and the somewhat overmastering influence 
 of his studies. He gained distinction at the univer- 
 sity. He was in favor with the authorities, but 
 unpopular, at first, with his fellow students, who 
 nicknamed him " The Lady," both for the delicacy of 
 his appearance and for a certain reserve of demeanor. 
 There is a picture extant of the poet at the age of 
 ten. It is described as showing a grave, fair boy 
 with auburn hair, having a neat lace frill and a black 
 braided dress which fitted closely round his chest and 
 arms. He was already called a little poet, and his 
 father took the greatest pride in him and taught him 
 the music which he himself loved and knew well. 
 This home-nurtured boy was the reserved, delicate- 
 minded student, who kept aloof from coarse compan- 
 ionship as he had taken little part in boyish games. 
 He was thought vain by his fellows, and there is no 
 doubt that he did set a high value on his scholarly 
 and poetic tastes. There is another picture of the 
 poet taken at the age of twenty-one and shows him a 
 singularly clear-faced and handsome fellow. 
 
 His father evidently intended John Milton to be a 
 priest of the Church of England, but there were two 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 9 
 
 forces whicli were at work in the student forbidding 
 this. He was acquiring a certain independence of 
 mind which made him out of sympathy with the grow- 
 ing ecclesiasticisra, and he was cherishing a noble am- 
 bition to devote himself to high poetry. So, since his 
 father had now retired from business and taken him- 
 self to a little village named Horton about seventeen 
 miles west of London, here in the midst of green 
 fields intersected by numberless brooks and small 
 streams, he lived quietly and studiously for half a 
 dozen years. It was during this musing country life 
 in the flush of his opening power that he wrote the 
 minor poems which would have given him a great 
 place in English literature had he never written 
 Paradise Lost ; for here he wrote the lovely pair of 
 poems, L'' Allegro and // Penseroso^ here he penned 
 the playful fancies which gave poetic dignity to festi- 
 vals. Arcades and Comus^ and here he wrote the 
 elegy Lycidas^ which rose above a personal lament 
 into the place of a noble burst of patriotism. 
 
 The last line of Lycidas seems to intimate a de- 
 sign on Milton's part to engage in new poetic enter- 
 prises, but if he had such design he laid it aside for a 
 while to carry out a long cherished plan of travel on 
 the continent. In the spring of 1638 he set out by 
 easy stages for Italy and in the fall he was in Flor- 
 ence. With his mind steeped in ancient literature 
 and feeding eagerly on the new Italian literature and 
 art, Milton seems to have had an intellectual feast, 
 and the companionship which he held with the fore- 
 most men in the cities he visited was of the same sort 
 which he held with books. He demanded the best, 
 and by his own attainments made himself welcomed 
 by the best. He visited Galileo, then blind and liv- 
 
10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 ing in retirement, and was constantly with men of 
 scholarship and culture. At home he gave himself 
 up to the life of ancient Rome, and he was j^lanning 
 further journeys when news came to him at Naples 
 that turned him homeward. 
 
 "While I was desirous," he saV "to cross into 
 Sicily and Greece, the sad news of c 'dl war coming 
 from England called me back ; for 1^ consider^ ^ it 
 disgraceful that, while my fellow-countrymen were 
 fighting at home for liberty, I should be traveling 
 abroad at ease for intellectual purposes." The civil 
 war did more than break up Milton's plans for travel ; 
 it changed the whole course of his life as he had laid 
 it out. For twenty years the poet was lost to view in 
 the patriot, the scholar, and the man of public affairs. 
 
 For, as already hinted at, Milton had been born 
 into a troubled age, of a family which had taken sides 
 in religion, and the religious contest had become 
 political, so that Puritanism was the sign of protest 
 against kingly monopoly. Milton, with his independ- 
 ent cast of mind and his passionate nature, was in 
 dead earnest and he could not be a mere party fol- 
 lower. He had splendid dreams for England, and all 
 his poetic passion seemed to find vent in pamphlet 
 after pamphlet as he took up one question after an- 
 other. Some of these questions were social as well 
 as political, and his own unhappy domestic life gave 
 an impulse to some of his reasoning, for his sudden 
 marriage with Mary Powel turned out badly, and 
 though after a separation she came back to him and 
 bore him three daughters, the bitter disappointment 
 gave occasion for much passionate writing on the 
 subject of divorce. 
 
 During this stormy period Milton maintained him- 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 11 
 
 self as a schoolmaster, but gave his energy to his 
 writings. The volume of his prose greatly exceeds 
 that of his poetry, but it is like the editorial work 
 of newspapers, very effective for its purpose at the 
 time when written and published, but quite lost to 
 sight afterward. '^ ere are one or two of his books, 
 however, especiaP the one called Areojmgitica ; or 
 the L' >erty of Jnlicensed Printing^ which are still 
 read for their noble English and their great thoughts. 
 For the most part, however, his pamphlets were 
 crowded with arguments and invective meant to do 
 execution in the heat of wordy warfare. During the 
 latter part of the period he was Latin Secretary of the 
 Commonwealth under Cromwell ; that is, it was his 
 business to translate despatches to and from foreign 
 ofovernments. In the midst of all this clamorous din 
 
 o 
 
 of public affairs, there came from him those noble 
 spontaneous sonnets which were prompted by the 
 massacre in Piedmont, and by his friendship for 
 Cromwell and Vane. 
 
 There is an affecting sonnet also on his blindness, 
 for in 1652, when he was forty-three years old, a 
 gradual failing of sight had ended in total blindness. 
 Thus when the end of his hopes for England seemed 
 to have come and the kingdom was restored in 1660, 
 Milton was a poor, blind man, driven into obscurity 
 by the incoming to power of those he had opj^osed all 
 his life. How strongly he felt all this is seen in his 
 dramatic piece Samson Agonistes. 
 
 For a while Milton was in hiding and he was forced 
 to give up much of what property he had. He lost 
 besides by fire, but though jDoor in worldly goods and 
 blind, his mind to him a kingdom was, and so, bidding 
 good-by to courts and the whirl of public life, he re- 
 
12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 turned to a scholar's ways. Tlie stream which had 
 been diverted returned to the channel of poetry, and 
 the story of his last years is the story of writing Par- 
 adise Lost and Paradise liegained. He listened to 
 readers and he dictated his poems. In his youth he 
 had pondered over large schemes of verse. Now in 
 his old age, after taking part in a revolution which 
 had been set in motion by love of liberty and a deep 
 religious earnestness, he took the great theme of the 
 human race in its relation to God. The largeness of 
 the poet's ideal, a largeness which had been before 
 him all his life, finds expression in this great epic, 
 just as the beauty which he loved finds expression in 
 the group of poems printed in this little collection. 
 Milton died November 8, 1674. 
 
ON READING MILTON'S VERSE. 
 
 The text o£ the long poems included in this vol- 
 ume follows the edition of 1645 with occasional varia- 
 tions suggested by the edition of 1673. By the end 
 of 1652 Milton had become totally blind, and the 
 earlier edition therefore could be the only one which 
 would have the benefit of his eyesight in the pre- 
 paration of copy and the correction of proof. This 
 is an important consideration, for no one can give the 
 most casual attention to Milton's writings, especially 
 to his verse, without perceiving the scholarly delight 
 which he took in all the niceties of his art. 
 
 It becomes then of great moment in reading Mil- 
 ton to have his verse just as he left it, and it is fortu- 
 nate that the shorter poems here printed all apj)Gared 
 in the fresh strength of Milton's young manhood. 
 At a superficial view, it is of no consequence whether 
 we read L^ Allegro in a text which is modernized, or 
 in a text which scrupulously follows Milton's own. 
 Indeed it niight be argued that a listener would be 
 better off if the reader had the aid of the more 
 familiar form, inasmuch as there would be fewer ob- 
 stacles for the eye to overcome. But a closer inspec- 
 tion will reveal the advantage which accrues to the 
 slightly archaic form here given. 
 
 Milton, as a scholar, was one of the arbiters of 
 orthography. The time had not come when diction- 
 ary makers and printers fixed the exact form. Con- 
 sequently he varied the spelling of the same word 
 
14 ON READING MILTON S VERSE. 
 
 according to the demands of rhythm or even of rhyme 
 to the eye. If he wished the accent to fall lightly 
 on their., he spelled it thir. If he wrote a line, 
 
 " Com, but keep thy wonted state," 
 
 he allowed himself to sjiell the rhyme-making word of 
 the next line in the same way, 
 
 " With eev'n step, and musing gate." 
 
 The instances of each sort are many and very inter- 
 esting to trace. The line just quoted affords another 
 example of his delicate ear. He spelled even in a 
 way to show the length of the first syllable and the 
 elision in the second. The reader will perceive re- 
 peatedly how nicely Milton distinguishes by typo- 
 graphic marks between syllables dropped and sylla- 
 bles sounded, and how carefully he indicates the t 
 and the d sounds in past participles. The student 
 of these poems will constantly be delighted by these 
 evidences of Milton's punctilious care. 
 
 There are other forms of spelling, which are inter- 
 esting in an historical way. When one sees that 
 Milton wrote Plowman., and center., and savory., it 
 sets him reflecting that the orthography which is so 
 strongly contested is not the innovation of an imper- 
 fectly trained lexicographer, and that the usage of a 
 few generations of London writers does not neces- 
 sarily determine the best usage of to-day. These 
 and similar points of study and observation, which 
 are sometimes referred to explicitly in the notes and 
 sometimes left for the student to discover to his own 
 pleasure, afford an admirable secondary pursuit in the 
 reading of Milton. Those who read this book for 
 the first time will not be persons unacquainted with 
 the ordinary forms of English, and what they meet 
 
ON READING MILTON S VERSE. 15 
 
 here, therefore, will not serve to unclermme their 
 confidence in the accepted spelling of the day; but 
 they will be, for the most part, students ready for 
 an introduction to one of the most pregnant subjects 
 for intellectual excitement, the study of words, and 
 the slight variation from regular orthography will 
 suggest many interesting excursions in language. It 
 would be hard to find a book better calculated to 
 initiate the student in a course of lexical inquiry 
 than a collection of Milton's minor verse printetl 
 just as he intended it to be printed ; the student 
 will have opportunity then to ask. Is this a f oriji 
 which Milton deliberately chose, or is it the common 
 form of language in the time of Milton? and the 
 answer in each case is likely to afford him great 
 interest. 
 
 We have said that this study of words is a second- 
 ary pursuit. It is a great gain both to teacher and 
 pupil to have such a secondary pursuit when reading 
 the works of a great author. But the primary study 
 of Milton supplies another reason for using a text 
 which follows his own edition. We have hinted at 
 it in referring to Milton's delicate ear. " Angelic," 
 De Quincey calls it, and he adds : " Many are the 
 prima facie anomalous lines in Milton ; many are 
 the suspicious lines, which in many a book I have 
 seen many a critic peering into, with eyes made up 
 for mischief, yet with a misgiving that all was not 
 quite safe, very much like an old raven looking down 
 a marrow bone. In fact, such is the metrical skill of 
 the man, and such the perfection of his metrical 
 sensibility, that, on any attempt to take liberties 
 with a passage of his, you feel as when coming in a 
 forest, upon what seems a dead lion ; perhaps he 
 
16 ON READING MILTON'S VERSE. 
 
 may not be dead ; nay, perhaps he may not be sleep- 
 ing, but only shamming. And you have a jealousy, 
 as to Milton, even in the most flagrant case of almost 
 palpable error, that after all there may be a plot in 
 it. You may be put down with shame by some man 
 reading the line otherwise, reading it with a different 
 emphasis, a different caesura, or perhaps a different 
 suspension of the voice, so as to bring out a new and 
 self-justifying effect." ^ And De Quincey gives an 
 illustration of the singular enrichment of a line by 
 proper reading when he takes a line from Samson 
 Agonistes^ 
 
 " Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him 
 Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves," 
 
 and punctuates it thus, following Landor's suggestion, 
 
 " Eyeless, in Gaza, at the mill, with slaves." 
 
 " And why ? " he asks ; " because thus ' the grief of 
 Samson is aggravated at every member of the sen- 
 tence.' He (like Milton) was (1) blind ; (2) in a 
 city of triumphant enemies ; (3) working for daily 
 bread ; (4) herding with slaves, — Samson literally, 
 and Milton with those whom he regarded as such." 
 
 The appeal which great poetry makes is through 
 its splendid music. No comment on L' Allegro for 
 example, no analysis of its contents, is such an inter- 
 pretation as a beautiful reading aloud of its lovely 
 measures. What would we not give if we could have 
 a phonographic repetition of Milton's own recital ! In 
 the absence of that we come most closely to Milton's 
 voice when we read attentively as he has bidden us 
 read, by his fine distinctions in accent, in length 
 
 ^ Milton vs. Southey and Landor. Volume IV. of The Works of 
 Thomas De Quincey. 
 
ON READING MILT ON S VERSE. 17 
 
 of syllables, in pauses, in tlie slurring of notes or 
 in sharp staccato speech, in punctuation, in elision. 
 These refinements of reading are very greatly helped 
 by the reading of his text as he meant people should 
 read it. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is undesirable that in making a first 
 acquaintance with Milton we should be embarrassed 
 by obstacles which do not add either to the music or 
 the meaning of his verse. The fashion of capitaliza- 
 tion, for example, is only a fashion, and therefore no 
 attempt has been made to copy the edition of 1643 
 in this respect. Again the use of the apostrophe 
 to mark the possessive case was very irregular in 
 Milton's time; nothing is gained by a departure 
 from the customary regular usage of the present time. 
 Punctuation also is simply an aid to clear reading, 
 and an unaccustomed method is confusing, not helpful. 
 Finally, there are words whose variation in spelling 
 from that now current is rather curious than signifi- 
 cant, and it has been thought better to spell these in 
 the customary form rather than to puzzle the reader 
 with unfamiliar and perhaps misleading forms. The 
 present text, therefore, while a verbatim is not a liter- 
 atim copy of that of 1643. 
 
L' ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 The titles of these two poems intimate tlieir con- 
 trasted cliaracter. Milton was deep in his Italian 
 studies when he wrote of The Joyous Man and The 
 Pensive One, as the titles may freely be rendered. 
 The balance of parts is preserved and in the notes 
 will occasionally be found specific reminders, but it 
 is more in accordance with the spirit of the interpre-* 
 tation of poetry to look for the contrasts in masses and 
 in broad counterparts. The scheme, indeed, is slightly 
 artificial, and it may be guessed that Milton with his 
 reflecting nature should have written the second of 
 the poems first, at any rate that he should have given 
 himself to its composition more freely. The two 
 poems are indeed like two pieces of music, one in a 
 major, the other in the minor key, and poetry is apt to 
 find in the minor key a wider range of expression. It 
 would be a good exercise to work out the parallel and 
 contrast which underlie the two poems. It should 
 never be lost out of sight in reading them that they 
 are hot descriptive verses, but poems in which nature 
 and human nature alike are seen under 
 
 " The light that never was, on sea or land ; 
 The consecration, and the Poet's dream." 
 
