Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one,

ARCADES. He's here stuck in a slough and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known, 5

Part of an Intertainment presented to the Countess Death was half glad when he had got him down; Dowager of Derby at Harefield, by some noble perFor he had, any time this ten years full,

sons of her family, who appear on the scene in Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. pastoral habit, moving toward the seat of state,

with this Song.
And surely Death could never have prevailid,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; 10

I. SONG.
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come, LOOK, Nymphs and Shepherds, look,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn;

What sudden blaze of majesty
In the kind office of a chamberlain

Is that which we from hence descry, Show'd him his room where he must lodge that Too divine to be mistook : night, 15 This, this is she

5 Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light: To whom our vows and wishes bend; If any ask for him, it shall be said,

Here our solemn search hath end. * Hobson has supp'd, and's newly gone to bed.'

Fame, that, her high worth to raise,
Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse;
We may justly now accuse

10
Of detraction from her praise;

Less than half we find express'd,

Envy bid conceal the rest.
Mark, what radiant state she spreads,
In circle round her shining throne,

15
Shooting her beams like silver threads;

This, this is she alone,
ANOTHER ON THE SAME.

Sitting like a goddess bright,

In the centre of her light. HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove

Might she the wise Latona be,

20 That he could never die, while he could move;

Or ihe tower'd Cybele,
So hung his destiny, never to rot
While he might still jog on and keep his trot,

Mother of a hundred gods;

5 Made of sphere-metal, never to decay

Juno dares not give her odds: Until his revolution was at stay.

Who had thought this clime had held

25 Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime

A deity so unparallel'd ?
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And, like an engine mov'd with wheel and weight,

As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood
His principles being ceas'd, he ended straight. 10 uppears, and turning towards them, speaks.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;

GENIUS.
Nor were it contradiction to affirm,

STAY, gentle Swains; for, though in this disguise, Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.

I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes; Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd, 15

Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; Of that renowned flood, so often sung, Nay,'quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,

Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluice

30
If I'mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse;
But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, And ye, the breathing roses of the wood,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers.' 20 Fair, silver-buskind Nymphs, as great and good ;
Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, I know, this quest of yours, and free intent,
He died for heaviness that his cart went light; Was all in honour and devotion meant

35
His leisure told him that his time was come, To the great mistress of yon princely shrine,
And lack of load made his life burdensome, 24

Whom with low reverence I adore as mine; That even to his last breath, (there be that say't)

And with all helpful service will comply,
As he were press'd to death, he cried, More To further this night's glad solemnity,
But, had his doings lasted as they were, [weight

And lead ye, where ye may more near behold 40
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date,

What shallow-searching Fame hath left untold;

Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone, In course teciprocal, and had his fate

30

Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon : Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,

For know, by lot from Jove, I am the Power
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase :

Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower, 45
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.

To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove
With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
And all my plants I save from nightly ill

Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill: Hobson was a carrier, and the first man in this island * This poem is only part of an Entertainment, or who let out hackney-horses. He lived in Cam- Mask, the rest probably being of a different nature, bridge ; and observing that the scholars rid hard, or composed by a different hand. This Countess his manner was, to keep a large stable of horses, Dowager of Derby, to whom it was presented, must with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the gentle- have been Alice, daughter of Sir John Spencer of men at once, without going from college to college Althorp, Northamptonshire, and widow of Ferdito borrow, as they have done since the death of this nando Stanley, the fifth Earl of Derby. And as worthy man: I say, Mr. Hobson kept a stable of Harefield is in Middlesex, and, according to Camforty good cattle, always

ready and fit for travelling: den, lieth a little to the north of Uxbridge, we may but when a man came for a horse, he was led into conclude, that Milton made this poem while he the stable, where there was great choice; but he resided in that neighbourhood with his father at obliged him to take the horse which stood next to Horton near Colebrooke. It should seem too, that the stable-door, so that every customer was alike it was made before the Mask at Ludlow, as it is a well served, according to his chance, and every horse more imperfect essay. And Frances, the second ridden with the same justice. From whence it daughter of this Countess-dowager of Derby, being became a proverb, when what ought to be your married to John Earl of Bridgewater, before whom election was forced upon yoa, to say, Hobson's choice. was presented the Mask at Ludlow, we may conThis memorable man stands drawn in fresco at an ceive in some measure how Milton was induced to inn (which he used) in Bishopsgate-street, with a compose the one after the other. The alliance behundred pound bag under his arm, with this in- tween the families naturally and easily accounts scription upon the said bag,

