John Milton
IL Penseroso
HENCE, vain deluding Joys, | ||
............The brood of Folly without father bred! | ||
How little you bested | ||
............Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! | ||
5 | Dwell in some idle brain, | |
............And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, | ||
As thick and numberless | ||
............As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, | ||
Or likest hovering dreams, | ||
10 | ............The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. | |
But, hail! thou Goddess sage and holy! | ||
Hail, divinest Melancholy! | ||
Whose saintly visage is too bright | ||
To hit the sense of human sight, | ||
15 | And therefore to our weaker view | |
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; | ||
Black, but such as in esteem | ||
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, | ||
Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove | ||
20 | To set her beauty's praise above | |
The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended. | ||
Yet thou art higher far descended: | ||
Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore | ||
To solitary Saturn bore; | ||
25 | His daughter she; in Saturn's reign | |
Such mixture was not held a stain. | ||
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades | ||
He met her, and in secret shades | ||
Of woody Ida's inmost grove, | ||
30 | Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. | |
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, | ||
Sober, steadfast, and demure, | ||
All in a robe of darkest grain, | ||
Flowing with majestic train, | ||
35 | And sable stole of cypress lawn | |
Over thy decent shoulders drawn. | ||
Come; but keep thy wonted state, | ||
With even step, and musing gait, | ||
And looks commercing with the skies, | ||
40 | Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: | |
There, held in holy passion still, | ||
Forget thyself to marble, till | ||
With a sad leaden downward cast | ||
Thou fix them on the earth as fast. | ||
45 | And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, | |
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, | ||
And hears the Muses in a ring | ||
Aye round about Jove's altar sing; | ||
And add to these retired Leisure, | ||
50 | That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; | |
But, first and chiefest, with thee bring | ||
Him that yon soars on golden wing, | ||
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, | ||
The Cherub Contemplation; | ||
55 | And the mute Silence hist along, | |
'Less Philomel will deign a song, | ||
In her sweetest saddest plight, | ||
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, | ||
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke | ||
60 | Gently o'er the accustomed oak. | |
Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, | ||
Most musical, most melancholy! | ||
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among | ||
I woo, to hear thy even-song; | ||
65 | And, missing thee,I walk unseen | |
On the dry smooth-shaven green, | ||
To behold the wandering moon, | ||
Riding near her highest noon, | ||
Like one that had been led astray | ||
70 | Through the heaven's wide pathless way, | |
And oft, as if her head she bowed, | ||
Stooping through a fleecy cloud. | ||
Oft, on a plat of rising ground, | ||
I hear the far-off curfew sound, | ||
75 | Over some wide-watered shore, | |
Swinging slow with sullen roar; | ||
Or, if the air will not permit, | ||
Some still removed place will fit, | ||
Where glowing embers through the room | ||
80 | Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, | |
Far from all resort of mirth, | ||
Save the cricket on the hearth, | ||
Or the bellman's drowsy charm | ||
To bless the doors from nightly harm. | ||
85 | Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, | |
Be seen in some high lonely tower, | ||
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, | ||
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere | ||
The spirit of Plato, to unfold | ||
90 | What worlds or what vast regions hold | |
The immortal mind that hath forsook | ||
Her mansion in this fleshly nook; | ||
And of those demons that are found | ||
In fire, air, flood, or underground, | ||
95 | Whose power hath a true consent | |
With planet or with element. | ||
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy | ||
In sceptred pall come sweeping by, | ||
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, | ||
100 | Or the tale of Troy divine, | |
Or what (though rare) of later age | ||
Ennobled hath the buskined stage. | ||
But, O sad Virgin! that thy power | ||
Might raise Musaeus from his bower; | ||
105 | Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing | |
Such notes as, warbled to the string, | ||
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, | ||
And made Hell grant what love did seek; | ||
Or call up him that left half-told | ||
110 | The story of Cambuscan bold, | |
Of Camball, and of Algarsife, | ||
And who had Canace to wife, | ||
That owned the virtuous ring and glass, | ||
And of the wondrous horse of brass | ||
115 | On which the Tartar king did ride; | |
And if aught else great bards beside | ||
In sage and solemn tunes have sung, | ||
Of turneys, and of trophies hung, | ||
Of forests, and enchantments drear, | ||
120 | Where more is meant than meets the ear. | |
Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, | ||
Till civil-suited Morn appear, | ||
Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont | ||
With the Attic boy to hunt, | ||
125 | But kerchieft in a comely cloud | |
While rocking winds are piping loud, | ||
Or ushered with a shower still, | ||
When the gust hath blown his fill, | ||
Ending on the rustling leaves, | ||
130 | With minute-drops from off the eaves. | |
And, when the sun begins to fling | ||
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring | ||
To arched walks of twilight groves, | ||
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, | ||
135 | Of pine, or monumental oak, | |
Where the rude axe with heaved stroke | ||
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, | ||
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. | ||
There, in close covert, by some brook, | ||
140 | Where no profaner eye may look, | |
Hide me from day's garish eye, | ||
While the bee with honeyed thigh, | ||
That at her flowery work doth sing, | ||
And the waters murmuring, | ||
145 | With such consort as they keep, | |
Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. | ||
And let some strange mysterious dream | ||
Wave at his wings, in airy stream | ||
Of lively portraiture displayed, | ||
150 | Softly on my eyelids laid; | |
And, as I wake, sweet music breathe | ||
Above, about, or underneath, | ||
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, | ||
Or the unseen Genius of the wood. | ||
155 | But let my due feet never fail | |
To walk the studious cloister's pale, | ||
And love the high embowed roof, | ||
With antique pillars massy proof, | ||
And storied windows richly dight, | ||
160 | Casting a dim religious light. | |
There let the pealing organ blow, | ||
To the full-voiced quire below, | ||
In service high and anthems clear, | ||
As may with sweetness, through mine ear, | ||
165 | Dissolve me into ecstasies, | |
And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. | ||
And may at last my weary age | ||
Find out the peaceful hermitage, | ||
The hairy gown and mossy cell, | ||
170 | Where I may sit and rightly spell | |
Of every star that heaven doth shew, | ||
And every herb that sips the dew, | ||
Till old experience do attain | ||
To something like prophetic strain. | ||
175 | These pleasures, Melancholy, give; | |
And I with thee will choose to live. | ||
Robert Clark