 Some admirable remarks on this matter may be 
 found in the introduction by Mark Pattison to the 
 selection of Milton's poems printed in Ward's The 
 £Jnglish Poets. Both poems appear to have been 
 written between 1632 and 1638. 
 
I.. 
 
 L' ALLEGRO. 
 
 Hence, loathed Melancholy, 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, 
 Li Stygian cave forlorn, 
 
 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights 
 unholy, 
 5 Find out some uncouth cell. 
 
 Where brooding darknes spreads his jealous 
 wings. 
 And the night-raven sings ; 
 
 There under ebon shades, and lowArow'd rocks, 
 As ragged as thy locks, » '^ 
 
 10 In dark Cimnlerjan desert ever dwell. 
 But come thou'Goddes fair and free, 
 Li heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne, 
 And by men, heart-easing Mirth, 
 Whonr lovely Yenus at a birth 
 15 With two sister Graces more 
 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; 
 
 2. So natural is this parentage, that at first ope is half-disposed 
 to think this was an ancient myth instead of an invention of 
 Milton's. But a moment's reflection upon the word in its origin, 
 for in Greek " melancholy " is " black bile," reminds one how 
 readily the ancients resolved mental disorder into physical ail. 
 
 8. Low-bro-wed == overhanging. 
 
 14. At a birth. As we say one at a time ; so here, it is 
 equivalent to three at one birth. 
 
 15. The two sister graces are Meat and Drink. 
 
20 U ALLEGRO. 
 
 Or whether (as som sager sing) 
 
 The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
 
 Zephyr with Aurora playing, 
 
 20 As he met her once a Maying, 
 
 - There on beds of violets blew. 
 And fresh-blown roses washt in dew, 
 Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair. 
 So buxom, blith, and debonair. 
 
 25 Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest and youthful Jollity, 
 Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, 
 Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 
 30 And love to live in dimple sleek ; 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 Come, and trip it as ye go 
 On the light fantastic toe, 
 
 21. Blew =:blue. This is one of Milton's eye-rhymes. 
 
 24. Blith. It appears as if Milton wished to touch the word 
 lightly, with the short i. See line 65, where he adds the cus- 
 tomary e. 
 
 28. Wreathed Smiles. The fundamental sense of wreath is 
 a twist, but its association with flowers and clouds seems for the 
 most part to have relieved it from the notion of pain which 
 attaches to its other form writhe^ and here, therefore, wreathed 
 Smiles is offset against wrinkled Care. 
 
 33. Come. Milton writes it here and throughout the poem, 
 com, apparently to shorten the sound, and make it more beckon- 
 ing by omitting the final e, but we always pronounce it thus. 
 
 Trip it. From a poetic and literary use, such a form has 
 fallen almost exclusively into colloquial use. We should hardly 
 expect to find " go it," for example, in a piece of literature, 
 though in a few phrases, as " lord it," literature still avails itself 
 of the form. See, for this line and the next, Shakespeare's The 
 Tempest, Act IV. sc. i., line 46. 
 
r ALLEGRO. 21 
 
 35 And in thy right hand lead with thee 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; 
 And if I give thee honor due, 
 Mirth, admit me of thy crue, 
 To live with her, and live with thee, 
 
 40 In un reproved pleasures free ; 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And singing startle the dull night. 
 From his watoh-towre in the skies, 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
 
 45 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, 
 
 50 Scatters the rear of darknes thin. 
 And to the stack, or the barn door. 
 Stoutly struts his dames before : 
 Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbring morn, 
 
 36. One frequently finds in Milton, in consequence of his lofty 
 spirit, touched with large visions of political and religious life, 
 passages which seem very modern and familiar, as in this asso- 
 ciation of freedom with the mountains, which is a note heard 
 most frequently in poetry from Wordsworth down. .'• 
 
 38. Crue, i. e. crew. In Milton's time the simple sense of a 
 gathering, a crowd, prevailed in the use of this word, though the 
 contemptuous intonation also occasionally was heard. 
 
 43. Towre. See the same word made a dissyllable in line 
 77. 
 
 45. To come. More fully this would be " to see him come," 
 as before Milton wrote " to hear the lark begin." 
 
 In spite of sorrow =: to spite sorrow. 
 
 52. Struts is not a transitive verb. The action is completed 
 in the previous line. So in this line the preposition is made a 
 postposition. 
 
22 r ALLEGRO. 
 
 55 From the side of som hoar hill, 
 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill: 
 
 Some time walking not unseen, 
 
 By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green. 
 
 Right against the eastern gate, 
 60 Wher' the great sun begins his state, 
 
 Rob'd in flames, and amber light. 
 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight, 
 
 While the plowman near at hand 
 
 Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, 
 65 And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
 
 And the mower whets his scythe. 
 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 70 Whilst the lantski}) round it measures 
 
 Russet lawns, and fallows gray. 
 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 
 Mountains on whose barren breast 
 
 The labouring clouds do often rest : 
 
 55. Hoar = white with frost. Observe the difference in 
 spelling of some in this line and the second following. 
 
 67. Tells his tale = keeps his tally. We still use the word 
 tell with this meaning in the phrase " to tell off." Tale is 
 closely allied to tally. 
 
 68. See Goldsmith's The Deserted Village, line 13. 
 
 69. Straight. 
 
 70. Lantskip. So Milton spelled landscape. The usual 
 form was landskip. 
 
 71. Lavwn had not in Milton's time the exclusive significance 
 of level open space about a dwelling. It was simply any open 
 grassy place and here means pasture. 
 
 Fallow again means here grassy, overgrown, neglected til- 
 lage. The colors which Milton assigns are rather the dull colors 
 of browsing ground than nicely discriminated hues of different 
 earths. 
 
V ALLEGRO. 23 
 
 75 Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
 
 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. 
 
 Towers, and battlements it sees 
 
 Bosom'd high in tufted trees, 
 
 Wher perhaps som beauty lies, 
 80 The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
 
 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes, 
 
 From betwixt two aged okes. 
 
 Where Corydon and Thyrsis met. 
 
 Are at their savory dinner set 
 85 Of hearbs, and other country messes. 
 
 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; 
 
 And then in haste her bowre she leaves, 
 
 With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 
 
 Or if the earlier season lead, 
 90 To the tann'd haycock in the mead. 
 
 Somtimes with secure delight 
 
 The up-land hamlets will invite. 
 
 When the merry bells ring round, 
 
 And the jocund rebecks sound 
 95 To many a youth, and many a maid, 
 
 75. Pied. Milton wrote pide, as above he wrote hrest. 
 
 78. We are more familiar with the meaning of bosom'd 
 here when it takes the form " embosomed." 
 
 79. Lies = dwells. 
 
 82. Okes. A familiar form for oaks in Milton's day. 
 
 85. Hearbs. This spelling shows the pronunciation which 
 onr ancestors, following that form, corrupted into yarbs. 
 
 88. Both Phyllis and Thestylis are rustic maidens in classic 
 poetry, and so adopted by Milton, as he had already used the 
 names of Thyrsis and Corydon. 
 
 91. Secure has here its first derivative meaning, sine cura, 
 free from care. 
 
 92. Upland = rustic, clear country, rather than necessarily 
 high ground. 
 
24 U ALLEGRO. 
 
 Dancing in the chequer' d shade ; 
 And young and old come forth to play 
 On a sunshine holyday, 
 Till the live-long day-light fail. 
 
 100 Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 
 With stories told of many a feat, 
 How faery Mab the junkets eat, 
 She was pincht and pull'd, she said, 
 And he by friars' Ian thorn led, 
 
 105 Tells how the drudging goblin swet. 
 To earn his cream-bowle duly set, 
 When in one night, ere glimpse of morn. 
 His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn 
 That ten day-labourers could not end ; 
 
 no Then lies him down the lubbar-fend, 
 
 96. Chequer'd. Sliakespcare, in Titus Andronicus, II. iii. 14, 
 15, happily defines tliis word : — 
 
 " The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind 
 And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground." 
 
 102. Here, as so often, Milton reminds us of his familiarity 
 with Shakespeare. See A Midsummer Ni(/hfs Dream, II. i. 
 
 103. Said. That Milton wrote sed seems to show that there 
 was a choice of pronunciations, sade or sed. 
 
 104. And he. In the liveliness of the scene Milton is indiffer- 
 ent to a nice discrimination of persons. There is a jumble of 
 male and female voices. A maid servant says she was " pincht 
 and puU'd." In breaks a man servant with his story, how he 
 was misled by a will-o'-the-wisp. Another still, it may be, tells 
 how Robin Goodfellow toiled. The Norwegians have the same 
 story of a goblin, and peasants still set out bowls of porridge for 
 him. 
 
 108. Hath. Hales asserts that Milton does not use the form 
 has. 
 
 109. End =: make an end of. 
 
 110. Lubbar-fend. We should write lubher-fiend. Mrs. 
 Ewing has a pretty tale, of Lob Lie-hy-the-Fire. The old word 
 Lob still lingers in New England in Lob Lane in the country. 
 
U ALLEGRO. 25 
 
 And stretch'd out all the chimney's length, 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength ; 
 And crop-ful out of doors he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings. 
 
 U5 Thus done the tales, to bed they creep. 
 By whispering windes soon luU'd asleep. 
 Towred cities please us then, 
 And the busie humm of men, 
 Where throngs of knights and barons bold 
 
 120 In weeds of peace high triumphs hold. 
 With store 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. 
 
 125 There let Hymen oft appear 
 In saffron robe, with taper clear, 
 And pomp, and feast, and revelry, 
 
 Indeed it is to be suspected that many a love-lane is a modern- 
 ization of this old form. 
 
 117. The force of then will be understood better if it is read 
 as the first word in the line. It does not point to the time of 
 the preceding line, but is a word of transition. 
 
 118. Humm. The duplication of the rti increases the sound- 
 effect, 
 
 120. "Weeds = garments. The word in this significance is 
 used now only of mourning garments. For the phrase " weeds 
 of peace " see Troilus and Cressida, Act III. sc. iii. 1. 239. 
 
 122. Milton wrote eies, a common form, and prise. 
 
 125. As masques, which will be treated later in Comus, were 
 often pageants in connection with the marriage festivities of the 
 nobility, the figure of Hymen was a frequent one. Mr. Hales 
 quotes here from Ben Jonson's HymencBi or the Solemnities of 
 Masque and Barrier at a Marriage : " Entered Hymen ... in 
 a saffron-colored robe, his under vestures white, his socks yel- 
 low, a yellow veil of silk on his left arm, his head crowned with 
 roses and marjoram, in his right hand a torch of pine-tree." 
 
26 r ALLEGRO. 
 
 Witli mask, and antique pageantry, 
 Such sights as youthfull poets dream 
 
 130 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
 If Jonson's learned sock be on. 
 Or sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child. 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
 
 135 And ever against eating cares. 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs. 
 Married to immortal verse, 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
 In notes, with many a winding bout 
 
 140 Of linked sweetnes long drawn out. 
 With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, 
 The melting voice through mazes running; 
 Untwisting all the chains that ty 
 The hidden soul of harmony ; 
 
 145 That Orpheus' self may heave his head 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 
 132. Milton himself, a lover of learning, emphasizes the dis- 
 tinction which was common in his day between Ben Jonson, who 
 wrote with the classics always in his thought, and was the cor- 
 rect, regular dramatist of the day, and Shakespeare, whose 
 free, unrestrained manner delighted Milton, though he set him 
 down as not in the succession of classic poets. 
 
 135. Eating cares is an exact translation of a passage in 
 Horace ; but the Biblical phrase '' the zeal of thy house hath 
 eaten me up" is a similar use. 
 
 136. Lydian airs were soft and voluptuous. 
 
 138. Pierce. The rhyme shows how this word was pro- 
 nounced by Milton. Now and then one hears the pronunciation 
 as an old-fashioned one, but it is not infrequently so sounded as 
 a proper name. 
 
 145. Heave was not in Milton's time, as now, so associated 
 with the idea heavy. It was simply to raise, and not necessarily 
 to raise an anchor. 
 
U ALLEGRO. 27 
 
 Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear 
 Sueli strains as would have won the ear 
 Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
 150 His half regain'd Eurydice. 
 
 These delights, if thou canst give, 
 Mirth with thee I mean to live. 
 
n. 
 
 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 Hence vain deluding joys, 
 
 The brood of folly without father bred, 
 How little you bested, 
 
 Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ; 
 5 Dwell in some idle brain, 
 
 And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, 
 As thick and numberless 
 
 As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
 Or likest hovering dreams 
 10 The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
 But hail thou goddes, sage and holy, 
 Hail divinest Melancholy, 
 Whose saintly visage is too bright 
 To hit the sense of human sight, 
 15 And therfore 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 Ethiope queen that strove 
 20 To set her beauty's praise above 
 
 2. That is, vain deluding joys which are due to folly alone. 
 6. Foiid 1= foolish. 
 
 19. Starr'd Ethiope queen. Cassiopeia, fabled to have 
 been made a constellation. 
 
 20. The story runs that she boasted of her beauty above that 
 of the Nereids, and for punishment was made, when among the 
 stars, to be turning backward. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 29 
 
 The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended. 
 
 Yet thou art higher far descended, 
 
 Thee bright-hair'd Yesta, long of yore, 
 
 To solitary Saturn bore ; 
 25 His daughter she (in Saturn's reign. 
 
 Such mixture was not held a stain) 
 
 Oft in glimmering bowres and glades . 
 
 He met her, and in secret shades 
 
 Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 
 30 While yet there was no fear of Jove. 
 
 Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
 
 Sober, steadfast, and demure. 
 
 All in a robe of darkest grain. 
 
 Flowing with majestic train, 
 35 And sable stole of cipres lawn. 
 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 
 
 Come, but keep thy wonted state. 
 
 With eev'n step, and musing gate. 
 
 And looks commercing with the skies, 
 40 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 
 
 There held in holy passion still. 
 
 Forget thy self to marble, till 
 
 With a sad leaden downward cast. 
 
 Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 
 
 22. Higher = more highly. 
 
 23. Vesta was the goddess of the hearth, and the fitness of 
 the parentage, which is of Milton's devising, steals out of the 
 lines that follow. 
 