for it : and in all probability, the Genius of the wood
in this poem, as well as the attendant Spirit in the
Mask, was Mr. Henry Lawes, who was the great

master of music at that time, and taught most of
The fruitful mother of a hundred more." the young nobility,

And from the boughs brush off the evil dew, 50 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year: 6
And heal the arms of thwarting thunder blue, Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Or what the cross, dire-looking planet smites, Compels me to disturb your season due:
Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites. For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
When evening gray doth rise, I fetch my round Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground; 55 Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 10
And early, ere the odorous breath of morn

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Awakes the slumb'ring leaves, or tasseld horn He must not float upon his watery bier
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Number my ranks, and visit every sprout

Without the meed of some melodious tear. With puissant words, and murmurs made to bless : Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 15 But else in deep of night, when drowsiness 61 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I

Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. To the celestial Syrens' harmony,

Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse: That sit upon the nine infolded spheres,

So may some gentle Muse
And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 65 With lucky words favour my destin'd urn; 20
And turn the adamantine spindle round,

And, as he passes, turn,
On which the fate of Gods and Men is wound. And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie,

For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill,
To lull the daughters of Necessity,

Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill. And keep unsteady Nature to her law,

70 Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 25 And the low world in measur'd motion draw Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, After the heavenly tune, which none can hear We drove afield, and both together heard Of human mold with gross, unpurged ear;

What tinie the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, And yet such music worthiest were to blaze Battening our flocks, with the fresh dews of night, The peerless height of her immortal praise, 75 Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright, 30 Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit,

Tow'ard Heaven's descent had slop'd his west'ring If my inferior hand or voice could hit

wheel. Inimitable sounds: yet, as we go,

Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can show,

Temper'd to th' oaten flute; I will assay, her worth to celebrate,

80 Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fawns with cloven heel And so attend ye toward her glittering state; From the glad sound would not be absent long ; 35 Where ye may all, that are of noble stem,

And old Dametas lov'd to hear our song. Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem.

But, О the heavy change, now thou art gone,

Now thou art gone, and never must return!
II. SONG.

Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert

caves, O'er the smooth enamellid green,

With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, Where no print of step hath been, 85 And all their echoes mourn:

091 Follow me, as I sing.

The willows, and hazel copses green,
And touch the warbled string,

Shall now no more be seen,
Under the shady roof

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. Of branching elm star-proof.

As killing as the canker to the rose,

45 Follow me;

90

Or taint-worm to the weanling-herds that graze, I will bring you where she sits,

Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, Clad in splendour, as befits

When first the white-thorn blows;
Her deity.

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear.
Such a rural Queen

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless AU Arcadia hath not seen.

95
deep

50
Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ?
III. SONG

For neither were ye playing on the steer,

Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nymphs and Shepherds, dance no more Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, By sandy Ladon's lified banks ;

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : 55 On old Lycæus, or Cyllene hoar,

Ay me! I fondly dream! Trip no more in twilight ranks;

Had ye been there-for what could that have done? Though Erymanth your loss deplore,

100

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, A better soil shall give ye thanks.

The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, From the stony Mænalus

Whom universal Nature did lament,

60 Bring your flocks, and live with us; Here ye shall have greater grace,

When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,

His gory visage down the stream was sent, To serve the Lady of this place.

105 Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were,

Alas! what boots it with incessant care
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.
Such a rural Queen

To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade, 65

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ?
All Arcadia hath not seen.

Were it rot better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

69 LYCIDAS.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise,

(That last infirmity of noble mind) In this Monody, the author bewails a learned friend,

To scorn delights, and live laborious days; unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chesler But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,

74 on the Irish seas, 1637: and by occasion foretells And think to burst out into sudden blaze, the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.

Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears,

And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, YET once more, 0 ye laurels, and once more

Phæbus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears; Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere,

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, I coine to pluck your berries harsh and crude ;

Nor in the glist'ring foil,
And, with forc'd fingers rude,

Set off' to' the world, nor in broad rumour lies; 80
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove • This poem was made upon the unfortunate and As he pronounces lastly on each deed, untimely death of Mr. Edward King, son of Sir Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed. 81 John King, Secretary for Ireland, a fellow-colle- O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, gian and intimate friend of Milton, who, as he was Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, going to visit his relations in Ireland, was drowned That strain I heard was of a higher mood : Aug. 10, 1637, in the 25th year of his age. This But now my oat proceeds, poem is with great judgment made of the pastoral And listens to the herald of the sea kind, as both Mr. King and Milton had been de- That came in Neptune's plea;

90 signed for holy orders and the pastoral care, which He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, gives a peculiar propriety to several passages in it. What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?

rills,

And question'd every gust of rugged winds, Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
That blows from off each beaked promontory: Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,
They knew not of his story;

95 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good And sage Hippotades their answer brings,

To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185 That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd, Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and

The air wig calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.

While the still morn went out with sandals gray, It was that fatal and perfidicus bark,

100

He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: That sank so low that sacred head of thine.

And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, And now was dropp'd into the western bay; 191 His mantle nairy, and his bonnet sedge,

At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue: Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105 To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. Like to that sanguine flower 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; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 110 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain, UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT.. Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115

BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate-Lord, Of other care they little reck'ning make,

And with stiff vows renounc'd his Liturgy, Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,

To seize the widow'd whore Plurality And shove away the worthy bidden guest;

From them whose sin ye en vied, not abhorrid ; Blind mouths!' that scarce themselves know how

Dare ye for this ahjure the civil sword

5 to hold

To force our consciences that Christ set free, A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least

And ride us with a classic hierarchy, t That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ; 121

Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ? + What recks it them? What need they? They are

Men, whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, sped ;

Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs Must now be named and printed Heretics 11 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;

By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call: The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 125 But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,

But

we do hope to find out all your tricks, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread :

Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent;

That so the Parliament 15 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw

May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Daily devours apace, and nothing said: But that two-handed engine at the door 130

Clip your phylacteries, though bålk your ears,

And succour our just fcars, Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. When they shall read this clearly in your charge, Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past,

New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.' 20 That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. 135 Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enameli'd eyes, 139

THE FIFTH ODE OF HOKACE, Lib. I. That on the green-turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.

Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, rendered almost Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,

word for word without rhyme, according to the The tufted crow-loe, and pale jessamine,

Latin measure, as near as the language will per The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,

mit. The glowing violet,

145 The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine,

WHAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours,

Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears :

Pyrrha? for whom bind'st thou
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,

In wreaths thy goiden hair, And daffodillies fill their caps with tears, 150

Plain in thy neatness ? O, how oft shall he '5 To strew the Laureat herse where Lycid lies.

On faith and changed gods complain, and seas For, so to interpose a little ease,

Rough with black winds, and storms
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.

Unwonted shall admire !
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 155
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant, always amiable

10 Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,

160 Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount,

To whom thou' untried seem'st fair! Me, in my

vow'd Looks tow'rů Namancos and Bayona's hold;

Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung Look horneward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth; And, 0 ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

My dank and dropping weeds Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no

To the stern god of sea. more,

165 For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,

* This poem is supposed to have been made Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;

when the Directory was established, and disputes So sinks the day-star in the ocean

bed,

ran high between the Presbyterians and IndepenAnd yet anon repairs his drooping head,

dents in 1615, the latter pleading for a toleration, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore

and the former against it. Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: 171 + In the Presbyterian form of government there So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, (waves, are congregational, classical, provincial, and na. Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the tional assemblies. Where other groves and other streams along.

