The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems (17 page)

With sudden adoration and blank
⁸⁴⁶
awe!

So dear to Heav’n is saintly chastity

That when a soul is found sincerely so

A thousand liveried
⁸⁴⁷
Angels lackey
⁸⁴⁸
her,

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,

And in clear dream and solemn vision

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,

Till oft converse with Heav’nly habitants

Begin to cast a beam on th’ outward shape,

The unpolluted temple of the mind,

And turns it by degrees to the soul’s essence,

Till all be made immortal. But when lust

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,

But most by lewd and lavish
⁸⁴⁹
act of sin

Lets in
⁸⁵⁰
defilement to the inward parts,

The soul grows clotted by contagion,
⁸⁵¹

Embodies
⁸⁵²
and embrutes
⁸⁵³
till she quite lose

The divine property of her first being.

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp,

Oft seen in charnel
⁸⁵⁴
vaults and sepulchers

Hovering, and sitting by a new-made grave,

As
⁸⁵⁵
loath to leave the body that it loved

And linked itself, by carnal sensual’ty,

To a degenerate and degraded state.

BROTHER 2. How charming is divine
⁸⁵⁶
philosophy!

Not harsh and crabbèd, as dull fools suppose,

But musical as is Apollo’s lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,

Where no crude surfeit reigns.

BROTHER 1. List, list! I hear

Some faroff halloo break the silent air.

BROTHER 2. Methought so too. What should it be?

BROTHER 1. For certain,

Either someone, like us night-foundered here,

Or else some neighbor woodman—or, at worst,

Some roving robber calling to his fellows.

BROTHER 2. Heav’n keep my sister! Again: again, and

near!

Best draw
⁸⁵⁷
and stand upon our guard.

BROTHER 1. I’ll halloo.

If he be friendly, he comes well. If not,

Defence is a good cause, and Heav’n be for us.

The attendant spirit [enters], habited like a shepherd.

That halloo I should know. What are you? Speak!

Come not too near: you fall on iron stakes,
⁸⁵⁸
else!

SPIRIT. What voice is that, my young lord? Speak again.

BROTHER 2. O brother, ’tis my father’s shepherd—sure!

BROTHER 1. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains
⁸⁵⁹
have oft

delayed

The huddling
⁸⁶⁰
brook, to hear his madrigal,

And sweetened every muskrose of the dale.

How cam’st thou here, good swain? Hath any ram

Slipped from his fold, or young kid lost his dam,
⁸⁶¹

Or straggling
⁸⁶²
weather the pent flock forsook?
⁸⁶³

How could’st thou find this dark, sequestered nook?

SPIRIT. O my loved master’s heir, and his next
⁸⁶⁴
joy,

I came not here on such a trivial toy

As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth

Of pilfering wolf. Not all the fleecy wealth

That doth enrich these downs
⁸⁶⁵
is worth a thought

To this my errand, and the care
⁸⁶⁶
it brought!

But O, my virgin lady: where is she?

How chance she is not in your company?

BROTHER 1. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame

Or our neglect we lost her as we came.

SPIRIT. Aye me, unhappy! Then my fears are true.

BROTHER I. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee, briefly show.

SPIRIT. I’ll tell you. ’Tis not vain or fabulous
⁸⁶⁷

(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance),

What the sage poets, taught by th’ Heav’nly Muse,

Storied
⁸⁶⁸
of old in high immortal verse

Of dire chimeras
⁸⁶⁹
and enchanted isles,

And rifted
⁸⁷⁰
rocks whose entrance leads to Hell,

For such there be. But unbelief is blind.

Within the navel of this hideous Wood,

Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,

Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,

Deep skilled in all his mother’s witcheries,

And here to every thirsty wanderer

By sly enticement gives his baneful
⁸⁷¹
cup,

With many murmurs
⁸⁷²
mixed, whose pleasing poison

The visage quite transforms of him who drinks,

And the inglorious likeness of a beast

Fixes instead, unmoulding
⁸⁷³
reason’s mintage
⁸⁷⁴

Charactered
⁸⁷⁵
in the face. This have I learned,

Tending my flocks hard by, i’ th’ hilly crofts
⁸⁷⁶

That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night

He and his monstrous rout
⁸⁷⁷
are heard to howl

Like stabled
⁸⁷⁸
wolves or tigers at their prey,

Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate
⁸⁷⁹

In their obscurèd haunts of inmost
⁸⁸⁰
bow’rs.

