Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, Temper'd to the oaten flute; Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long; And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 36 But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, The willows and the hazel copses green Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear When first the white-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 41 45 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : 50 56 Had ye been there—for what could that have done? When by the rout that made the hideous roar Alas! what boots it with uncessant care 60 66 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 69 74 To scorn delights, and live laborious days; Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies: Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.' 79 84 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 That came in Neptune's plea ; 90 He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd; Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, 95 100 Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe: 105 '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 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain); 110 He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 115 Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! 121 A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least 125 And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 130 135 Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. 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 enamell'd eyes That on the green turf suck the honey'd showers And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 139 Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 145 150 156 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise ; 160 Where the great Vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold, -Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth: -And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth! Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, 165 171 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore waves; Where, other groves and other streams along, 175 There entertain him all the saints above 180 185 Thus sang the uncouth swain totheoaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals grey; He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: 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 blue : To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. J. MILTON. 67 191 ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY Mortality, behold and fear, They preach, In greatness is no trust.' With the richest royallest seed Since the first man died for sin : Here the bones of birth have cried Though gods they were, as men they died!' Here are sands, ignoble things, Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings: Here's a world of pomp and state Buried in dust, once dead by fate. F. BEAUMONT. 10 15 |