# It is not known who is meant by A. S. Mr. With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 175 Samuel Rotherford was Professor of Divinity at And hears th' unexpressive nuptial song,

St. Andrew's, and one of the Scotch commissioners In the bless'd kingdoms meek of joy and love. to the Westminster assembly. There entertain him all the saints above,

Mr. Thomas Edwards, author of the Gangræna. In solemn troops, and sweet societies,

i Either Mr. Alexander Henderson or Nir. That sing, and, singing, in their glory move, 180 George Gillespie, both commissioners to the WestAnd wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.

minster assembly.

SONNETS.

Numb'ring good intellects; now seldom por'd on. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 5 Cries the stan reader, Bless us! what a word on 5 Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod; A title page is this! and some in file

But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Milen Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever.

End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon, Love led them on; and Faith, who knew them best Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp *

Thy hand-maids, clad them o'er with purple Those rugged names to our like mouths grow

beams

10 sleek,

10 And azure wings, that up they flew so dressid, That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp; And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek,

Before the Judge: who thenceforth bid thee rest, #ated not learning worse than toad or asp,

And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. When thou taugh'st Cambridge, and king Ed.

ward, Greek.

TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX.

ON THE SAME.
I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs

By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me

Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs :
As when those hinds that were transform’d to frogs

Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee.

But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,

And still revolt when truth would set them free.

License they mean when they cry Liberty; 11
For who loves that, must first be wise and good :

But from that mark how far they rove we see,
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.

FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe

rings,
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,

And all her jealous monarchs with amaze.
Thy firm, unshaken virtue, ever brings

kings: 5
Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays

Her broken league, to imp their serpent wings. O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand,

(For what can war but endless war still breed?)

Till truth and right from violence be freed, 11
And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand

Of public fraud. In vain doth valour bleed,
While Avarice and Rapine share the land.

TO Mr. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS, 1645.4 HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song

First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas' ears, committing short and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng:

With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man,
That with smooth air could humour best our
tongue.

[wing Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her To honour thee, the priest of Phæbus' quire, 10

That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story.
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher

Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.

TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL.
CROMWELL, our chief of men, who thro'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.
And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 5

Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued,
While Derwen stream, with blood of Scots im-

brued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains

To conquer still; Peace hath her victories 10

No less renown'd than War: new foes arise
Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular chains:

Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.

On the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thom

son, my Christian Friend, deceased 16th of December, 1646.9

TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee

never, Had ripend thy just soul to dwell with God,

VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old,

Than whom a better senator ne'er held Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load

(pellid Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth sever.

The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, reThe fierce Epirot, and th' African bold, Whether to settle peace, or to unfold

5 been before. He published his Tetrachordon, or

The drift of hollow States hard to be spell'd; Expositions upon the four chief places in Scripture,

Then to advise how War may, best upheld, which treat of marriage, or nullities in marriags, In all her equipage : besides to know

Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,

9 in 1645. * “ We may suppose, (says Dr. Newton) that

Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, these were persons of note and eminence among

What severs each, thou' hast learn'd, which few the Scotch ministers who were for pressing and

have done: enforcing the covenant." Mr. George Gillespie,

The bounds of either sword to thee we owe; here wrongously named Galasp, was one of the

Therefore on thy firm hand religion leans Scotch commissioners to the Westminster assembly.

In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. But who the other persons were is not known. It appears from this sonnet, and the verses on the counts of Milton's life, that when he was first made forcers of conscience, that Milton treats the Presby- Latin Secretary, he lodged at one Thomson's, next terians with great contempt.

door to the Bull-head tavern at Charing-cross. + This Gentleman was the first Professor of the This Mrs. Thomson, therefore was, in all probabil. Greek tongue in the University of Cambridge, and ity, one of that family." was highly instrumental in bringing that language * This sonnet appears, from the manuscript, to into repute. He was afterwards made one of the have been addressed to Gen. Fairfax, at the siege tutors to Edward VI.

of Colchester, which was carried on in the summer, # This Mr. Henry Lawes was a gentleman of 1648. the king's chapel, and one of his band of music, + In the Author's manuscript is this inscription : and an intimate friend of Milton.

To the Lord General Cromwell, May 1652. On the “Who this Mrs. Thomson was, (says Dr. New-proposals of certain ministers at the committee for ton) we cannot be certain; but I find in the ac. propagation of the Gospel.