John Milton
L' Allegro
HENCE, loathed Melancholy, | ||
............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born | ||
In Stygian cave forlorn | ||
............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights | ||
5 | unholy! | |
Find out some uncouth cell, | ||
............Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, | ||
And the night-raven sings; | ||
............There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, | ||
10 | As ragged as thy locks, | |
............In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. | ||
But come, thou Goddess fair and free, | ||
In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, | ||
And by men heart-easing Mirth; | ||
15 | Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, | |
With two sister Graces more, | ||
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: | ||
Or whether (as some sager sing) | ||
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, | ||
20 | Zephyr, with Aurora pIaying, | |
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, | ||
25 | So buxom, blithe, and debonair. | |
Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee | ||
Jest, and youthful Jollity, | ||
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, | ||
Nods and becks and wreathed smiles | ||
30 | Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, | |
And love to live in dimple sleek; | ||
Sport that wrinkled Care derides, | ||
And Laughter holding both his sides. | ||
Come, and trip it, as you go, | ||
35 | On the light fantastic toe; | |
And in thy right hand lead with thee | ||
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty; | ||
And, if I give thee honour due, | ||
Mirth, admit me of thy crew, | ||
40 | To live with her, and live with thee, | |
In unreproved pleasures free: | ||
To hear the lark begin his flight, | ||
And, singing, startle the dull night, | ||
From his watch-tower in the skies, | ||
45 | Till the dappled 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; | ||
50 | While the cock, with lively din, | |
Scatters the rear of darkness thin, | ||
And to the stack, or the barn-door, | ||
Stoutly struts his dames before: | ||
Oft listening how the hounds and horn | ||
55 | Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, | |
From the side of some hoar hill, | ||
Through the high wood echoing shrill: | ||
Sometime walking, not unseen, | ||
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, | ||
60 | Right against the eastern gate | |
Where the great Sun begins his state, | ||
Robed in flames and amber light, | ||
The clouds in thousand liveries dight; | ||
While the ploughman, near at hand, | ||
65 | Whistles o'er the furrowed land, | |
And the milkmaid singeth blithe, | ||
And the mower whets his scythe, | ||
And every shepherd tells his tale | ||
Under the hawthorn in the dale. | ||
70 | Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, | |
Whilst the landskip round it measures: | ||
Russet lawns, and fallows grey, | ||
Where the nibbling flocks do stray; | ||
Mountains on whose barren breast | ||
75 | The labouring clouds do often rest; | |
Meadows trim, with daisies pied; | ||
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; | ||
Towers and battlements it sees | ||
Bosomed high in tufted trees, | ||
80 | Where perhaps some beauty lies, | |
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. | ||
Hard by a cottage chimney smokes | ||
From betwixt two aged oaks, | ||
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met | ||
85 | Are at their savoury dinner set | |
Of herbs and other country messes, | ||
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses; | ||
And then in haste her bower she leaves, | ||
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; | ||
90 | Or, if the earlier season lead, | |
To the tanned haycock in the mead. | ||
Sometimes, with secure delight, | ||
The upland hamlets will invite, | ||
When the merry bells ring round, | ||
95 | And the jocund rebecks sound | |
To many a youth and many a maid | ||
Dancing in the chequered shade, | ||
And young and old come forth to play | ||
On a sunshine holiday, | ||
100 | Till the livelong daylight fail: | |
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, | ||
With stories told of many a feat, | ||
How Faery Mab the junkets eat. | ||
She was pinched and pulled, she said; | ||
105 | And he, by Friar's lantern led, | |
Tells how the drudging goblin sweat | ||
To earn his cream-bowl duly set, | ||
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, | ||
His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn | ||
110 | That ten day-labourers could not end; | |
Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, | ||
And, stretched out all the chimney's length, | ||
Basks at the fire his hairy strength, | ||
And crop-full out of doors he flings, | ||
115 | Ere the first cock his matin rings. | |
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, | ||
By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. | ||
Towered cities please us then, | ||
And the busy hum of men, | ||
120 | Where throngs of knights and barons bold, | |
In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold | ||
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes | ||
Rain influence, and judge the prize | ||
Of wit or arms, while both contend | ||
125 | To win her grace whom all commend. | |
There let Hymen oft appear | ||
In saffron robe, with taper clear, | ||
And pomp, and feast, and revelry, | ||
With mask and antique pageantry; | ||
130 | Such sights as youthful poets dream | |
On summer eves by haunted stream. | ||
Then to the well-trod stage anon, | ||
If Jonson's learned sock be on, | ||
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, | ||
135 | Warble his native wood-notes wild. | |
And ever, against eating cares, | ||
Lap me in soft Lydian airs, | ||
Married to immortal verse, | ||
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, | ||
140 | In notes with many a winding bout | |
Of linked sweetness long drawn out | ||
With wanton heed and giddy cunning, | ||
The melting voice through mazes running, | ||
Untwisting all the chains that tie | ||
145 | The hidden soul of harmony; | |
That Orpheus' self may heave his head | ||
From golden slumber on a bed | ||
Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear | ||
Such strains as would have won the ear | ||
150 | Of Pluto to have quite set free | |
His half-regained Eurydice. | ||
These delights if thou canst give, | ||
Mirth, with thee I mean to live. | ||
Robert Clark