 30. Yet = as yet. 
 
 33. All. So "all on a summer's day." Milton uses grain 
 for Tyrian purple. 
 
 35. Cipres lawn = Cyprus lawn = black crape. See Auto- 
 lycus' song in Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, Act IV. sc. iv." 
 
 36. Decent = comely. 
 41. Still is an adjective. 
 
l-u^ 
 
 30 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 45 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, 
 
 50 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 
 Bijt first, and chiefest, with thee bring, 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing. 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne. 
 The cherub Contemplation ; 
 
 55 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 dragon yoke, 
 
 60 Gently o'er th' accustom 'd oak ; 
 Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly, 
 Most musicall, most melancholy ! 
 Thee chauntress oft the woods among, 
 I w^oo to hear thy even-song ; 
 
 49. Leisure. Milton wrote this leasure. 
 
 53. Milton knew his Bible, especially the Old Testament, 
 well. See Ezekiel, chapter x. 
 
 54. Note that contemplation has five - syllables. Other 
 similar cases may be noted. 
 
 55. Hist, A curious use of the word. Hales says it is equi- 
 valent to " bring silently along." Is it not possible that Milton, 
 having adjured Melancholy to come as his companion, and to 
 bring for other company Peace, Quiet, spare Fast, and retired 
 Leisure, but above all the cherub Contemplation, treats Silence 
 itself as a dumb dog, and so uses the word which would apply 
 to the ordering of a dog, — 'st Silence ! 
 
 61. Noise is not necessarily disagreeable sound in Milton. 
 
 64. Even-song. Milton uses here an ecclesiastical phrase in 
 familiar use then, just as in L' Allegro, 1. 114, he refers to the 
 matin of the cock. This is one of the distinctly contrasted points 
 in the two poems. 
 
 M 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 31 
 
 65 And missing thee, I walk unseen 
 
 On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
 
 To behold the wand'ring moon, 
 
 Riding near her highest noon, 
 
 Like one that had been led astray 
 70 Through the heav'n's wide pathles 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, 
 75 Over sora wide- water 'd shore, 
 
 Swinging low with sullen roar ; 
 
 Or if the air will not permit, 
 
 Som still removed place will fit, 
 
 Where glowing embers through the room 
 80 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 : 
 
 65. Unseen. See L'Allegro, 1. 57. 
 
 68. Noon. The night in this poem is the full period, and the 
 noon of the moon corresponds thus to midnight. 
 
 70. Been. Milton wrote Un as giving the sound better. 
 
 74. Curfeu. Milton's spelling of the word indicates more 
 explicitly than the modern form its origin. 
 
 77. That is, if the weather forbids this out-door consorting 
 with Melancholy, then some room still and remote. 
 
 80. This line readily suggests the lines in Paradise Lost, I. 
 61-64. 
 
 " A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, 
 As one great furnace, flam'd ; yet from those flames 
 No light, but rather darkness visible 
 Serv'd only to discover sights of woe." 
 
 84. Nightly = in the night time. 
 
32 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 85 Or let my lamp at midnight hour, 
 Be seen in som high lonely towr, 
 Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 
 With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphear 
 The spirit of Plato, to unfold » ^^ ^^t- 
 
 90 What worlds, or what vast regions hold 
 The immortal mind, that hath forsook 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook : 
 And of those daemons that are found 
 In fire, air, flood, or under ground, 
 
 95 Whose power hath a true consent 
 With planet, or with element. 
 Somtime let gorgeous tragedy 
 In scepter'd pall come sweeping by. 
 Presenting Thebs, or Pelops' line, 
 
 100 Or the tale of Troy divine. 
 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 
 88. Thrice great Hermes = Hermes Trismegistus. Un- 
 sphear. The implication of the word is that the spirit of Plato 
 is dwelling- in a sphere apart from this world ; to unsphere the 
 spirit, therefore, is to bring him out of that sphere down to the 
 world, where he may disclose the secret of immortality. It is 
 probable that either of two sounds was allowable, just as now 
 we say, as we may prefer in poetry, loind or wind, and that 
 Milton rhymes unsphear with hear. 
 
 96. When Milton wrote, astrology was not consigned to the 
 care of cheap fortune tellers. 
 
 98. Scepter'd pall, that is in robes worn by a king bearing 
 a sceptre. 
 
 99. Thebs = Thebes. 
 
 100. These three were the great subjects of Greek tragedy. 
 
 101. Though rare. These words in parenthesis seem to inti- 
 mate the critical attitude which Milton took toward the English 
 drama. He was writing when the great Elizabethan period had 
 closed and popular taste was turning to other than Shakespeare's 
 plays. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 33 
 
 Ennobled hath the biiskin'd stage. 
 But, O sad Virgin, that thy power 
 Might raise Mu^'fevi^' f rom his bower, 
 
 105 Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing '7 
 
 Such notes as warbled to the string, i j 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 'X^Jj- 
 And made Hell grant what Love did seek. 
 
 "^ Or call up him that left half told 
 
 no The story of Cambuscan bold. 
 Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 
 And who had Canace to wife. 
 That own'd the vertuous ring and glass, 
 And of the wondrous horse of brass, 
 
 U5 On 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 inchantments drear, 
 
 120 Where more is meant then meets the ear. 
 
 106. Warbled. A comma placed before this word would 
 show at once its grammatical place. 
 
 109. Him. Chaucer. 
 
 110. Cambuscan =: Cambres-Khan. Chaucer, who writes 
 the word Cambyuscan, throws the accent on the first syllable. 
 
 112. The names Camballo, Algarsyf, and Canace all occur in 
 the story as Chaucer tells it. See The Squire's Tale. 
 
 113. Vertuous = possessing power. When the revisers of 
 the New Testament came to Mark vi. 30, and read, " And 
 Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out 
 of him," they saw that the old English sense had disappeared 
 from common use, and they made it to read " And straightway 
 Jesus, perceiving in himself that the power proceeding from him 
 had gone forth." 
 
 120. This is especially true of Spenser's great allegory of 
 The Faerie Queene, which Milton no doubt had in mind, as 
 well as the poems of Ariosto, Tasso, and other Italian romantic 
 
34 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career. 
 
 Till Civil-suited Morn appear, 
 
 Not trickt and frounct as she was wont, 
 
 With the Attick boy to hunt, 
 125 But cherchef 't 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, 
 130 With minute drops from off the eaves. 
 
 And when the sun begins to fling 
 
 His flaring beams, me Goddes bring 
 
 To arched walks of twilight groves, 
 
 And shadows brown that Sylvan loves 
 135 Of pine, or monumental oak. 
 
 Where the rude ax with heaved stroke 
 
 Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, 
 
 Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. 
 
 There in close covert by som brook, 
 
 writers with whom he was very familiar. The use of then for 
 than shows the derivation of the latter form. 
 122. Compare Romeo and Juliet, iii. 2 : — 
 
 " Come, civil night, 
 Thou sober-suited matron, all in black. " 
 
 The use of suit for clothing is common enough now. In U Al- 
 legro, morn was decked out showily. 
 
 124. Attick boy. In Ovid's story, Aurora or the Dawn was 
 in love with Cephalus and went out hunting with him. 
 
 125. Cherchef t. The word survives in the second part of 
 handkerchief. Its formation is similar to that of curfeu. We 
 now write kerchief'd. 
 
 134. Sylvan := Sylvanus, or Pan, the woody god. 
 
 135. Monumental. Another favorite word applied by poets 
 to majestic trees is immemorial. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 35 
 
 140 Where no profaner eye may look, 
 Hide me from day's garish eye, 
 While the bee with honied thie^h. 
 That at her flowry work doth sing. 
 And the waters murmur in a* 
 
 145 With such consort as they keep. 
 Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep ; 
 And let som strange mysterious dream, 
 Wave at his wings in airy stream. 
 Of lively portraiture display'd, 
 
 150 Softly on my eye-lids laid. 
 
 And as I wake, sweet music breath 
 Above, about or underneath, 
 Sent by som spirit to mortals good. 
 Or th' unseen Genius of the wood. 
 
 155 But let my due feet never fail 
 
 140. " Profaner = somewhat, or at all profane = profanis^, 
 if there were such a word. Such is frequently the force in 
 Latin also of what is called the comparative degree : thus senior 
 =r somewhat old, elderly." Hales. 
 
 145. Consort =r musical concert. 
 
 150. The four lines closing with this are somewhat perplex- 
 ing, chiefly because of the insertion of at in the phrase " wave 
 at his wings." The most reasonable interpretation appears to 
 be that which understands a reflection in the airy stream ; the 
 dream hovering over the airy stream sees below his winged 
 movement repeated, and as in Wordsworth, we see — 
 
 "The swan on still St. Mary's Lake 
 Float double, swan and shadow," — 
 
 so here the sleeper's imagination descries the double image. 
 
 151. Breath, i. e. breathe, Melancholy being implored to 
 breathe sweet music as the sleeper wakes ; the word should 
 rhyme with that which follows. 
 
 153. Mortals good = the good of mortals. 
 
36 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 To walk the studious cloisters pale, 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 With antick pillars massy ]3roof. 
 And storied windows richly dight, 
 
 160 Casting a dimm religious light. 
 There let the pealing organ blow, 
 To the full voic'd Quire below. 
 In service high, and anthems clear, 
 As may with sweetnes, through mine ear, 
 
 1^5 Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
 
 And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes. 
 And may at last my weary age 
 Find out the peacefull hermitage. 
 The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
 
 170 Where I may sit and rightly spell, 
 Of every star that heav'n doth shew. 
 And every herb that sips the dew ; 
 Till old exjierience do attain 
 
 156. Studious cloisters pale, i. e. to walk a cloistered 
 inclosure devoted to study and learning. We use the phrase 
 " without the pale of the church," and the word reappears in 
 palings, fences, that is, marking the pale or inclosure. 
 
 157. It has been well said by Mr. Hales that " Milton was one 
 of the latest true lovers of Gothic architecture when the taste 
 for it was declining, as Gray was one of the earliest when the 
 taste was reviving." 
 
 158. If one compares this word with its exact correlative here, 
 antique, he will observe a singular evolution in use. Massy = 
 massive ; proof =r able to bear the great weight resting on the 
 pillars. 
 
 159. Storied windo-ws. Is Milton here referring to win- 
 dows containing scenes and persons depicted on them, or to 
 windows in the clerestory of the church ? 
 
 162. It is comparatively in recent times that quire has 
 become choir. 
 
 164. As =: such as. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 37 
 
 To sorathing like prophetic strain. 
 175 These pleasures Melancholy give, 
 And I with thee will choose to live. 
 
 174. Prophetic. Milton's use of the word was undoubtedly 
 that of his generation, in which the predictive idea was not 
 prominent, but the interpretative. 
 
COMUS : A MASK. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 What is a mask? To find the best illustration 
 we must go to the great period of the English drama. 
 While Shakespeare's plays were being given with very 
 little scenery and with nothing of that gorgeousness 
 of apparatus which now makes a great spectacle, when 
 for instance Henry Irving puts Henry the Eighth on 
 the stage, Ben Jonson was producing masks which 
 brought into requisition the genius of a great archi- 
 tect like Inigo Jones, who built splendid palaces and 
 arches of pasteboard for the representation of these 
 pageants. Moreover, though plays were given some- 
 times at court, they were then as now popular enter- 
 tainments to which one could go on paying the price 
 of admission ; whereas masks were more in the nature 
 of private theatricals ; they were entertainments of a 
 social nature, produced with much elaborateness of 
 scenery, dress, music, and dancing, in honor of some 
 high event as a marriage, a birthday, or the visit of a 
 royal personage. 
 
 The mask was in its composition more akin to the 
 opera than to the play, and perhaps still more like 
 the modern spectacle than either. It was less a rep- 
 resentation of life on a small scale than an allegori- 
 cal picture. In Bacon's Essays there is one entitled 
 Of Masques and Triumj^hs^ which lets one into some- 
 thing of the secret of the attraction which these 
 pageants had for men of learning and imagination. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 39 
 
 When one considers what a great poem Edmund 
 Spenser built on an allegorical basis in the Faerie 
 Queene^ it is not difficult to see how heartily nobles 
 and scholars and poets and artists would enter into 
 the production of one of these masks where poetic 
 representations could make use of supernatural fig- 
 ures, and tableaux could be devised which would give 
 opportunity for rich dresses and beautiful faces to 
 stand for some poetic conceit. It was an exuberant 
 age, and the wealth of the new discoveries in Grecian 
 and Roman civilization was eagerly made use of by 
 poets and dramatists, who appealed by means of it to 
 the eye and the ear as well as to the mind. 
 
 The simple meaning of the word "mask" readily 
 suggests the chief element ; disguise played a very 
 important part, and when we are reading one of Ben 
 Jonson's masks we are at a great disadvantage, for it 
 was not so much what was spoken as the appearance 
 of the figures speaking which interested the original 
 attendants on the mask. The pale page of the book, 
 with the most elaborate description, is a poor equiva- 
 lent for that gorgeous pageant, swelling with pomp 
 and poetic splendor, where poet and architect blended 
 their labor and laid under contribution the ancient 
 world and the world of myth for the building of their 
 vast pasteboard palace of beauty. We catch a 
 glimpse of the brilliant display as we read, and we 
 see that Jonson's learning and poetic fancy made 
 him easily chief in this temporary kingdom of art 
 and letters, as Shakespeare was chief in the dramatic 
 kingdom. Fortunately for us, Shakespeare was build- 
 ing with permanent materials of art ; unfortunately 
 for us and for Jonson's fame, we are able only to 
 drag forth from the debris of those spectacles which 
 
40 COM US: A MASK. 
 
 delighted London, the court, and the great country- 
 seats, snatches of song and graceful addresses, inde- 
 pendent of the setting in which they were placed. 
 
 By and by the mask declined in popularity. The 
 decline was due in part to the gradual indifference of 
 the titled classes to \^hat may be termed poetic 
 splendor, as the great period of national romance 
 subsided, in part to the rise of the Puritan party 
 which beginning in a protest against ecclesiastical 
 authority, raised its head against the state which was 
 allied with the church and broadened its scope to 
 take in all forms of literature and art which seemed 
 to conflict with a severe ideal of life. The theatre, 
 falling under the ban of the Puritans, became for 
 awhile a reflection of a loose society, and as the 
 court became more profligate it cared less for the 
 somewhat fantastic graces of the mask. 
 