Yet have they many baits and guileful spells

T’ inveigle and invite th’ unwary sense

Of them that pass, unweeting,
⁸⁸¹
by the way.

This evening, late—by then the chewing flocks

Had ta’n their supper on the savory herb—

I sat me down to watch, upon a bank

With ivy canopied and interwove

With flaunting
⁸⁸²
honeysuckle, and began,

Wrapped in a pleasing fit of melancholy,

To meditate my rural minstrelsy

Till Fancy had her fill, but ere a close
⁸⁸³

The wonted
⁸⁸⁴
roar was up amidst the woods

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance,

At which I ceased and listened them a while,

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence

Gave respite to the drowsy, frightened steeds

That draw the litter of close-curtained sleep.

At last a soft and solemn breathing sound

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes

And stole upon the air, that even silence

Was took, ere she was ware, and wished she might

Deny her nature and be never more

Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,

And took in strains that might create a soul

Under the ribs of Death. But O, ere long

Too well I did perceive it was the voice

Of my most honored lady, your dear sister.

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear,

And O, poor hapless nightingale, thought I,

How sweet thou sing’st, how near the deadly snare!

Then down the lawns I ran, with headlong haste,

Through paths and turnings often trod by day,

Till guided by mine ear I found the place

Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise

(For so by certain signs I knew), had met

Already, ere my best speed could prevent,
⁸⁸⁵

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,

Who gently asked if he had seen such two,

Supposing him some neighbor villager.

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed

Ye were the two she meant. With that I sprung

Into swift flight, till I had found you here.

But further know I not.

BROTHER 2. O night and shades,

How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot

Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,

Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence

You gave me, brother?

BROTHER 1. Yes, and keep it still,

Lean on it safely: not a period
⁸⁸⁶

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 assailed, but never hurt,

Surprised by unjust force—but not enthralled.
⁸⁸⁷

Yea, even that which mischief
⁸⁸⁸
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

Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,

It shall be in eternal restless change

Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail,

The pillared firmament is rottenness

And earth’s base built on stubble. But come, let’s on!

Against th’ opposing will and arm of Heav’n

May never this just sword be lifted up

But for that damned magician, let him be girt

With all the grisly legions
⁸⁸⁹
that troop

Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
⁸⁹⁰

Harpies
⁸⁹¹
and hydras,
⁸⁹²
or all the monstrous bugs
⁸⁹³

’Twixt Africa and Ind! I’ll find him out

And force him to restore his purchase
⁸⁹⁴
back,

Or drag him by the curls and cleave his scalp

Down to the hips!

SPIRIT. Alas, good vent’rous youth,

I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise,
⁸⁹⁵
610

But here thy sword can do thee little stead.
⁸⁹⁶

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!

BROTHER 1. Why prithee, shepherd,

How durst thou then thyself approach so near

As to make this relation?
⁸⁹⁷

SPIRIT. Care and utmost shifts!
⁸⁹⁸

How to secure the lady from surprisal

Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad

Of small regard
⁸⁹⁹
to see to, yet well skilled

In every virtuous
⁹⁰⁰
plant and healing herb

That spreads her verdant leaf to th’ morning ray.

He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing,

Which when I did, he on the tender grass

Would sit and hearken e’en to ecstasy,

And in requital ope his leathern scrip
⁹⁰¹

And show me simples
⁹⁰²
of a thousand names,

Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,

But of divine effect, he culled
⁹⁰³
me out.

The leaf was darkish and had prickles on it,

But in another country, as he said,

Bore a bright golden flow’r—but not in this soil—

Unknown, and like esteemed—and the dull swain

Treads on it daily with his clouted
⁹⁰⁴
shoon.

And yet more med’cinal is it than that Moly
⁹⁰⁵

Which Hermes
⁹⁰⁶
once to wise Ulysses gave.

He
⁹⁰⁷
called it Haemony, and gave it me,

And bade me keep it as of sov’reign
⁹⁰⁸
use

’Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast,
⁹⁰⁹
or damp,