Semichor. While thir hearts were jocund and sublime,

Then all thy life had slain before.

Drunk with Idolatry, drunk with Wine,

And fat regorg'd of Bulls and Goats,

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Chaunting thir Idol, and preferring
Before our living Dread who dwells
In Silo his bright Sanctuary:

Among them he a spirit of phrenzie sent,
Who hurt thir minds,

And urg'd them on with mad desire

To call in hast for thir destroyer;

They only set on sport and play

Unweetingly importun'd

Thir own destruction to come speedy upon them.
So fond are mortal men

Fall'n into wrath divine,

As thir own ruin on themselves to invite,
Insensate left, or to sense reprobate,
And with blindness internal struck.

Semichor. But he though blind of sight,

Despis'd and thought extinguish't quite,
With inward eyes illuminated

His fierie vertue rouz'd

From under ashes into sudden flame,
And as an ev'ning Dragon came,

Assailant on the perched roosts,

And nests in order rang'd

Of tame villatic Fowl; but as an Eagle

His cloudless thunder bolted on thir heads.

So vertue giv'n for lost,

Deprest, and overthrown, as seem'd,

Like that self-begott❜n bird

In the Arabian woods embost,

That no second knows nor third,

And lay e're while a Holocaust,

From out her ashie womb now teem'd

Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most

When most unactive deem'd,

And though her body die, her fame survives,

A secular bird ages of lives.

Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now, Nor much more cause, Samson hath quit himself

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Like Samson, and heroicly hath finish'd

A life Heroic, on his Enemies

Fully reveng'd, hath left them years of mourning,
And lamentation to the Sons of Caphtor
Through all Philistian bounds. To Israel
Honour hath left, and freedom, let but them
Find courage to lay hold on this occasion,
To himself and Fathers house eternal fame;
And which is best and happiest yet, all this
With God not parted from him, as was feard,
But favouring and assisting to the end.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail.
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Let us go find the body where it lies
Sok't in his enemies blood, and from the stream
With lavers pure and cleansing herbs wash off
The clotted gore. I with what speed the while
(Gaza is not in plight to say us nay)

Will send for all my kindred, all my friends
To fetch him hence and solemnly attend

With silent obsequie and funeral train

Home to his Fathers house: there will I build him

A Monument, and plant it round with shade
Of Laurel ever green, and branching Palm,
With all his Trophies hung, and Acts enroll'd
In copious Legend, or sweet Lyric Song.
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,
And from his memory inflame thir breasts
To matchless valour, and adventures high:
The Virgins also shall on feastful days
Visit his Tomb with flowers, only bewailing
His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice,
From whence captivity and loss of eyes.
Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt,
What th' unsearchable dispose

Of highest wisdom brings about,

And ever best found in the close.

Oft he seems to hide his face,

But unexpectedly returns

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And to his faithful Champion hath in place

Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns
And all that band them to resist
His uncontroulable intent,

His servants he with new acquist

Of true experience from this great event
With peace and consolation hath dismist,
And calm of mind all passion spent.

The End.

APPENDIX.

(a)

Specimen of Milton's spelling, from the Cambridge autograph manuscript.

Fly envious Time till thou run out thy race
call on the lazie leaden-stepping howres
whose speed is but the heavie plummets pace
& glut thy selfe wth what thy womb devoures
wch is no more then what is false & vaine
& meerly mortall drosse

so little is our losse

so little is thy gaine

for when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd

& last of all thy greedie selfe consum'd

then long Eternity shall greet our blisse

wth an individuall kisse

and Joy shall overtake us as a flood

when every thing yt is sincerely good

& pfectly divine

with Truth, & Peace, & Love shall ever shine

about the supreme throne

of him t' whose happy-making sight alone

when once our heav'nly-guided soule shall clime

then all this earthie grossnesse quit

attir'd wth starres wee shall for ever sit

Triumphing over Death, & Chance, & thee O Time.