 It is interesting to observe therefore the sudden 
 glow of the dying mask under the touch of the young 
 poet who was to be the great Puritan scholar and 
 poet. Coimts was written to accompany a musical 
 composition by Henry Lawes, and was to be per- 
 formed by amateurs at an entertainment given by 
 the Earl of Bridgewater to celebrate his entrance on 
 his oface as Lord President of Wales. The story 
 runs that Lord Brackley, Mr. Thomas Egerton, and 
 their sister Lady Alice once were benighted in Hay- 
 wood Forest when making a journey to some rela- 
 tives, and that Milton based his mask on the incident, 
 but it is quite possible that the poem, whose plot 
 could easily have been invented, gave rise to the 
 story. Milton never gave the name of Comus to the 
 piece, but called it simply A Masque presented at 
 Ludlow Castle.. 
 
COMUS. 
 
 THE PERSONS. 
 
 The attendant Spirit, afterwards in the habit of Thyesis. 
 
 CoMUs with his crew. 
 
 The Lady. 
 
 First Brothee. 
 
 Second Brother. 
 
 Sabrina, the Nymph. 
 
 The chief persons which presented, were 
 
 The Lord Brackly. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Egerton, his brother. 
 
 The Lady Alice Egerton. 
 
 THE FIRST SCENE DISCOVERS A WILD WOOD. 
 
 The attendant Spirit descends or enters. 
 
 Before the starry threshold of Jove's Court 
 My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
 Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd 
 In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 5 Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot. 
 Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care 
 Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here. 
 Strive to keep up a frail, and feverish being, 
 Unmindfull of the crown that virtue gives 
 
 4. Milton's faultless ear led him to detect very delicate dis- 
 tinctions which he observed in pronunciation, and the reader 
 may confidently follow this master, though departing from 
 familiar usage. Here for instance he must read Sgr'ene. 
 
 7. Although pester'd had for its common meaning in Mil- 
 ton's time the sense " crowded," the use of pinfold suggests the 
 possibility that Milton had in his mind the original force of 
 " pester," as applied to the hobbling of animals. 
 
42 COMUS. 
 
 10 After this mortal cliange, to lier true servants, 
 Amongst the enthron'd Gods on samted seats. 
 Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 
 To lay their just hands on that golden key 
 That opes the palace of eternity ; 
 
 15 To such my errand is, and but for such, 
 I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds, 
 With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 
 But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway 
 Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream, 
 
 20 Took in by lot 'twixt high, and neather Jove 
 Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt isles. 
 That like to rich, and various gems inlay 
 The unadorned boosom of the Deep, 
 Which he to grace his tributary Gods 
 
 25 By course commits to severall goverment, 
 And gives them leave to wear their saphire crowns, 
 And wield their little tridents, but this Isle, 
 The greatest, and the best of all the main. 
 He quarters to his bluehair'd deities ; 
 
 30 And all this tract that fronts the falling sun 
 
 16. V^eeds. See U Allegro, line 120. 
 
 17. Mould = earthly material. 
 
 20. High Jove = Jupiter. Neather rrr Nether Jove = Pluto. 
 For the form neather notice beneath. 
 
 23. Unadorned. When Milton does not wish to sound the 
 € in ed he puts an elision mark ( ' ), in place of the letter. 
 
 24. Grace. We all recognize the sense in which this word 
 is used here, when we employ its negative form and speak of 
 disgracing, i. e. degrading an officer. 
 
 25. Severall, in its distributive use. 
 
 27. Neptune as supreme ocean deity wields his great trident. 
 
 29. Blue-hair'd deities =: nereids. Here Milton has trans- 
 lated a Greek epithet. 
 
 30. The occasion of the mask explains what this tract, peer, 
 and nation are. 
 
COMUS. 43 
 
 A noble Peer of mickle trust and power 
 Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide 
 An old, and haughty nation proud in arms : 
 Where his fair off-spring, nurs't in princely lore, 
 
 So Are coining to attend their fathers state, 
 And new- intrusted .scepter, but their way 
 Lies through the perplex't paths of this drear wood, 
 The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
 Threats the forlorn and wandring passinger. 
 
 40 And here their tender age might suffer peril. 
 But that by quick command from Soveran Jove 
 I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard ; 
 And listen why, for I will tell ye now 
 What never yet was heard in tale or song 
 
 45 From old, or modern bard in hall, or bowr. 
 
 Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape, 
 Crush 't the sweet poison of mis-used wine 
 After the Tuscan mariners transform'd 
 Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
 
 50 On Circe's island fell : (who knows not Circe, 
 The daughter of the Sun ? whose charmed cup 
 Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape, 
 
 35. State. Milton uses the word elsewhere, and apparently 
 here, as — chair of state. 
 
 37. See note on line 4. 
 
 39. Passinger. So Milton, and the form carries justifica- 
 tion. 
 
 48. Legend relates that Bacchus transformed into dolphins 
 certain Tuscan or Tyrrhene pirates. 
 
 52. The Comus of Milton is really as here given a modern 
 addition to ancient mythology. In Classic Greek, Comus was 
 first the word for merry-making and then for a band of revel- 
 ers ; the word Comedy is closely connected with it. In later 
 mythology, Comus was the divinity of merry-making, but it re- 
 mained for Milton to add his parentage, and by his poetic power 
 to give him a life such as antiquity had not given him. 
 
44 COMUS. 
 
 And downward fell into a groveling swine), 
 This Nymph that gaz'd npon his clustring locks, 
 
 55 With ivy berries wreath'd, and .his blithe youth, 
 Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son 
 Much like his father, but his mother more, 
 Whom therefore she brought up and Comus nam'd. 
 Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age, 
 
 60 Roving the Celtic, and Iberian fields. 
 At last betakes him to this ominous wood. 
 And in thick shelter of black shades imbowr'd 
 Excels his mother at her mig^htv art, 
 Offring to every weary travailer, 
 
 65 His orient liquor in a crystal glass. 
 To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste 
 (For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst) 
 Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, 
 Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd 
 
 70 Into some brutish form of wolf, or bear. 
 Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat. 
 All other parts remaining as they were ; 
 And they, so perfect is their miser}^. 
 Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, 
 
 75 But boast themselves more comely then before. 
 And all their friends, and native home forget, 
 To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 
 Ther'fore, when any favoured of high Jove 
 Chances to pass through this adventrous glade, 
 
 80 Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 
 I shoot from Heav'n, to give him safe convoy 
 As now I do : but first I must put off 
 
 65. See TJ Allegro, line 16. 
 
 64. The form travailer for traveller is common with Milton 
 and indicates the derivation of the word, for the sense of toil 
 and labor underlies it. 
 
COMUS. 45 
 
 These my sky robes spun out of Iris' woof, 
 And take the weeds and hkenes of a swain, 
 
 85 That to the service of this house belongs, 
 Who with his soft pij)e, and smooth-dittied song, 
 Well knows to still the wilde winds when they roar, 
 And hush the waving woods, nor of lesse faith. 
 And in this office of his mountain watch, 
 
 90 Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 
 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 
 Of hatefull steps, I must be viewles now. 
 
 CoMUS enters with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other, 
 with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of ivild Beasts, 
 but otherwise like men and wom.en, their apparel glistring ; they come 
 in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands. 
 
 Comus. The Star that bids the Shepherd fold. 
 
 Now the top of Heav'n doth hold, 
 95 And the gilded car of day. 
 
 His glowing axle doth allay 
 
 In the steep Atlantic stream, 
 
 And the slope sun his upward beam 
 
 Shoots against the dusky pole, 
 100 Pacing toward the other gole 
 
 Of his chamber in the east. 
 
 Meanwhile welcome Joy, and Feast, 
 
 84. The part of the Attendant Spirit who assumes the dress 
 and appearance of a servant of the house was taken by Henry 
 Lawes, the musician, who furnished the music for the mask. 
 
 97. Milton makes use of the ancient notion which regarded 
 the earth as flat, and encircled by a stream flowing- from south 
 to north along the western coast of Europe, thence east, and so 
 from north to south on the east coast of Asia. 
 
 98. Slope, i. e. aslope. 
 
 100. Gole = goal, and is nearer the derivative spelling, for 
 the word is another form for pole, as marking the end of a race. 
 
46 COMUS. 
 
 Midnight Shout, and Revelry, 
 
 Tij)sy Dance, and Jollity. 
 105 Braid your locks with rosy twine, 
 
 Dropj)ing odours, dropping wine. 
 
 Rigor now is gone to bed, 
 
 And Advice with scrupulous head, 
 
 Strict Age, and soure Severity, 
 no With their grave saws in slumber lie. 
 
 We that are of purer fire 
 
 Imitate the starry quire. 
 
 Who in their nightly watchfuU sj^hears. 
 
 Lead in swift round the months and years. 
 nsThe sounds, and seas, with all their finny drove 
 
 Now to the moon in wavering morrice move, 
 
 And on the tawny sands and shelves 
 
 Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves ; 
 
 By dimpled brook, and fountain brim, 
 120 The wood-nymphs deckt with daisies trim, 
 
 Their merry wakes and pastimes keep ; 
 
 What hath night to do with sleep ? 
 
 Night hath better sweets to prove, 
 
 Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love. 
 125 Come let us our rights begin, 
 
 'T is onely day-light that makes sin. 
 
 Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 
 
 Hail Goddesse of Nocturnal sport 
 
 Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame 
 
 117. Shelves. We are wont to speak of a shelving beach. 
 125. Rights. So Milton, and it is possible that rites is not an 
 exact equivalent. 
 
 128. Goddesse. Observe that in other places Milton has 
 not used the final se. 
 
 129. Cotytto. A more familiar form was Cotys. She was 
 a Thracian divinity, and the orgies in her honor were celebrated 
 on hill tops. 
 
COMUS. 47 
 
 130 Of mid-night torches burns ; mysterious dame, 
 
 That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb 
 
 Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom, 
 
 And makes one blot of all the air. 
 
 Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, 
 135 Wher'in thou ridst with Hecat', and befriend *" 
 
 Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end 
 
 Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, 
 
 Ere the babbling eastern scout. 
 
 The nice morn on th' Indian steep 
 140 From her cabin'd loop hole peep. 
 
 And to the tell-tale sun descry 
 
 Our conceal'd solemnity. 
 
 Come, knit hands, and beat the ground, 
 
 In a light fantastic round. 
 
 THE MEASURE. 
 
 145 Break off, break off, I feel the different pace, 
 Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
 Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees ; 
 Our number may affright : Some Virgin sure 
 (For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
 
 150 Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 
 And to my wily trains ; I shall ere long 
 Be well stock' t with as fair a herd as graz'd 
 About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 
 My dazzling spells into the spungy air, 
 
 155 Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion. 
 And give it false presentments, lest the place 
 And my quaint habits breed astonishment. 
 And put the damsel to suspicious flight, 
 
 144. See U Allegro, hne 34. 
 
 147. Shrouds. See Ezekiel xxxi. 3, and a line in Lowell's 
 Biglow Papers, Second Series, No. vi. 
 
48 COMUS. 
 
 Which must not be, for that 's against my course ; 
 
 160 1 under fair pretence of friendly ends, 
 And well-plac't words of glozing courtesy 
 Baited with reasons not unplausible 
 Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
 A*nd hug him into snares. When once her eye 
 
 165 Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 
 I shall appear some harmles villager. 
 Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 
 But here she comes, I fairly step aside 
 And hearken, if I may her busines here. 
 
 The Lady enters. 
 
 170 Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be 
 true, 
 My best guide now ; me thought it was the sound 
 Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment, 
 Such as the jocond flute, or gamesome pipe 
 Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, 
 
 175 When for their teeming flocks, and granges full 
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, 
 And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath 
 To meet the rudenesse, and swill'd insolence 
 Of such late wassailers ; yet O where else 
 
 180 Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 
 In the blind mazes of this tangl'd wood ? 
 
 IGl. Glozing. Milton uses the word in Paradise Lost, ix. 549: 
 
 " So gloz'd the tempter, and his proem tun'd." 
 Here he anticipates the serpentine notion of temptation, 
 167. Keeps up. It must he remembered that it is late in 
 the nipht. Gear = business. 
 1G8. Fairly = softly. 
 
 180. In Samson Agonistes, line 335, Milton writes : — 
 " Hithei- hath inform 'd 
 Your younger feet." 
 
COMUS. 49 
 
 My Brothers when they saw me wearied out 
 With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
 Under the spreading favour of these pines, 
 
 185 Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side 
 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
 As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
 They left me then, when the gray-hooded Ev'n, 
 Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, 
 
 uto Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 
 But where they are, and why they came not back. 
 Is now the labour of my thoughts ; 't is likeliest 
 They had ingag'd their wandring steps too far ; 
 And envious darknes, ere they could return, 
 
 195 Had stole them from me, else, O thievish Night, 
 Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end. 
 In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars. 
 That nature hung in heav'n, and fiUVl their lamps 
 With everlasting oil, to give due light 
 
 2^ To the misled and lonely travailer? 
 This is the place, as well as I may guess. 
 Whence ev'n now the tumult of loud mirth 
 Was rife, and perfe't in my list'ning ear. 
 Yet nought but single darknes do I find. 
 
 193. Engag'd. A somewhat obscure use of the word. But 
 Milton iu Paradise Lost, ix. 961-963, says, — 
 
 " O glorious trial of exceeding love, 
 Illustrious evidence, example high, 
 Engaging me to emulate ; " 
 
 and the notion, of urging or inviting, here expressed, seems most 
 applicable to this line. By a not vmcommon inversion, the lady 
 says : " Their wandering steps had been drawn on too far, and 
 envious Darkness, thievish Night had stolen my brothers from 
 me." 
 
 203. In prose, the lady would have said that she heard this 
 tumult perfectly. 
 
 204. Single in sight, as opposed to tumult in sound. 
 
50 COMUS. 
 
 205 What might this be ? A thousand fantasies 
 Begin to throng into my memory 
 Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, 
 And airy tongues, that syllable men's names 
 On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. 
 
 210 These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
 The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
 By a strongsiding champion. Conscience. — 
 
 welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope, 
 Thou hovering Angel, girt with golden wings, 
 
 215 And thou, unblemish't form of Chastity. 
 
 1 see ye visibly, and now believe 
 
 That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill 
 Are but as slavish officers of vengeance. 
 Would send a glistring guardian if need were, 
 
 220 To keep my life and honour unassail'd. 
 Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night? 
 I did not err, there does a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 
 
 225 And casts a gleam over this tufted grove : 
 I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but 
 Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 
 I'll venter, for my new enliv'nd spirits 
 Prompt me ; and they perhaps are not far o:ff . 
 
 214. The third form may easily be inferred from the two 
 members of the triad in the previons line. 
 
 217. Again Milton's perfectly tuned ear must be followed in 
 accenting Supreme. 
 
 228. Venter. This pronunciation of venture still lingers in 
 New England. 
 
COM us. 51 
 
 SONG. 
 
 230 Simet EcliOj sioeetest nymjyJi, that liv'st unseen 
 Within thy airy shell 
 By sloio Meander s margent green^ 
 And in the violet imhroiderdj vale 
 Where the love-lorn nightingale 
 235 Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth icell ; 
 Canst thou not tell me of a gentle i:iair 
 That likest thy Narcissus are f 
 O if thou have 
 Hid them in some Jloicry cave, 
 240 Tell me but ichere, 
 
 Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sj^hear, 
 So mayst thou he translated^ to the skies. 
 And give resounding grace to all heav'nUs harmo- 
 nies. 
 
 Enter Comus. 
 
 Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
 245 Breathe such divine inehanting rayishment ? 
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
 To testify his hidd'n residence ; 
 How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
 250 Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 
 At every fall smoothing the Raven downe 
 Of darknes till it smil'd : I have oft heard 
 My mother Circe with the Sirens three, 
 Amidst the flowry-kirtl'd Naiades, ' 
 
 231. Airy shell. As the sea-nymphs were fancied housed in 
 sea-shells, so might Echo be given an airy shell. 
 
 241. Spliear. The spelling throws the word into rhyme. 
 
 251. " That strain again ! It had a dying fall." 
 
 Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act I. sc. i. 
 
52 COMUS. 
 
 255 Culling tlieir potent hearbs, and baleful! drugs, 
 Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, 
 And lap it in Elysium ; Scylla wept. 
 And chid her barking waves into attention. 
 And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause : 
 260 Yet they in pleasing slumber luU'd the sense. 
 And in sweet madnes rob'd it of it self ; 
 But such a sacred, and home-felt delight, 
 Such sober certainty of waking bliss 
 I never heard till now. I '11 speak to her, 
 265 And she shall be my queen. Hail foreign won- 
 der 
 Whom certain these rough shades did never breed 
 Unlesse the Goddes that in rural shrine 
 Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest song 
 Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 
 270 To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 
 Lady. Nay gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
 That is add rest to unattending ears ; 
 Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 
 How to regain my sever'd company 
 275 Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo 
 To give me answer from her mossy couch. 
 
 Comus. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft 
 
 you thus ? 
 Lady, Dim darknes, and this leavy labyrinth. 
 Comus. Could that divide you from near-usher- 
 ing guides ? 
 
 258. In tlie ancient fable, Scylla was represented as an en- 
 chanted maiden, turned into a monster, and surrounded by hiss- 
 ing serpents and barking- dogs, a natural personification of waves 
 dashing against rocks. 
 
 277. In this dialogue of single lines, Milton was following the 
 Greek tragedians. 
 
COMUS. 53 
 
 280 Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 
 Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why? 
 Lady. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly 
 
 Spring. 
 Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, 
 
 Lady? 
 Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick 
 return. 
 285 Comus. Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented 
 them. 
 Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 
 Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present 
 
 need? 
 Lady. No less then if I should my brothers 
 
 lose. 
 Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful 
 bloom ? 
 290 Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 
 Comus. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd 
 Ox 
 In his loose traces from the furrow came. 
 And the swiuk't liedger at his supper sate ; 
 I saw them under a green mantling vine 
 295 That crawls along the side of yon small hill. 
 Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots. 
 Their port was more than human, as they stood ; 
 I took it for a faery vision 
 Of some gay creatures of the element, 
 300 That in the colours of the rainbow live 
 
 And play i' th' ])lighted clouds. I was awe-strook. 
 And as I past, I worshipt ; if those you seek, 
 
 281. Comus instinctively thinks evil. 
 
 301. Plighted = folded. In one of his prose writings Milton 
 says : " She wore a plighted garment of divers colours." 
 
54 COMUS. 
 
 It were a journey like the path to heav'n 
 To help you find them. 
 
 Lady. Gentle Villager, 
 
 305 What readiest way would bring me to that place ? 
 Comns. Due west it rises from this shrubby 
 
 point. 
 Lady. To find that out, good Shepherd, I sup- 
 pose 
 In such a scant allowance of star-light. 
 Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
 310 Without the sure guess of well-practiz'd feet. 
 
 Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green, 
 Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild Wood, 
 And every bosky bourn from side to side 
 My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood, 
 315 And if your stray-attendants be yet lodg'd 
 Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 
 Ere morrow wake, or the low roosted lark 
 From her thach't pallet rouse ; if otherwise 
 I can conduct you, Lady to a low 
 320 But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 
 Till further quest. 
 
 Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, 
 
 And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy. 
 Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds 
 With smoaky rafters, then in tapstry halls 
 325 And courts of princes, where it first was nam'd. 
 And yet is most pretended : in a place 
 Less warranted than this, or less secure 
 I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
 
 313. Bourn. The Scottish form " burn " is still in common 
 use, and in geographical names it is preserved, though its origi- 
 nal meaning of brook is lost, e. g. Bannockbnrn. A brook was 
 often a boundary, so this secondary meaning remains. 
 
COMUS. bb 
 
 Eye me, blest Providence, and square my triall 
 330 To my proportioned strength. Shepherd, lead 
 on. — 
 
 Enter The Two Brothers. 
 
 Elder Brother. Unmuffle, ye faint stars, and 
 thou fair moon, 
 That wontst to love the travailer's benizon, 
 Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, 
 And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
 
 335 In double night of darknes and of shades ; 
 Or if your influence be quite damm'd up 
 With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, 
 Though a rush candle, from the wicker hole 
 Of some clay habitation, visit us 
 
 a^With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light ; 
 
 And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, r\ hy:^l} 
 
 Or Tyrian Cynosure. '^ \!^ 
 
 Second Brother. Or if our eyes 
 Be barr'd that happines, might we bi;t hear . 
 The folded flocks pen'd in their watled cotes, 
 
 345 Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops. 
 Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
 Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 
 'T would be some solace yet, some little cheering 
 In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
 
 350 But O that haples virgin, our lost Sister ! 
 
 Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
 From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and this- 
 tles ? 
 Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, 
 Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
 
 342. The Cynosure is the constellation containing the polar 
 star. 
 
56 COMUS. 
 
 355 Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears. 
 What if in wild amazement, and affright, 
 Or while we speak within the direfull grasp 
 Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? 
 
 Elder Brother. Peace brother, be not over- 
 j exquisite 
 
 36d To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 
 
 For grant they be so, while they rest unknown. 
 What need a man forestall his date of grief. 
 And run to meet what he would most avoid ? 
 Or if they be but false alarms of fear, 
 
 365 How bitter is such self-delusion ? 
 I do not think my sister so to seek. 
 Or so unprincipl'd in virtue's book. 
 And the sweet peace that goodnes bosoms ever. 
 As that the single want of light and noise 
 
 370 (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 
 
 Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, 
 
 And put them into mis-becoming plight. 
 
 Virtue could see to do vMiat virtue would 
 
 By her own radiant light, though Sun and Moon 
 
 375 Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 
 Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude. 
 Where with her best nurse Contemplation, 
 She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings. 
 That in the various bustle of resort 
 
 380 Were all toruffl'd, and sometimes impair'd. 
 
 3G0. A fortune teller would cast a figure to determine future 
 events. We still say fore-east, which is the significance here. 
 
 367. Unprincipled ; that is, so untaught in the elementary 
 studies. 
 
 376. Seeks to. See Deuteronomy xii. 5 ; 1 Kings xi. 24. 
 
 380. To-ruflled. This obsolete form implied in to the mean- 
 ing of " asunder," very much as the prefix " dis " in disrupted, 
 disjointed. 
 
COMUS. 57 
 
 He that has light within his own clear breast, 
 
 May sit i' th' center, and enjoy bright day, 
 
 But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, 
 
 Benighted walks under the mitl-day sun ; 
 
 Himself is his own dungeon. 
 385 Second Brother. 'T is most true 
 
 That musing meditation most affects 
 
 The pensive secrecy of desert cell. 
 
 Far from the cheerfuU haunt of men, and herds, 
 
 And sits as safe as in a senat house, 
 390 For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 
 
 His few books, or his beads, or maple dish. 
 
 Or do his gray hairs any violence ? 
 
 But beauty like the fair Hesperian tree 
 
 Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 
 395 Of dragon watch with uninchanted eye. 
 
 To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit 
 
 From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 
 
 You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps 
 
 Of miser's treasure by an out- law's den, 
 400 And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 
 
 Danger will wink on opportunity. 
 
 And let a single helpless maiden pass 
 
 Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste. 
 
 Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not ; 
 405 1 fear the dread events that dog them both. 
 
 Lest some ill greeting touch attempt the person 
 
 Of our unowned sister. 
 
 Elder Brother. I do not, brother, 
 
 Liferr, as if I thought my sister's state 
 
 Secure without all doubt, or controversy ; 
 410 Yet where an equall poise of hope and fear 
 
 407. Unowned = having- no owner ; a somewhat singular 
 transfer from things to persons. 
 
58 COMUS. 
 
 Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is 
 That I encline to hope, rather than fear, 
 And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
 My sister is not so defenceless left, 
 
 415 As you imagine, she has a hidden strength 
 Which you remember not. 
 
 Second Brother. What hidden strength. 
 
 Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that ? 
 Elder Brother. I mean that too, but yet a hid- 
 den strength 
 Which, if heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own ; 
 
 420 'T is chastity, my brother, chastity : 
 
 She that has that, is clad in complete steel. 
 And like a quiver'd Nymph with arrows keen 
 May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, 
 Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds, 
 
 425 Where through the sacred rays of chastity. 
 No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer 
 Will dare to soil her virgin purity : 
 Yea there, where very desolation dwells, 
 By grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades, 
 
 430 She may pass on with unblench't majesty, 
 Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 
 Some say no evil thing that walks by night, 
 In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen, 
 
 412. Encline. The varying use of e and i in words of this 
 compound appears to be a matter of euphony. 
 
 413. Squint = squint-eyed. 
 
 422, Diana, the chaste goddess, was represented also as a 
 huntress. 
 
 423. Trace. We refer to this use when we speak of retracing 
 our way. 
 
 430. Unblench't = undaunted. One is blenched or blanched 
 (whitened) with fear. 
 432. See for this line Hamlet, Act I. sc. i. line 161. 
 
COMUS. 59 
 
 Blue meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, 
 
 435 That breaks his magic chains at curfeu time, 
 No goblin, or swart faery of the mine. 
 Hath hurtfull power o'er true virginity. 
 Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 
 Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 
 
 440 To testify the arms of chastity ? 
 
 Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, 
 Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste, 
 Wherwith she tam'd the brinded lioness 
 And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought 
 
 445 The frivolous bolt of Cupid ; gods and men 
 
 Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' 
 
 woods. 
 What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield. 
 That wise Minerva wore, unconqueVd virgin, 
 Wherwith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone ? 
 
 450 But rigid looks of chaste austerity. 
 
 And noble grace that dash't brute violence 
 With sudden adoration and blank awe. 
 So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity. 
 That when a soul is found sincerely so, 
 
 455 A thousand liveried angels lacky her. 
 Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 
 And in clear dream, and solemn vision, 
 Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 
 Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants 
 
 460 Begin to cast a beam on th' outAvard shape, 
 The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
 
 457. Vision. A word of three syllables. 
 
 460. Mr. Sprague calls attention to another poetic expression 
 of Milton's philosophy, explanatory of this, in Paradise Lost, v. 
 468-505. Begin here is the subjunctive form. Beam is a 
 beam of light, as used now in the word sunbeam. 
 
60 COMUS. 
 
 And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 
 Till all be made immortal : but when lust 
 By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 
 465 But most by lewd and lavish act of sin. 
 Lets in defilement to the inward parts. 
 The soul grows clotted by contagion, 
 Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
 The divine property of her first being. 
 470 3uch are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 
 Oft seen in charnell vaults, and sepulchers. 
 Lingering and sitting by a new made grave. 
 As loath to leave the body that it lov'd. 
 And link't it self by carnal sensualty 
 475 To a degenerate and degraded state. 
 
 Second Brother. How charming is divine phi- 
 losophy ! 
 Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose. 
 But musical as is Apollo's lute. 
 And a perjDetual feast of nectar'd sweets. 
 Where no crude surfeit reigns. 
 480 Elder Brother. List, list, I hear 
 
 Some far off hallow break the silent air. 
 
 Second Brother. Me thought so too ; what 
 
 should it be ? 
 Elder Brother. For certain 
 Either some one like us night-founder'd here. 
 Or else some neighbour wood-man, or at worst, 
 485 Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 
 
 Second Brother. Heav'n keep my Sister. Agen, 
 agen, and near ! 
 Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 
 
 Elder Brother. I '11 hallow. 
 
 If he be friendly, he comes well ; if not, 
 Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us. 
 
COMUS. 61 
 
 Enter the attendant Spirit, habited like a Shepherd. 
 490 That hallow I should know, what are you ? Speak ; 
 Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. 
 Spirit. What voice is that, my young Lord ? 
 
 speak agen. 
 Second Brother. O brother, 'tis my father 
 
 Shepherd, sure. 
 Elder Brother. Thyrsis ? Whose artful strains 
 have oft delayed 
 495 The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 
 And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale. 
 How cam'st thou here, good swain ? hath any ram 
 Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, 
 Or straggling wether the pen't flock forsook? 
 500 How could'st thou find this dark sequestered nook ? 
 Spirit. O my lov'd master's heir, and his next 
 
 joy, 
 
 I came not here on such a trivial toy 
 As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
 Of pilfering wolf ; not all the fleecy wealth 
 505 That doth enrich these downs, is worth a thoua'ht 
 To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
 But, O my virgin Lady, where is she ? 
 How chance she is not in your company ? 
 
 Elder Brother. To tell thee sadly. Shepherd, 
 without blame, 
 510 Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 
 
 Spirit. Ay me unhappy then my fears are true. 
 Elder Brother. What fears, good Thyrsis? 
 
 Prithee briefly shew. 
 Spint. I '11 tell ye ; 't is not vain, or fabulous, 
 (Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance,) 
 509. Sadly = soberly, seriously, not necessarily sorrowfully. 
 
