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, Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd: Yea, even that, which mischief meant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory: But evil on itself shall back recoil,
And mix no more with goodness; when at last Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed, and self-consum'd: if this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And Earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on.
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600 May never this just sword be lifted up; But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt With all the grissly legions that troop Under the sooty flag of Acheron, Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll 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. Spir.
Alas! good venturous youth, I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise ; But here thy sword can do thee little stead; Far other arms and other weapons must
Be those, that quell the might of hellish charms: He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, And crumble all thy sinews. El. Br. Why pr'ythee, shepherd, How durst thou then thyself approach so near, As to make this relation? Spir.
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates Sorrow flies far: see, here be all the pleasures, That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, 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 syrops mix'd; Not that nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, 620 Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. Why should you be so cruel to yourself, And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 680 For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
Care, and utmost shifts, How to secure the lady from surprisal, Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, 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 Would sit and hearken even to ecstasy, And in requital ope his leathern scrip, And show me simples of a thousand names, Telling their strange and vigorous faculties: Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, But of divine effect, he cull'd me out; The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil: Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon : And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly, That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave; He call'd it hæmony, and gave
And bade me keep it as of sovran use
But you invert the covenants of her trust, And harshly deal like an ill borrower With that which you receiv'd on other terms; Scorning the unexempt condition,
By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 630 Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
'Gainst all enchantments, mildew, blast, or damp, Or ghastly furies' apparition.
I purs'd it up, but little reckoning made,
Till now that this extremity compell'd: But now I find it true; for by this means I knew the foul enchanter 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 Boidly assault the necromancer's hall; Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
And brandish'd blade, rush on him; break his glass,
That have been tir'd all day without repast, And timely rest have wanted; but, fair virgin, This will restore all soon.
Lad. 'Twill not, false traitor! "Twill not restore the truth and honesty, That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies. Was this the cottage, and the safe abode, Thou toldst me of? What grim aspects are these, These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me! Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul de
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence. Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the Earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste? 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'd the all-worshipt ore, and precious gems,
To store ber children with: if all the world Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,
The All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd,
Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd: 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 strangled with her waste fertility;
The Earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd with plumes, 730
The herds would over-multitude their lords, The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds
Would so imblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Would grow inur'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, But must be current; and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself; If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. 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, 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; Think what, and. be advis'd; you are but young yet.
Lad. I had not thought to have unlock'd my lips In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, Obtruding false rules prank'd in reason's garb. I 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, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More happiness than this thy present lot. Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinc'd: Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 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. Com. She fables not; I feel that I do fear Her words set off by some superior power; And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus,
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 'tis but the lees 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.
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father brute. She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That staid 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, Bearing her straight to aged Nercus' 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; And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she reviv'd, And underwent a quick immortal change, Made goddess of the river: still she retains Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs That the shrewd meddling elfe delights to make, Which she with precious vial'd liquors heals; For which the shepherds at their festivals Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
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 numming spell,
If she be right invok'd in warbled song;
For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a virgin, such as was herself,
In hard-besetting need; this will I try,
And add the power of some adjuring verse.
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen for dear honour's sake, Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen, and save.
Listen, and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus;
By the Earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 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, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, And the songs of Syrens sweet, By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rock, Sleeking her soft alluring locks; By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head, From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answer'd have.
My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
That in the channel strays; Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread; Gentle swain, at thy request, I am here.
Sp. Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand To undo the charmed band
Of true virgin here distrest,
Through the force, and through the wile, Of unblest enchanter vile.
Sabr. Shepherd, 'tis my office best To help ensnared chastity: 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 finger's tip Thrice upon thy rubied lip: Next this marble venom'd seat,
Smear'd with gums of glutinous heat,
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold :
Now the spell hath lost his hold;
And I must haste, ere morning hour,
To wait in Amphitrite's bower.
Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.
