The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems (157 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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Now blind, disheart’ned, shamed, dishonored, quelled,
7578

To what can I be useful? wherein serve

My nation, and the work from Heav’n imposed,

But to sit idle on the household hearth,

A burdenous drone? to visitants a gaze,
7579

Or pitied object, these redundant
7580
locks

Robustious
7581
to no purpose clust’ring down,

Vain monument of strength, till length of years

And sedentary numbness craze
7582
my limbs

To a contemptible old age obscure.

Here rather let me drudge and earn my bread,

Till vermin or the draff
7583
of servile food

Consume me, and oft-invocated death

Hast’n the welcome end of all my pains.

MAN. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift

Which was expressly giv’n thee to annoy
7584
them?

Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle—

Inglorious, unemployed,
7585
with age out-worn.

But God who caused a fountain at thy prayer

From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay

After the brunt
7586
of battle,
7587
can as easy

Cause light again within thy eyes to spring,

Wherewith to serve Him better than thou hast.

And I persuade me so. Why else this strength

Miraculous yet remaining in those locks?

His might continues in thee, not for naught,

Nor shall His wondrous gifts be frustrate thus.

SAM. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend,
7588

That these dark orbs no more shall treat
7589
with light,

Nor th’ other light of life continue long,

But yield to double darkness nigh at hand.

So much I feel my genial
7590
spirits droop,

My hopes all flat. Nature within me seems

In all her functions weary of herself,

My race of glory run, and race of shame,

And I shall shortly be with them that rest.

MAN. Believe not these suggestions, which proceed

From anguish of the mind and humors
7591
black,

That mingle with thy fancy.
7592
I however

Must not omit a father’s timely care

To prosecute
7593
the means of thy deliverance,

By ransom or how else. Meanwhile be calm,

And healing words from these thy friends admit.
7594

SAM. O that torment
7595
should not be confined
7596

To the body’s wounds and sores,

With maladies innumerable

In heart, head, breast, and reins,
7597

But must secret passage find

To th’ inmost mind,

There exercise
7598
all his fierce accidents,
7599

And on her purest spirits prey,

As on entrails, joints, and limbs,

With answerable
7600
pains, but more intense,

Though void of corporal sense.
7601

My griefs not only pain me

As a ling’ring disease,

But finding no redress, ferment
7602
and rage,

Nor less than wounds immedicable
7603

Rankle,
7604
and fester, and gangrene
7605

To black mortification.
7606

Thoughts (my tormentors) armed with deadly stings

Mangle my apprehensive
7607
tenderest parts,

Exasperate,
7608
exulcerate, and raise

Dire inflammation which no cooling herb

Or med’cinal liquor can assuage,
7609

Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp.

Sleep hath forsook and giv’n me o’er

To death’s benumbing opium as my only cure.

Thence faintings, swoonings of despair,

And sense of Heav’n’s desertion.

I was His nursling once, and choice delight,

His destined
7610
from the womb,

Promised by Heav’nly message twice descending.

Under His special
7611
eye

Abstemious
7612
I grew up and thrived amain.
7613

He led me on to mightiest deeds

(Above the nerve
7614
of mortal arm)

Against th’ uncircumcised, our enemies,

But now hath cast me off as
7615
never known,

And to those cruel enemies,

Whom I by His appointment
7616
had provoked,
7617

Left me all helpless with th’ irreparable loss

Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated
7618

The subject of their cruelty, or scorn.

Nor am I in the list
7619
of them that hope.

Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless.

This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard:

No long petition, speedy death,

The close of all my miseries, and the balm.

CHOR. Many are the sayings of the wise,

In ancient and in modern books enrolled,
7620

Extolling patience as the truest fortitude,
7621

And to the bearing well of all calamities,

All chances incident to man’s frail life,

Consolatories writ

With studied
7622
argument, and much persuasion
7623
sought,
7624

Lenient
7625
of grief and anxious thought.

But with th’ afflicted in his pangs their sound

Little prevails, or rather seems a tune

Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint,

Unless he feel within

Some source of consolation from above,

Secret refreshings, that repair
7626
his strength,

And fainting spirits uphold.

God of our fathers, what is man!

That Thou towards him with hand so various,
7627

Or might I say contrarious,

Temper’st Thy providence through his short course
7628

Not evenly, as thou rul’st

The Angelic orders and inferior creatures mute,

Irrational and brute.

Nor do I name of men the common rout,
7629

That wand’ring loose
7630
about

Grow up and perish, as
7631
the summer fly,

Heads without name no more remembered!

But such as Thou hast solemnly
7632
elected,
7633

With gifts and graces eminently adorned

To some great work, Thy glory

And people’s safety,
7634
which in part they effect.

Yet toward these thus dignified,
7635
Thou oft

Amidst their height of noon

Changest Thy countenance and Thy hand, with no regard

Of highest favors past

From Thee on them, or them to Thee of service.

Nor only dost degrade them, or remit
7636

To life obscured, which were a fair dismission,

But throw’st them lower than Thou did’st exalt them high,

Unseemly falls,
7637
in human eye,

Too grievous for the trespass or omission—

Oft leav’st them to the hostile sword

Of heathen and profane,
7638
their carcasses

To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived,

Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times,

And condemnation of the ungrateful multitude.

If these they scape, perhaps in poverty

With sickness and disease Thou bow’st them down,

Painful diseases and deformed,

In crude
7639
old age,

Though not disordinate,
7640
yet causeless suff ’ring

The punishment of dissolute days. In fine,
7641

Just or unjust alike seem miserable,

For oft alike both come to evil end.

So
7642
deal not, with this once Thy glorious champion,

The image of Thy strength, and mighty minister.
7643

What do I beg? How hast Thou dealt
7644
already?

Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn

His labors—for Thou canst—to peaceful end.

But who is this, what thing of sea or land?

Female of sex it seems,

That so bedecked, ornate, and gay,

Comes this way sailing

Like a stately ship

Of Tarsus,
7645
bound for th’ Isles

Of Javan
7646
or Gadier,
7647

With all her bravery
7648
on, and tackle
7649
trim,
7650

Sails filled, and streamers
7651
waving

(Courted by all the winds that hold them play),
7652

An amber scent of odorous perfume

Her harbinger,
7653
a damsel train
7654
behind.

Some rich Philistian matron she may seem,

And now at nearer view, no other, certain,

Than Dalila, thy wife.

SAM. My wife, my traitress, let her not come near me.

CHOR. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes thee fixed,
7655

About t’ have spoke, but now, with head declined

Like a fair flower surcharged
7656
with dew, she weeps

And words addressed
7657
seem into tears dissolved,

Wetting the borders of her silken veil.

But now again she makes address
7658
to speak.

DAL. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution

I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson,

Which to have merited, without excuse,

I cannot but acknowledge. Yet if tears

May expiate (though the fact more evil drew
7659

In the perverse
7660
event than I foresaw)

My penance hath not slack’ned, though my pardon

No way assured. But conjugal affection

Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt,

Hath led me on, desirous to behold

Once more thy face, and know of thy estate.
7661

If aught in my ability may serve

To lighten what thou suffer’st, and appease

Thy mind with what amends is in my power,

Though late, yet in some part to recompense

My rash but more unfortunate misdeed.

SAM. Out, out hyena! These are thy wonted
7662
arts,

And arts of every woman false like thee,

To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray,

Then as
7663
repentant to submit, beseech

And reconcilement move
7664
with feigned remorse,

Confess, and promise wonders in her change,

Not truly penitent, but chief
7665
to try
7666

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