62 COMUS. 
 
 515 What the sage poets, taught by th' heavenly Muse, 
 Storied of old in high immortal verse. 
 Of dire chimeras, and iuchanted isles, 
 And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to hell, 
 For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 
 
 520 Within the navel of this hideous wood, 
 Innnur'd in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells. 
 Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, 
 Deep skill' d in all his mother's witcheries ; 
 And here to every thirsty wanderer 
 
 525 By sly enticement gives his banefuU cup, 
 
 With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison 
 The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, 
 And the inglorious liken es of a beast 
 Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
 
 530 Character 'd in the face : this I have learnt 
 Tending my flocks hard by i' th' hilly crofts. 
 That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night 
 He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl. 
 Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey, 
 
 535 DoinsT abhorred rites to Hecate 
 
 o 
 
 In their obscur'd haunts of inmost bowres. 
 Yet have they many baits, and guilefuU spells, 
 To inveigle and invite th' unwary sense 
 Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
 540 This evening late by then the chewing flocks 
 Hail ta'n their supper on the savoury herb 
 Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 
 I sate me down to watch upon a bank 
 With ivy canopied, and interwove 
 
 52G. Murmurs = mutteriiigs. 
 532. Bro'w = overlook, as from the brow of a hill. 
 540. By thenrrrby tlie time when. We use the phrase in it''. 
 demonstrative form, as when we say " I shall do it by then." 
 
COMUS. 63 
 
 545 With flaunting honey-suckle, and began, 
 Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, 
 To meditate my rural minstrelsy, 
 Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close, 
 The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, 
 
 550 And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance ; 
 At which I ceas't, and listen'd them a while, 
 Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence 
 Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds, 
 That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep ; 
 
 555 At last a soft and solemn-breathinof sound 
 Kose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, 
 And stole upon the air, that even Silence 
 Was took e're she was ware, and wisli't she might 
 Deny her nature, and be never more, 
 
 560 Still to be so displae't. I was all ear. 
 
 And took in strains that might create a soul 
 Under the ribs of death : but O ere lonof 
 Too well did I perceive it was the voice 
 Of my most honour 'd Lady, your dear sister. 
 
 565 Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear. 
 And O poor hapless nightingale thought I, 
 How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare I 
 Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste, 
 Through paths and turnings oft'n trod by day, 
 
 570 Till guided by mine ear I found the place 
 Where that damn'd wizard, hid in sly disguise, 
 (For so by certain signs I knew) had met 
 Already, ere my best speed could praivent, 
 
 547. Meditate = practise. 
 
 556. Steam. The edition of 1673 reads stream. 
 558. Was took. We are wont to say " I was greatly taken " 
 with this or that. 
 
 573. Praevent. This form suggests the derivation of tlie 
 
64 COMUS. 
 
 The aidless innocent Lady his wish't prey ; 
 
 575 Who gently ask't if he had seen such two, 
 Supposing- him some neighbour villager. 
 Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess't, 
 Ye were the two she mean't ; with that I sprung 
 Into swift flight, till I had found you here, 
 
 580 But furder know I not. 
 
 Second Brother. O night and shades. 
 
 How are ye join'd with Hell in triple knot. 
 Against th' unarmed weaknes of one virgin. 
 Alone, and helpless ! Is this the confidence 
 You gave me Brother? 
 
 Elder Brother. Yes, and keep it still, 
 
 585 Lean on it safely ; not a period 
 
 Shall be unsaid for me : against the threats 
 Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 
 Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm. 
 Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, 
 
 590 Surpriz'd by unjust force, but not enthralFd ; 
 Yea even that which mischief meant most harm, 
 Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. 
 But evil on it self shall back recoil, 
 And mix no more with goodness, when at last 
 
 595 Gather'd like scum, and set'l'd to it self, 
 It shall be in eternal restless change 
 Self-fed, and self-consum'd : if this fail. 
 The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness, 
 And earth's base built on stubble. But come, 
 let's on. 
 
 word from the Latin prcevenire. For the old meaning of pre- 
 vent, notice the collect for 17th Snnday after Trinity. 
 
 580. It is curious that we now say further not furder ; but 
 murder, not murther. 
 
 585. Period. That is, not a sentence of my philosophic 
 speech shall be unsaid, so far as I am concerned. 
 
COMUS. 65 
 
 600 Against tli' opposing will and arm of lieav'n 
 May never this just sword be lifted up, 
 But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt 
 With all the grisly legions that troop 
 Under the sooty flag of Acheron, ^ 
 
 605 Harpyies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 
 'Tvvixt Africa and Inde, I '11 find him out, 
 And force him to return his purchase back, 
 Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 
 Curs'd as his life. 
 
 Spirit. Alas ! good vent'rous Youth, 
 
 610 1 love thy courage yet, and bold emprise ; 
 But here thy sword can do thee little stead ; 
 Farr other arms and other weapons must 
 Be those that quell the might of hellish charms, 
 He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, 
 
 615 And crumble all thy sinews. 
 
 Mde7^ Brother. Why prithee. Shepherd, 
 
 How durst thou then thyself approach so near, 
 As to make this relation? 
 
 Spirit. Care and utmost shifts 
 
 How to secure the Lady from surprisal. 
 Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, 
 
 620 Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd 
 In every virtuous plant and healing herb, 
 That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray; 
 He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing. 
 Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
 
 625 Would sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy, 
 And in requitall ope his leathern scrip, 
 And shew me simples of a thousand names, 
 Telling their strange and vigorous faculties : 
 
 620. Of small regard to see to = insignificant to look at. 
 
66 COMUS. 
 
 Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, 
 
 630 But of divine effect, he culFd me out ; 
 
 The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it. 
 
 But in another country, as he said, 
 
 Bore a bright golden flowre, but not iA this 
 
 soil : 
 Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain 
 
 635 Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon : 
 And yet more med'cinal is it then that moly 
 That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave ; 
 He call'd it haemony, and gave it me, 
 And bad me keep it as of sovran use 
 
 640 'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 
 Or ghastly furies' apparition. 
 I purs't it up, but little reck'ning made, 
 Till now that this extremity compell'd. 
 But now I find it true ; for by this means 
 
 645 I knew the foul inchanter though disguis'd, 
 Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells, 
 And yet came off : if you have this about you, 
 (As I will give you when we go) you may 
 Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 
 
 150 Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood. 
 
 And brandish't blade rush on him, break his glass, 
 And shed the luscious liquor on the ground. 
 But seize his wand, though he and his curst crew 
 Fierce sign of battail make, and menace high, 
 
 655 Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke, 
 Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 
 
 634. Like — i. e. as little valued as known. 
 
 637. When it is remembered that Comus possesses a like 
 power with Circe, the comparison here is sng-gestivc, for moly 
 was the herb that Heruies gave Odysseus for protection against 
 Circe's charm. 
 
COMUS. 67 
 
 Elder Brother. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I '11 fol- 
 low thee, 
 And some good angel bear a shield before us. 
 
 The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of de- 
 liciousness; soft music, tables spread with all dainties. CoMUS 
 appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted chair, to 
 whom he offers his glass, which she2)uts bij, and goes about to rise. 
 
 Comus. Nay Lady, sit; if I but wave this 
 wand 
 660 Your nerves are all chain 'd up in alabaster, 
 And you a statue ; or as Daphne was 
 Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 
 
 Lady. Fool do not boast, 
 
 Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
 With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
 665 Thou hast immanacled, while heav'n sees good. 
 
 Comus. Why are you vext Lady ? why do you 
 frown ? 
 Here dwel no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates 
 Sorrow flies farr : See, here be all the pleasures 
 That fancy can beget on youthfull tlioughts, 
 670 When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 
 Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 
 And first behold this cordial julep here. 
 That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds. 
 With spirits of balm, and fragrant syrups mixt, 
 675 Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone 
 In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena 
 Is of such power to stir up joy as this. 
 To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 
 
 667. From these gates. The notion of a walled town with 
 gates guarded has remained in literature as a symbol of social 
 life, though it is but historical in Christendom. 
 
68 COMUS. 
 
 Why should you be so cruel to your self, 
 
 680 And to those dainty limbs which nature lent 
 For gentle usage, and soft delicacy ? 
 But you invert the cov'nants of her trust, 
 And harshly deal like an ill borrower. 
 With that which you receiv'd on other terms ; 
 
 635 Scorning the unexempt condition 
 
 By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 
 Refreshment after toil, ease after pain. 
 That have been tir'd all day without repast, 
 And timely rest have wanted; but, fair Virgin, 
 
 eno This will restore all soon. 
 
 Lady. 'T will not, false traitor, 
 
 'T will not restore the truth and honesty 
 That thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies. 
 Was this the cottage, and the safe abode 
 Thou told'st me of ? What grim aspects are these. 
 
 695 These ugly-headed Monsters ? Mercy guard me ! 
 Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceiver ; 
 Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence 
 With visor'd falshood and base forgery? 
 And would'st thou seek again to trap me here 
 
 700 With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute? 
 Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets, 
 I would not taste thy treasonous offer ; none 
 But such as are good men can give good things, 
 And that which is not good, is not delicious 
 
 705 To a well-govern'd and wise appetite. 
 
 Comus. O foolishnes of men ! that lend their 
 ears 
 To those budge doctors of the Stoic Furr, 
 
 679. " Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self so cruel." 
 
 Shakespeare, Sonnet I. 
 695. Ugly. Milton spells this word oughly. 
 
COMUS. 69 
 
 And fetch tlieir precepts from the Cynic Tub, 
 Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence. 
 710 Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth, 
 With such a full and un withdrawing- hand, 
 Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
 Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable. 
 But all to please, and sate the curious taste ? 
 715 And set to work millions of spinning worms, 
 
 That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd 
 
 silk 
 To deck her sons ; and that no corner might 
 Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins 
 She hutch't th' all-worshipt ore, and precious gems, 
 720 To store her children with ; if all the world 
 Should in a pet of temp'rance feed on Pulse, 
 Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but 
 
 frieze, 
 Th' all-giver would be unthank't, would be un- 
 
 prais'd. 
 Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd, 
 725 And we should serve him as a grudging master, 
 As a penurious niggard of his wealth ; 
 And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons, 
 Who would be quite surcharg'd with her own 
 
 weight. 
 And strangl'd with her waste fertility ; 
 730 Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with 
 
 plumes. 
 The herds would over-multitude their Lords, 
 The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th' unsought 
 
 diamonds 
 Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 
 
 708. Cynic tub. Diogenes was a Cynic. 
 
70 COMUS. 
 
 And so bestudd with stars, that they below 
 735 Would grow iiiur'd to light, and come at last 
 
 To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 
 
 List, Lady, be not coy, and be not cosen'd 
 
 With that same vaunted name Virginity. 
 
 Beauty is nature's coin, must not be hoarded, 
 740 But must be current, and the good thereof 
 
 Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss, 
 
 Unsavoury in th' injoyment of it self ; 
 
 If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 
 
 It withers on the stalk with languish't head. 
 745 Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown 
 
 In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, 
 
 Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; 
 
 It is for homely features to keep home, 
 
 They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, 
 750 And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply 
 
 The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 
 
 What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, 
 
 Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn ? 
 
 There was another meaning in these gifts, 
 755 Think what, and be adviz'd, you are but young yet. 
 Lady. I had not thought to have unlockt my 
 lips 
 
 In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler 
 
 Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes, 
 
 748. See Shakespeare, Tivo Gentlemen of Verona, Act I., sc. i. 
 line 2. 
 
 751. From house wife to huswife, from huswife to hussy are 
 successive steps in word degeneration. On the eastern shore of 
 Maryland where old English terms linger, one may hear of the 
 hen-hussy, meaning the girl who takes care of the chickens, and 
 an old New England term for a capacious bag holding all man- 
 ner of mending and sewing materials is a huswife, pronounced 
 huzzif. 
 
COMUS. * 71 
 
 Obtruding false rules pranckt in reason's garb. 
 
 760 1 hate when vice can bolt her arguments, 
 And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
 Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature, 
 As if she would her children should be riotous 
 With her abundance ; she, good cateress, 
 
 765 Means her provision only to the good. 
 That live according to her sober laws. 
 And holy dictate of spare temperance : 
 If every just man that now pines with want 
 Had but a moderate and beseeming share 
 
 770 Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury 
 Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 
 Nature's full blessings would be well dispenc't 
 In unsuperfluous even proportion. 
 And she no whit enciunber'd with her store ; 
 
 775 And then the giver would be better thank't, 
 His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony 
 Ne'er looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, 
 But with besotted base ingratitude 
 Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go 
 on? 
 
 780 Or have I said enough ? To him that dares 
 Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 
 Against the sun-clad power of Chastity, 
 Fain would I something say, yet to what end ? 
 Thou hast not ear, nor soul to apprehend 
 
 785 The sublime notion, and high mystery. 
 That must be utter'd to unfold the sage 
 And serious doctrine of Virginity. 
 
 760. Bolt. In an intransitive form, this verb has the same 
 meaning, as when one bolts or shoots out of a room. 
 
 762. The lady's virtue finds tongue in the lines that follow, 
 to answer the specious argument of Comus. 
 
72 COMUS. 
 
 And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 
 More happiiies then this thy present lot. 
 
 790 Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, 
 
 That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, 
 Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't ; 
 Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth 
 Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits 
 
 795 To such a flame of sacred vehemence. 
 
 That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize, 
 And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and 
 
 shake. 
 Till all thy magic structures rear'd so high. 
 Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head. 
 
 800 Comus. She fables not, I feel that I do fear 
 Her words set off by some superior power ; 
 And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew 
 Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 
 Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus, 
 
 805 To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 
 And try her yet more strongly. Come, no more. 
 This is mere moral babble, and direct 
 Against the canon laws of our foundation ; 
 I must not suffer this, yet 't is but the lees 
 
 810 And settlings of a melancholy blood ; 
 
 But this will cure all straight ; one sip of this 
 Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight. 
 Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste. — 
 
 788. Worthy. In Milton's time this word was used either of 
 ill or of good desert, and in the Bible we read of one worthy of 
 few stripes, and one worthy of many stripes. Now we rarely 
 use it of ill desert except in the phrase " worthy of punishment." 
 
 791. Dazzling fence. Rhetoric, in Comus, has been taught 
 a glittering, flashing play of the fencing rapier of words. 
 
 808. Canon laws of our foundation. By an audacious 
 figure, Comus likens his society of brutes to the church. 
 
COMUS. 73 
 
 The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, ivrest his glass out of 
 his hand, and break it against the ground ; his rout make sign of 
 resistance, but are all driven in. The attendant Spirit comes in. 
 
 Sjnrit. What, have you let the false enchanter 
 'scape ? 
 