Sp. Virgin, daughter of Locrine
Sprung of old Anchises' line,
May thy brimmed waves for this
Their full tribute never miss
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills: Summer drought, or singed air, Never scorch thy tresses fair, Nor wet October's torrent flood Thy molten crystal fill with mud; May thy billows roll ashore The beryl and the golden ore; May thy lofty head be crown'd
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, Lest the sorcerer us entice With some other new device. Not a waste or needless sound, Till we come to holier ground; I shall be your faithful guide 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 His wish'd presence; and beside All the swains, that there abide, With jigs and rural dance resort; We shall catch them at their sport, And our sudden coming there Come, let us haste, the stars grow high, Will double all their mirth and cheer: But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
Waters the odorous banks, that blow Flowers of more mingled hew Than her purfled scarf can show; And drenches with Elysian dew (List, mortals, if your ears be true) Beds of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits the Assyrian queen : But far above in spangled sheen Celestial Cupid, her fam'd son, advanc'd, Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranc'd. After her wandering labours long, Till free consent the Gods among Make her his eternal bride, And from her fair unspotted side 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,
Quickly to the green earth's end,
Where the boy'd welkin slow doth bend;
The first Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, Man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise wherein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his fall, the Serpent, or rather Satan in the serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven, with all his crew, into the great deep. Which action passed over, the poem hastens into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his angels now falling into Hell described here, not in the center (for Heaven and Earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed) but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos here Satan with his angels lying on the burning lake, thunder-struck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall; Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded. They rise; their numbers; array of battle; their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven, but tells them lastly of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy, or report in Heaven; for, that angels were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the deep: the infernal peers there sit in council.
1000 Or Man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning, how the Heavens and Earth Rose out of Chaos: Or, if Sion hill
1010 Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd Fast by the oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and, with mighty wings out-spread, Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine; what is low, raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from thy view, Nor the deep tract of Hell; say first, what cause Mov'd our grand parents, in that happy state, Favour'd of Heaven so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world besides? Who first seduc'd them to that foul revolt? The infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile, Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceiv'd The mother of mankind, what time his pride Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host Of rebel angels; by whose aid, aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers, He trusted to have equalled the Most High, If he oppos'd; and, with ambitious aim Against the throne and monarchy of God, Rais'd impious war in Heaven, and battle proud, With vain attempt. Him the Almighty power, Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky, With hideous ruin and combustion, down To bottomless perdition; there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf, Confounded, though immortal: but his doom Reserv'd him to more wrath! for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes, That witness'd huge affliction and dismay, Mix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate; At once, as far as angels ken, he views
The dismal situation, waste and wild;
A dungeon horrible on all sides round,
Cloth'd with transcendent brightness, didst outsh Myriads though bright! If he whom mutual leag United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd In equal ruin into what pit thou seest From what height fall'n, so much the stronger pros He with his thunder: and till then who knew The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those Nor what the potent Victor in his rage Can else inflict, do I repent or change, Though chang'd in outward lustre, that fix'd mind And high disdain from sense of injur’d merit, That with the Mightiest rais'd me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of spirits arm'd,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven, And shook his throne. [What though the field b lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield, And what is else not to be overcome; That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power Who from the terrour of this arm so late Doubted his empire; that were low indeed, That were an ignominy, and shame beneath This downfall: since by fate the strength of Gods And this empyreal substance cannot fail, Since through experience of this great event In arms not worse, in foresight much advanc'd, We may with more successful hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternal war, Irreconcileable to our grand foe, Who now triumphs, and, in the excess of joy Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of Heaven."
So spake the apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair : And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. "O prince, O chief of many throned powers, That led the embattled seraphim to war
As one great furnace flam'd; yet from those flames Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
No light; but rather darkness visible, Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell; hope never comes That comes to all: but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsum'd: Such place eternal Justice had prepar'd For those rebellious; here their prison ordain'd In utter darkness, and their portion set As far remov'd from God and light of Heaven, As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole. O, how unlike the place from whence they fell! There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, He soon discerns; and weltering by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd Beelzebub. To whom the arch-enemy, And thence in Heaven call'd Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence, thus began.
"If thou beest he; but O, how fall'n! how chang'd
From him, who in the happy realms of light,
Fearless, endanger'd Heaven's perpetual king, And put to proof his high supremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate; Too well I see, and rue the dire event, That with sad overthrow, and foul defeat, Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as gods and heavenly essences Can perish for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigour soon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery. But what if he our conqueror (whom Of force believe almighty, since no less Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours) Have left us this our spirit and strength entire Strongly to suffer and support our pains, That we may so suffice his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate'er his business be, Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy deep; What can it then avail, though yet we feel Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել » |