Read The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems Online
Authors: John Milton,Burton Raffel
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Literary Collections, #Poetry, #Classics, #English; Irish; Scottish; Welsh, #English poetry
That
403
even to his last breath (there be that say’t)
As
404
he were pressed to death,
405
he cried, “More weight!”
But had his doings lasted as they were
He had been an immortal carrier.
406
Obedient to the moon, he spent his date
407
In course reciprocal,
408
and had his fate
Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain
409
was his increase.
His letters are delivered all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.
410
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER
1631
This rich marble doth inter
411
The honored wife of Winchester,
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A Viscount’s daughter,
413
an Earl’s heir,
414
Besides what her virtues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More than she could own from earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told
415
—alas, too soon,
And so short time of breath,
To house
416
with darkness and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and Fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet;
417
The virgin choir for her request
The god that sits at marriage feast.
418
He at their invoking came
But with a scarce well-lighted flame,
419
And in his garland as he stood
Ye might discern a cypress bud.
420
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
421
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina
422
to her throes.
423
But whether by mischance or blame
Atropos
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for Lucina came,
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoiled at once both fruit and tree:
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languished mother’s womb
Was not long a living tomb.
425
So have I seen some tender slip
426
Saved with care from winter’s nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
427
Plucked up by some unheedy
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swain
429
Who only thought to crop
430
the flower
New shot up from vernal
431
shower.
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Sideways as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew she wears
Prove to be presaging
432
tears
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hastening funeral.
Gentle lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have.
After this, thy travail sore,
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase
Shortened hast thy own life’s lease.
Here besides the sorrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,
433
And some flowers and some bays
434
For thy hearse to strew the ways,
435
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
436
Devoted to thy virtuous name,
Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitt’st in glory,
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess
437
Who after years of barrenness
The highly-favored Joseph bore
To him that served for her before,
438
And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
439
Far within the bosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light.
There with thee, new-welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.
L’ALLEGRO
440
1631?
Hence, loathèd melancholy,
Of Cerberus
441
and blackest midnight born,
In Stygian
442
cave forlorn
Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy!
Find out some uncouth
443
cell
444
Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-raven sings.
There under ebon shades and low-browed
445
rocks
As ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian
446
desert ever dwell.
But come thou, goddess fair and free,
In Heaven yclept
447
Euphrosyne,
448
And by men heart-easing mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more
To ivy-crownèd Bacchus bore—
Or whether (as some, sager, sing)
The frolic wind that breathes
449
the spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a-Maying,
There on beds of violets blue
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew,
Filled her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxom,
450
blithe,
451
and debonair.
452
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks,
453
and wanton wiles,
454
Nods, and becks,
455
and wreathèd smiles
Such as hang on Hebe’s
456
cheek
And love to live in dimple sleek,
Sport
457
that wrinkled care derides,
And laughter, holding both its sides.
Come, and trip it as ye go
On the light-fantastic toe,
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 crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprovèd
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pleasures free,
To hear the lark begin his flight
And, singing, startle the dull
459
night
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled
460
dawn doth rise,
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,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
461
And to the stack
462
or the barn door
Stoutly
463
fierce struts his dames before.
464
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn
From the side of some hoar
465
hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill.
Sometime walking not unseen
466
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate
Where the great
467
sun begins his state,
468
Robed in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries
469
dight,
470
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o’er the furrowed land,