 815 O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand, 
 And bound him fast : without his rod revers't. 
 And backward mutters of dissevering power. 
 We cannot free the Lady that sits here 
 In stony fetters fixt, and motionless ; 
 
 820 Yet stay, be not disturb'd : now I bethink me, 
 Some other means I have which may be us'd. 
 Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt, 
 The soothest shepherd that e'er pip't on plains. 
 There is a gentle nymph not farr from hence, 
 
 825 That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn 
 stream, 
 Sabrina is her name, a Virgin pure ; 
 Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, 
 That had the scepter from his father Brute. 
 She, guiltless damsell, flying the mad pursuit 
 
 830 Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen, 
 
 Commended her fair innocence to the flood, 
 That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
 The water nymphs that in the bottom play'd. 
 Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, 
 
 835 Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall. 
 Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, 
 And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 
 In nectar'd lavers strew' d with asphodel, 
 
 816. As the wand must be reversed to undo its enchanting 
 power, so the words of the incantation must also be said back- 
 ward. 
 
74 COMUS. 
 
 And through the porch and inlet of each sense 
 
 840 Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she reviv'd, 
 And underwent a quick immortal change, 
 Made Goddess of the River : still she retains 
 Her maid'n gentlenes, and oft at eve 
 Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, 
 
 845 Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signs 
 That the shrewd medling Elf delights to make, 
 Which she with precious viol'd liquors heals ; 
 For which the shepherds at their festivals 
 Carol her goodnes loud in rustic lays, 
 
 850 And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 
 Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 
 And, as the old swain said, she can unlock 
 The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell, 
 If she be right invok't in warbled song ; 
 
 855 For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swift 
 To aid a virgin, such as was her self. 
 In hard besetting need ; this will I try. 
 And add the pow'r of some adjuring versOo 
 
 SONG. 
 Sahrina fair 
 860 Listen where thou art sitting 
 
 Under the glassy^ cool^ translucent tuave^ 
 
 In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
 The loose train of thy amher-droi^ping hair ; 
 Listen for dear honour s sake, 
 865 Goddess of the silver lake^ 
 Listen and save. 
 
 845. Urchin blasts. Elfin, mischievous sudden blight sup- 
 posed to come from pestilential winds. 
 
 84C. Shrewd. The notion of quick-witted is less intended 
 than that of brawling or cursing which resides in the word shrew. 
 
COMUS. 76 
 
 Listen and appear to us 
 
 In name of great Oceanus, 
 
 By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 
 
 870 And Tethys' grave majestic pace, 
 By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 
 And the Carpathian wisard's hook. 
 By scaly Triton's winding shell, 
 And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell, 
 
 875 By Leucothea's lovely hands, 
 
 And her son that rules the strands. 
 By Thetis' tinsel slipper'd feet, 
 And the songs of Sirens sweet. 
 By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 
 
 880 And fair Ligea's golden comb, 
 
 Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks 
 Sleeking her soft alluring locks, 
 By all the nymphs that nightly dance 
 Upon thy streams with wily glance, 
 
 885 Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 
 From thy coral-pav'n bed. 
 And bridle in thy headlong wave. 
 Till thou our summons answer'd have. 
 
 Listen and save. 
 
 Sabrina rises^ attended by ivater-nymphs, and sings. 
 
 890 Bi/ the I'ushy-friJiged hanh^ 
 
 Where groups the willoio and the osier dmik., 
 
 My sliding Chariot stays, 
 27iick set with Agate, and the azurn sheen 
 Of Turhis blew, and emerald green, 
 
 895 That in the cliannell strays ; 
 
 872. Carpathian -wizard. Proteus. 
 
 887. " There is a gentle nymph, not far from hence, 
 
 That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream." 
 
76 COMUS. 
 
 Whilst from off the icaters fleets 
 
 Thus I set my 'printless feet 
 
 O'er the cowslip's velvet head, 
 
 TJiat bends not as I tread ; 
 900 Gentle sivaln, at thy request 
 
 I am here. 
 
 Spirit. Goddess dear, 
 
 We implore thy powerful hand 
 
 To undo the charmed band 
 905 Of true virgin here distrest, 
 
 Through the force, and through the wile 
 
 Of unblest inchanter vile. 
 
 Sahrina. Shepherd, 't is my office best 
 
 To help insnared chastity ; 
 910 Brightest Lady, look on me ; 
 
 Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 
 
 Drops that from my fountain pure 
 
 I have kept of precious cure. 
 
 Thrice upon thy fingers tip, 
 915 Thrice upon thy rubied lip ; 
 
 Next this marble venom'd seat, 
 
 Smear'd with guninis of glutinous heat, 
 
 I touch with chaste palms moist and cold, 
 
 Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 
 920 And I must haste ere morning hour 
 
 To wait in Amphitrite's bowr. 
 
 Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat. 
 
 Spirit. Virgin, daughter of Locrine 
 Sprung of old Anchises' line. 
 May thy brimmed waves for this 
 925 Their full tribute never miss 
 From a thousand petty rills. 
 That tumble down the snowy hills : 
 
COMUS. 77 
 
 Summer drouth, or singed air 
 
 Never scorch thy tresses fair, 
 930 Nor wet October's torrent flood 
 
 Thy molten crystal fill with mudd; 
 
 May thy billows roll ashore 
 
 The beryl, and the golden ore ; 
 
 May thy lofty head be crown'd 
 935 With many a tower and terrace round, 
 
 And here and there thy banks upon 
 
 With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 
 
 Come, Lady, while Heaven lends us grace, 
 
 Let us fly this cursed place, 
 940 Lest the Sorcerer us intice 
 
 With some other new device. 
 
 Not a waste, or needless sound, 
 
 Till we come to holier groulid ; 
 
 I shall be your faithful guide 
 945 Through this gloomy covert wide, 
 
 And not many furlongs thence 
 
 Is your Father's residence. 
 
 Where this night are met in state 
 
 Many a friend to gratulate 
 950 His wish't presence, and beside 
 
 All the swains that there abide. 
 
 With jiggs, and rural dance resort ; 
 
 We shall catch them at their sport. 
 And our sudden coming there 
 955 Will double all their mirth and chere ; 
 Come, let us haste, the Stars grow high, 
 But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 
 
 955. Chere = cheer. For sake of rhyme to the eye appar- 
 ently, since Milton's customary form is chear. See rAllearo, 
 line 98. 
 
78 COMUS. 
 
 The Scene changes., presenting Ludlow town and the Presidents 
 castle ; then come in country dancers, after them the attendant 
 Spirit with the two Brothers and the Lady. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sjnrit. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your 
 l')lay. 
 Till next sun-shine holiday ; 
 960 Here he without duck or nod 
 Other trippings to he trod 
 Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
 As Mercury did first devise. 
 With the mincing Dryades, 
 965 On the lawns, and on the leas. 
 
 This second Song jjresents them to their Father and Mother. 
 
 Nohle Lord, and Lady hright, 
 
 L have hrought ye new delight. 
 
 Here hehold so goodly grown 
 
 Three fair branches of your own; 
 970 Heaven hath timely trid their youth, 
 
 Their faith, their patience, and their truth. 
 
 And sent them here through hard assays 
 
 With a crown of deathless 2^^ttise, 
 To triumph in victorious dance 
 975 O'er sensual folly, and intemperance. 
 
 The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguises. 
 
 Spirit. To the ocean now I fly, 
 And those happy climes that lie 
 Where day never shuts his eye, 
 Up in the broad fields of the sky : 
 980 There I suck the liquid air 
 All amidst the gardens fair 
 
COMUS. 79 
 
 Of Hesperus, and lils daughters three 
 
 That sing about the golden tree : 
 
 Along the crisped shades and bowres 
 985 Revels the spruce and jocond Spring, 
 
 The Graces, and the rosy-bosom 'd Howres, 
 
 Thither all their bounties bring ; 
 
 There eternal Summer dwells, 
 
 And West-winds, with musky wing, 
 990 About the cedar n alleys fling 
 
 Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
 
 Iris there with humid bow 
 
 Waters the odorous banks that blow 
 
 Flowers of more mingled hew 
 995 Then her purfl'd scarf can shew. 
 
 And drenches with Elysian dew, 
 
 (List mortals, if your ears be true) 
 
 Beds of hyacinth and roses. 
 
 Where young Adonis oft reposes, 
 1000 Waxing well of his deep wound 
 
 In slumber soft, and on the ground 
 
 Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen ; 
 
 But farr above in spangled sheen 
 
 Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc't, 
 1005 Holds his dear Psyche Sweet intranc't, 
 
 After her wandring labours long, 
 
 Till free consent the gods among 
 
 Make her his eternal bride. 
 
 And from her fair unspotted side 
 1010 Two blissful twins are to be born. 
 
 Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. 
 But now my task is smoothly done, 
 
 I can fly, or I can run 
 
 1002. Assyrian queen. Venus. 
 
80 COMUS. 
 
 Quickly to the green earth's end, 
 1015 Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, 
 
 And from thence can soar as soon 
 
 To the corners of the Moon. 
 Mortals, that would follow me. 
 
 Love Virtue, she alone is free ; 
 1020 She can teach ye how to clime 
 
 Higher than the spheary chime : 
 
 Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
 
 Heav'n it self would stoop to her. 
 
 1020. Clime, an older form of climb. 
 
LYCIDAS. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 Lycidas was first published as the last of a group 
 of poems in memory of Edward King, a fellow-colle- 
 gian of Milton's, who had written some poems him- 
 self, but was looking to a place as a priest in the 
 Church of England ; he was shipwrecked when on his 
 way across the Irish channel, sailing from England to 
 Ireland. In the volume which was published in the 
 winter of 1637-38, Milton gave no title to the poem, 
 and signed the poem simply with his initials, J. M. ; 
 but when he placed it in his first collection of poems 
 in 1645, he gave it the title it bears. He took the 
 name Lycidas from that of a shepherd in one of Vir- 
 gil's Eclogues. The reader of the Eclogues will note 
 not merely names like Lycidas, Amaryllis, Damsetas, 
 Neaera, which Milton has borrowed from Virgil, but 
 many felicitous phrases which are deft translations 
 from the Eclogues. 
 
 The entire conceit of shepherds and their songs 
 which runs through Lycidas was familiar not only 
 in Roman but in English verse ; but Milton, using it 
 first as a slight veil lo cast over personal associations, 
 lifts the conception into dignity and a grave value 
 above personal lament, by his bitter reproach of the 
 shepherds of the sheepfold of the church. When he 
 republished Lycidas in his own collection, he wrote : 
 " In this Monody the author bewails a learned friend, 
 
82 LYCIDAS. 
 
 unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on 
 the Irish seas, 1637 ; and by occasion foretells the 
 ruin of our corrupted clergy^ then iii their height.^'' 
 The words in italic show how his mind was stirring, 
 and how deeply he was reflecting on the great reli- 
 gious contentions of his country. England was on 
 the eve of civil war, and the firm hand of the ecclesi- 
 astical authorities was lying heavily on many men's 
 consciences. It is not strange, therefore, that the 
 lighter strains which sounded in U Allegro^ 11 Pen- 
 seroso^ and Comus here pass into those organ notes 
 which were to be heard after a score of years fully 
 and in sustained measure in Paradise Lost. 
 
LYCIDAS. 
 
 Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more 
 Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sear, 
 I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
 And with fore'd fingers rude, 
 
 5 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, 
 Compels me to disturb your season due : 
 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime. 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
 
 10 Who would not sing for Lycidas? He knew 
 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
 He must not float upon his wat'ry bier 
 Unwept, and welter to the parching wind. 
 Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
 
 15 Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 
 
 1. Yet once more. Milton was now in the full tide of his 
 first period of verse, and as he attacks this new subject it is 
 with a fresh consciousness of his high poetic errand ; and as the 
 opening lines show, in a figure which disregards strict liter- 
 ahiess of parallel, with a keen sense of the untimely fate which 
 calls out his poetic speech. 
 
 2. The form sear was more common in Milton's time than 
 now when sere prevails, but Scott used sear. 
 
 6. Dear = dire. 
 
 10. Readers of Virgil will note the likeness to neget quis car- 
 mina Gallo in the tenth Eclogue. 
 
 13. "Welter = rise and fall with the waves. 
 
 15. Milton, who looks for his models to classic rather than 
 earlier English verse, follows the almost uniform mode of 
 elegiac verse in this summons to the muses who dwell by Heli- 
 con. 
 
84 LYCIDAS. 
 
 That from beneath the seat of Jove cloth spring. 
 
 Begin, and somewliat loudly sweep the string. 
 
 Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse ; 
 
 So may some gentle Muse 
 20 With lucky words favour my destin'd urn, 
 
 And, as he passes, turn. 
 
 And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 
 
 For we were nurst upon the self-same hill. 
 
 Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. 
 25 Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 
 
 Under the opening eyelids of the morn. 
 
 We drove a-field, and both together heard 
 
 What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 
 
 Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
 30 Oft till the Star that rose, at evening, bright 
 
 Toward Heav'n's descent had slop'd his westering 
 wheel. 
 
 Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 
 
 Temper'd to th' oaten flute, 
 
 Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel 
 35 From the glad sound would not be absent long. 
 
 And old Damaetas lov'd to hear our song. 
 
 16. Milton drew this from the Greek poet Hesiod. 
 
 19. Muse = poet. 
 
 20. The accent in reading should be on my, since the poet is 
 wishing for a future reward of verse for himself, like that he is 
 about to bestow. 
 
 23. It should be remembered that the singer of this monody 
 feigns himself and Lycidas, after the manner of ancient verse, 
 to be shepherds. The actual fact was that they had a common 
 college. 
 
 28. Gray-fly, otherwise the trumpet-fly. 
 
 33. The fiction of shepherd life is continued. In fancy the 
 rude pipe made of straw is played on, the rural ditties being 
 tempered or set to it. 
 
 36. Daniaetas. Theocritus and Virgil used this name for the 
 
LYCIDAS. 85 
 
 But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, 
 
 Now thou art gone, and never must return ! 
 
 Thee Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves 
 40 With wikl thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown. 
 
 And all their echoes mourn. 
 
 The willows, and the hazel copses green, 
 
 Shall now no more be seen, 
 
 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
 45 As killing as the canker to the rose. 
 
 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze. 
 
 Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrope wear. 
 
 When first the white-thorn blows ; 
 
 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 
 50 Where were ye, N3rmphs, when the remor^less 
 deep 
 
 Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ? 
 
 For neither were ye playing on the steep. 
 
 Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, 
 
 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 
 55 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : 
 
 Ay me, I fondly dream I 
 
 Had ye been there — for what could that have done ? 
 
 What could the Muse herself, that Orpheus bore, 
 
 herdsman in their pastorals. It is suggested that Milton was 
 making playful reference to the tutor of King and himself, W. 
 Chappell, of Christ's College. 
 
 38. Must. If Milton had said wilt, he would have implied 
 that Lycidas could but would not ; must declares that he is 
 under constraint. 
 
