Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half regained Eurydice.
These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
HAIL, holy Light! offspring of Heaven first-born, Or of th' Eternal coeternal beam,
May I express thee unblamed? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light
Dwelt from eternity; dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained In that obscure sojourn; while in my flight Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to th' Orphean lyre,
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night;
Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to re-ascend, Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovran vital lamp: but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, Or dim suffusion veiled. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit; nor sometimes forget
Those other two equalled with me in fate, So were I equalled with them in renown, Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old: Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid, Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of Knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. So much the rather thou, celestial Light,
Shine inward, and the Mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.
My author and disposer, what thou bidst Unargued I obey; so God ordains.
God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is Woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons, and their change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night, With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train: But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends With charm of carliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after shower; Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night, With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
Now the bright Morning Star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing! Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
HUDIBRAS GOES INTO POETICAL RAPTURES WITH THE WIDOW.
QUOTH he "My faith as adamantine
As chains of destiny, I'll maintain;
True as Apollo ever spoke,
Or oracle from heart of oak;
And if you'll give my flame but vent, Now in close hugger-mugger pent, And shine upon me but benignly, With that one, and that other pigsney, The sun and day shall sooner part, Than love, or you, shake off my heart; The sun that shall no more dispense His own, but your, bright influence; I'll carve your name on barks of trees, With true-love-knots, and flourishes That shall infuse eternal spring, And everlasting flourishing;
Drink every letter on't in stum,
And make it brisk champagne become; Where'er you tread, your foot shall set The primrose and the violet;
All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders, Shall borrow from your breath their odours;
Nature her charter shall renew,
And take all lives of things from you;
The world depend upon your eye,
And when you frown upon it, die.
Only our loves shall still survive, New worlds and natures to outlive;
And, like to herald's moons, remain
All crescents, without change or wane." "Hold, hold," quoth she, "no more of this.
Sir knight, you take your aim amiss;
For you will find it a hard chapter, To catch me with poetic rapture,
In which your mastery of art Doth show itself, and not your heart; Nor will you raise in mine combustion, By dint of high heroic fustian:
She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her, they mean No more than on the thing they lean. Some with Arabian spices strive T'embalm her cruelly alive;
Or season her, as French cooks use Their haut-gouts, bouillions, or ragouts; Use her so barbarously ill,
To grind her lips upon a mill, Until the facet doublet doth
Fit their rhymes rather than her mouth; Her mouth compared t' an oyster's, with A row of pearl in 't, 'stead of teeth; Others make posies of her checks, Where red and whitest colours mix; In which the lily and the rose, For Indian lake and ceruse goes. The sun and moon, by her bright eyes, Eclipsed and darkened in the skies, Are but black patches, that she wears, Cut into suns, and moons, and stars."
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