The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems (11 page)

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Authors: John Milton,Burton Raffel

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Literary Collections, #Poetry, #Classics, #English; Irish; Scottish; Welsh, #English poetry

BOOK: The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems
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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,
412

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
424
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
428
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
458
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,

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