 41. The echoes are thus made individual voices of nature. 
 
 53. The fact that King was sliipwrecked when making pass- 
 age from England to Ireland explains why Milton thus chooses 
 Welsh headlands and the river Dee (Deva) with their early po- 
 etic associations. 
 
 56. Fondly. See // Penseroso, line 6. 
 
86 ZYCIDAS. 
 
 The Muse herself, for her inchanting son, 
 60 Whom universal nature did lament, 
 
 When by the rout that made the hideous roar, 
 
 His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
 
 Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? 
 Alas ! what boots it with uncessant care 
 65 To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, 
 
 And strictly meditate the thankles Muse ? 
 
 Were it not better done as others use. 
 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade. 
 
 Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair? 
 70 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
 
 (That last infirmity of noble mind) 
 
 To scorn delights, and live laborious days ; 
 
 But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
 
 63. Milton derives from Virgil chiefly the story of Orpheus. 
 He was a famous mythical poet, son of the muse Calliope. So 
 enchanting was his song that he could move trees and rocks and 
 wild beasts. He descended into the lower world after his wife 
 Eurydice, who had died, and so prevailed upon Persephone with 
 his song that she let Eurydice return with him ; but he for- 
 feited her before they reached the upper air through his diso- 
 bedience in looking back upon the passage they had threaded. 
 He was torn in pieces by the Thracian Maenads because of the 
 hatred he inspired by his loss of Eurydice. They cast his head 
 and lyre into the Hebrus, which bore these remains to Lesbos, 
 where they were buried. 
 
 66. Milton's own high devotion to his art is here intimated. 
 There is a Virgilian phrase in the line. Virgil in Eclogue I. 
 line 2, wrote, — 
 
 " Sylvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena," 
 which Sydney Smith jocosely translated, '• We cultivate litera- 
 ture on a little oatmeal." 
 
 67. Use = are wont. We use the past form only in this 
 significance. 
 
 69. Amaryllis, Neaera. These are but names only. The 
 former is a Virgilian remembrance. 
 
LYCIDAS. 87 
 
 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
 75 Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears, 
 
 And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, 
 
 Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears ; 
 
 Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. 
 
 Nor in the glistering foil 
 50 Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies ; 
 
 But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes. 
 
 And perfe't witness of all- judging Jove ; 
 
 As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
 
 Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed. 
 85 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, 
 
 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, 
 
 That strain I heard was of a higher mood ; 
 
 But now my oat proceeds. 
 
 And listens to the Herald of the Sea 
 90 That came in Neptune's plea ; • 
 
 He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds. 
 
 What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? 
 
 And question'd every gust of rugged wings 
 
 74. Blaze. 
 
 " For what is glory but the blaze of fame ? " 
 
 Paradise Regained, iii. 47. 
 
 75. Fury. In ancient mythology, as Milton knew well, it was 
 the office of one of the three fates to snip the thread of life. 
 The nse of fury may have been accidental, or, wanting a dys- 
 syllable, the poet may have used his authority in handling classic 
 traditions — more than once he invents his classic myths — to 
 put the shears into the hands of a blind fury as a more dramatic 
 personage for his purpose. 
 
 79. Foil. Fame, the poet says, is of immortal growth ; nor 
 does it lie either in some shining contrast or in broad rumor. 
 
 81. By = under the light of. 
 
 82. Perfet = perfect, from the French form. 
 
 86. Minciu.s. A remembrance of Virgil, Georgics iii. 13-15. 
 The poet there offers to build a votive offering by the Mincio. 
 
88 LYCIDAS. 
 
 That blows from off each beaked promontory : 
 95 They knew not of his story, 
 
 And sage Hippotades their answer brings. 
 
 That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd ; 
 
 The air was calm, and on the level brine 
 
 Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. 
 100 It was that fatall and perfidious bark, 
 
 Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark. 
 
 That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 
 Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow. 
 
 His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, 
 105 Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
 
 Like to that sanguine flow'r inscrib'd with woe. 
 
 Ah ! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge ? 
 
 Last came, and last did go, 
 
 The Pilot of the Galilean lake ; 
 no Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 
 
 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) 
 
 He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake ; 
 
 96. Hippotades = Mollis, sou of Hippotas. 
 
 97. Was strayed. This form still lingers with us, but it 
 sounds to most a little stiff. It holds, however, in academic use, 
 as when we say a man was graduated from college. 
 
 103. Camus. It will be remembered that King was from the 
 college on the Cam. 
 
 Went = wended his way. 
 
 104. Bonnet. The Scotch still use this word for male as well 
 as female head covering. 
 
 106. Like, i. e. a figure like. Sanguine flowers: the hya- 
 cinth. 
 
 111. To know the uses of the keys one needs but to recall 
 the charge to St. Peter. 
 
 112. Mitred locks. Milton was writing in a time when 
 Episcopacy was a question of the hour. He himself was op- 
 posed to Episcopacy as he saw it, but the true overseeing of 
 souls was another matter, and thus he makes St. Peter a bishop. 
 
LYCIDAS. 89 
 
 "How well could I have spar'd for thee, young 
 
 swain, 
 Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 
 
 no Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ? 
 Of other care they little reck'ning make, 
 Then how to scramble at the shearer's feast, 
 And shove away the worthy bidden guest ; 
 Blind mouths I that scarce themselves know how 
 to hold 
 
 120 A sheep-hook, or have learn 'd ought else the least 
 That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! 
 What recks it them ? What need they ? They are 
 
 sped ; 
 And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 
 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw, 
 
 125 The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed. 
 
 But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw. 
 Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 
 
 114-131. In this terrible indictment by St. Peter of the 
 priestly shepherds of the flock of English souls, Milton pours 
 out with impassioned words his own stern judgment. For the 
 satisfaction of carnal desires such shepherds enter the fold by 
 various doors other than the one door ; for jNIiltou could not for- 
 get the parable of shepherd and fold from the lips of the Great 
 Shepherd. They creep, that is, they enter by intrigue and cun- 
 ning ; they intrude, thrust themselves in with insolence ; they 
 climb, seek ambitiously for their own ends to mount step by 
 step to high dignities. As the bishop is one who by his name 
 oversees, so these are blind ; as the pastor is one who feeds 
 another, so the most unnatural attributes would be blindness and 
 eating, and blind mouths becomes a bold condemnation of iniqui- 
 tous practice in false shepherds. For a striking study of the 
 whole passage from which these points are taken, see Ruskin, 
 Sesame and Lilies, 20-22. 
 
 123. "When they list =: when it is their pleasure. See John 
 iii. 8. 
 
90 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
 Daily devours apace, and nothing said ; 
 
 130 But that two-handed engine at the door 
 
 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." 
 
 Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past. 
 That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, 
 And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
 
 135 Their bells, and flourets of a thousand hues. 
 Ye valleys low, where the mild whisj^ers use. 
 Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 
 On whose fresh lap the swart star sjjarely looks, 
 Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes, 
 
 140 That on the green turf suck the honied showres, 
 And purple all the ground with vernal flowres. 
 Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
 
 128. The grim wolf with privy paw. The reference here 
 is to the accessions which the Romish church was quickly making 
 to itself, through the influence of the court. It is harely possi- 
 ble that Milton was girding at the Privy Council, which with the 
 king was practically the government of the realm, in opposition 
 to the ])arliament. 
 
 130. Two-handed engine. The term engine was used indis- 
 criminately of implements large and small. It took two hands 
 to swing the executioner's axe. 
 
 132. The poet, remembering how far he has been led away 
 from the theme he entered on, makes this sudden transition. 
 The river Alpheus was fabled to have passed under the sea and 
 reissued in Sicily. 
 
 135. Bells, i. e. bell-like flowers. 
 
 136. Use. See line 07. 
 
 138. Swart-star, i. e. the dog-star. 
 
 142. Rathe. This positive has died out of familiar use, but 
 the comparative remains in rather = earlier, sooner. It appears 
 from the manuscript of the poem, preserved at Cambridge, that 
 this passage enumerating the flowers was an afterthought, and 
 elaborated by Milton with great care. 
 
LYCIDAS. 91 
 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
 
 The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, 
 
 145 The glowing violet, 
 
 The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine, 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head. 
 And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 
 Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 
 
 150 And daffodillies fill their cups with tears. 
 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 
 For so to interpose a little ease, 
 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. 
 Ay me ! Whilst thee the shores and sounding 
 seas 
 
 15.5 Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 
 Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
 Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 
 Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 
 Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 
 
 160 Sleep' st by the fable of Bellerus old, 
 
 Where the great vision of the guarded mount 
 Looks toward Namancos and Bay on a' s hold ; 
 Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth. 
 And, O ye dolphins, waft the haples youth. 
 
 165 Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, 
 
 143. Crow-toe hardly sounds as natural to us as crow foot. 
 
 151. Hearse = tomb. 
 
 158. Monstrous world = world of monsters. 
 
 160. Bellerus was an old Cornish giant. 
 
 161. The guarded mount is St. Michael's mount on the 
 coast of Cornwall. 
 
 162. Namancos and Bayona stand for a tower and castle 
 in Spain. 
 
 163. Angel, i. e. St. Michael. 
 
 165. The poet rises above the thought of the dead body, 
 washed hither and thither by the waves, to the imperishable 
 spirit. 
 
92 LYCIDAS. 
 
 For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, 
 Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor ; 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
 
 170 And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky. 
 So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
 Thro' the dear might of him that walk'd the waves, 
 Where other groves, and other streams along, 
 
 175 With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
 Aud hears the unexpressive nuptial song. 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
 There entertain him all the saints above. 
 In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 
 
 180 That sing, and singing in their glory move, 
 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
 Now, Ly(ddas, the shepherds weep no more ; 
 Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore. 
 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
 
 185 To all that wander in that perilous flood. 
 
 Thus sang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills, 
 While the still morn went out with sandals gray. 
 He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, 
 With eager thought warbling his Doric lay ; 
 
 190 And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 
 And now was dropt into the western bay ; 
 At last he rose, and twitch 'd his mantle blew, 
 To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 
 
 168. Day-star =: sun. " Till thy day-star from on high visit 
 me." 
 
 186. Milton here speaks in his own voice, not in that of the 
 feigned shepherd. 
 
 190. Stretch'd out all the hills, i. e. made long shadows. 
 
 193. A line often misquoted, fields being read for ivoods. 
 Milton was on the eve of his departure for Italy. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 I. ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF 
 TWENTY-THREE. 
 
 How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, 
 Stol'n on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 
 My hasting days fly on with full career. 
 But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. 
 5 Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, 
 That I to manhood am arriv'd so near, 
 And inward ri penes cloth much less appear, 
 That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. 
 
 Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, 
 10 It shall be still in strictest measure ev'n 
 To that same lot, however mean or high, 
 
 Toward which Time leads me, and the will of 
 Heaven. 
 All is, if I have grace to use it so, 
 As ever in my great task-master's eye. 
 
 II. TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. 
 
 Addressed to Sir Thomas Fairfax at the siege of Colchester, 1648. 
 
 Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings. 
 Filling each mouth with envy or with praise. 
 And all her jealous monarchs with amaze 
 And rumours loud, that daunt remotest kings, 
 5 Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 
 
 Victory home, though new rebellions raise 
 
94 SONNETS. 
 
 Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 
 Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 
 
 O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand, 
 10 (For what can war, but endless war still breed ?) 
 Till truth and right from violence be freed, 
 
 And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand 
 Of public fraud. In vain doth valour bleed. 
 While avarice and rapine share the land. 
 
 III. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. 
 
 Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
 Not of war only, but detractions rude. 
 Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 
 To peace and truth thy glorious way hast 
 plough'd, 
 5 And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 
 
 Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pur- 
 sued. 
 While Darwen stream with blood of Scots im- 
 brued, 
 And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud. 
 And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much re- 
 mains 
 10 To conquer still ; peace hath her victories 
 No less renown'd than war : new foes arise 
 Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains : 
 
 7. A reaction had come in the Civil War, and the Scotch de- 
 clared for the king ; insurrections were also springing up in 
 Wales, in Kent, and in London itself. This was shortly before 
 the final success of Cromwell. 
 
 2. Written in 1652. 
 
 8. The battle of Dunbar was fought September 3, 1650. 
 
 9 The battle of AVorcester was a year later to a day. It was 
 the crowning success of the Parliamentary army. 
 
SONNETS. 95 
 
 Help us to save free conscience from tlie paw 
 Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 
 
 IV. TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. 
 
 Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old, 
 Than whom a better senator ne'er held 
 The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms re- 
 
 pell'd 
 The fierce Epirot and the African bold, 
 Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 
 
 The drift of hollow states, hard to be spell'd, 
 Then to advise how war may best, upheld. 
 Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold. 
 In all her equipage : besides to know 
 10 Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means. 
 What severs each, thou hast learn't, which few 
 have done : 
 The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : 
 Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans 
 In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. 
 
 V. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT. 
 
 Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose 
 bones 
 Lie scatter 'd on the Alj)ine mountains cold ; 
 
 1. Vane was forty years okl when the sonnet was addressed 
 to him, and one of the most active men in the comicils of the 
 Commonwealth. Fifteen years before he had been a resident 
 in Massachusetts. He was an eager, restless man, of high ideals 
 and noble belief in tolerance. 
 
 10. In this sonnet and that to Cromwell, Milton gives voice to 
 his strong plea for the separation of Church and State. 
 
 14. There may be a distant reference here to the term " eld- 
 est son of the Church " used of the King of Spain. 
 
 1. In January, 1655, the Turin government issued an edict 
 
96 SONNETS. 
 
 Ev'ii them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
 When all our fathers worship't stocks and stones, 
 5 Forget not : in thy book record their groans 
 
 Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roU'd 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moan? 
 
 The vales redoubl'd to the hills, and they 
 10 To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 
 O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway 
 
 The triple tyrant ; that from these may grow 
 A hunder'd fold, who having learnt thy way 
 Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 
 
 VI. ON HIS BLINDNESS. 
 
 When I consider how my light is spent 
 
 Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 
 And that one talent which is death to hide, 
 Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent 
 5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
 My true account, lest he returning chide ; 
 " Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? " 
 I fondly ask : But Patience, to prevent 
 
 That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need 
 10 Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state 
 
 Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
 And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
 They also serve who only stand and wait." 
 
 that the inhabitants of the Piedmont valley, who had for genera- 
 tions held a faith not unlike that of Luther, should conform to 
 the Catholic religion. Three months' time was given them under 
 threat of expulsion. On the seventeenth of April soldiers were 
 let loose on the people and a terrible massacre followed. 
 
 13. Hunder'd. An interesting form in view of the familiar 
 pronunciation. 
 
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