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The babe yet lies in smiling infancy,

His burning idol all of blackest hue; That on the bitter cross

In vain with cymbals' ring Must redeem our loss;

They call the grisly king, So both himself and us to glorify:

In dismal dance about the furnace blae : Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,

The brutish gods of Nile as fast, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anabis, haste. through the deep;

Nor is Osiris seen With such a horrid elang

In Memphian grove or green, As on mount Sinai rang,

[brake: Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings While the red fire and smouldering clouds out

loud: The aged Earth aghast

Nor can he be at rest With terrour of that blast,

Within his sacred chest; Shall from the surface to the centre shake;

Nought but profoundest Hell can be bis sbroud; When, at the world's last session,

In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt arke throne.

He feels from Juda's land And then at last our bliss

The dreaded infant's hand, Full and perfect is,

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; But now begins; for, from this happy day,

Nor all the gods beside The old Dragon, under ground

Longer dare abide,
In straiter limits bound,

Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
Not half so far casts his usurped sway; Our babe, to show his Godhead true.
And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,

Can in lựis swaddling bands controll the damped Swindges the scaly horrour of his folded tail.

crew. The oracles are dumb,

So, when the Sun in bed, No voice or hideous hum

Curtain'd with cloudy red, Runs through the arched roof in word's deceiv

Pillows his chin upon an orient wate, ing.

The flocking shadows pale Apollo from his shrine

Troop to the infernal jail, Can no more divine,

Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leav- And the yellow-skirted Fayes No nightly trance, or breathed spell, [ing. Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moonInspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic

loy'd maze. cell. The lonely mountains o'er,

But see, the Virgin blest

Hath laid her babe to rest; And the resounding shore,

Time is, our tedious song should here hate A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;

ending : From haunted spring and dale, Edg'd with poplar pale,

Heaven's youngest-teemed star

Hath fix'd her polish'd car, The parting genius is with sighing sent;

Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp atWith flower-inwoven tresses torn

(tending: The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets and all about the courtly stable

Bright-harness'd angels sit in ord er serviceable, mourn.

In consecrated earth,
And on the holy hearth,
"The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight EREWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth,

In urns, and altars round,

[plaint ; A drear and dying sound

Wherewith the stage of air and Earth did ring, Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint ; And joyous news of Heavenly Infant's birth, And the chill marble seems to sweat;

My Muse with angels did divide to sing; While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted | But headlong joy is ever on the wing, seat.

In wintery solstice like the shorten'd light,

Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living Peor and Baälim

night. Forsake their temples dim,

With that twice-batter'd god of palestine; For now to sorrow must I tuine my song, And mooned Ashtaroth,

And set my barp to notes of saddest woe, Heaven's queen and mother both,

Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, (so, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; Dangers, and snares, and wrungs, and worse than The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,

Which he for us did freely undergo : In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Tham

• This Ode was probably composed soon after

that on the Nativity. And this perhaps was And sullen Moloch, fled,

a college exercise at Easter, as the last was at Hath left in shadows dread

Christūnas. WARTON,

muz mourn.

Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight Through the soft silence of the listening Night; Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human Now mouin; and, if sad share with us to bear wight!

Your fiery essence can distil no tear,

Burn in your sighs, and borrow
He, sovran priest, stooping his regal head, Seas wept from our deep sorrow :
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, He, who with all Heaven's heraldry whilere
Poor fleshy tabernacle entered,

Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease: His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies : Alas, how soon our sin 0, what a mask was there, what a disguise:

Sore doth begin
Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide, His infancy to seize!
Then lies him meekly down fast by bis brethrens' | O more exceeding love, or law more just?

Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!

For we, by rightful doom remediless,
These latest scenes confine my roving verse; Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above
To this horizon is my Phoebus bound:

High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust
His god-like acts, and his temptations fierce,

Emptied his glory, even to nakedness; And former sufferings, other where are found; And that great covenant which we still transgrest Loud o'er the rest Cremona's trump doth sound ; Entirely satisfied ; Me softer airs befit, and softer strings

And the full wrath beside Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful

Of vengeful justice bore for our excess; things.

And seals obedience first, with wounding smart,

This day; but O, ere long, Befriend me, Night, best patroness of grief;

Huge pangs and strong
Over the pole thy thickest mantle throw,

Will pierce more near l.is heart.
And work my fatter'd fancy to belief,
That Heaven and Earth are colour'd with my woe;
My sorrows are too dark for day to know :
The leaves should all be black whereon I write,

And letters, where my tears have wash'd, a wan-


See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels,
That whirld the prophet up at Chebar food; O

Fairest flower, no sooner blown but blasted,
My spirit some transporting cherub feels, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,
To bear me where the towers of Salem stood,

Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Once glorious towers, now sunk in guiltless Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry;

For he, being amorous on that lovely dye There doth my soul in holy vision sit,

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic

kiss, fit.

But kill'd, alas ! and then bewail'd his fatal bliss. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer, That was the casket of Heaven's richest store,

By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, And here though grief my feeble hands up lock, He thought it touch'd his deity full near, Yet on the soften'd quarry would I score

If likewise he some fair one wedded not, My plajuing verse as lively as before;

Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot For sure so well instructed are my tears,

Of long-uncoupled bed and childless eld, That they would fitly fall in order'd characters. Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a foul reproach Or should I thence hurried on view]ess wing

was held. Take up a weeping on the mountains wild,

So, mounting up in icy-pearled car,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would soon unbosoin all their echoes mild;

Through middle empire of the freezing air

He wander'd long, till thee he spied from far ; And I (for grief is easily beguild)

There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care: Might think the infection of my sorrows loud

Down he descended from his snow-soft chair, Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant

But, all unwares, with his cold kind embrace cloud.

Unhous'd thy virgin soul from her fair biding

place. This subject the author finding to be above the

years he had, when he wrote it, and notlang | Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate; satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished. For so Apollo, with unweeting hand,

Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate,

Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand,

Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land ;

But then transform'd him to a purple flower : CIRCUMCISION.

Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no Ye Haming powers, and winged warriors bright,

power! That erst with music, and triumphant song, First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, " Written in 1625, and first inserted in edi. So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along tion 1673. He was now seventeen, WARTON.



Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
Or that thy corse corrupts in Earth's dark womb, And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,

Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
Hid from the world in a low-delved tomb; With an individual kiss;
Could Heaven for pity thee so strictly doom? And joy shall overtake us as a flood,

Oh no! for something in thy face did shine When every thing that is sincerely good
Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine. And perfectly divine,

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine Resolve me then, oh soul most surely blest,

About the supreme throne (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear;)

Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone, 'Tell me, bright spirit, where'er thou hoverest,

When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Whether above that ligh first-moving sphere, Then, all this earthy grossness quit, Or in the Elysian Fields, (if such were there ;)

Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit, On say me true, if thou wert mortal wight,

Triumphing orer Death, and Chance, and thee, And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy

O Time.
Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof
Of shak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall;
Which careful Jove in Nature's true behoof

Took up, and in fit place did reinstall ?
Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall (fled, Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,

Of sheeny Heaven, and thou, some goddess Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and verse, Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?

Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd power employ Or wert thou that just maid, who once before

Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce ; Forsook the hated Earth, O tell me sooth,

And to our high-rais'd phantasy present And cam'st again to visit us once more?

That undisturbed song of pure consent, Or wert thou that sweet-siniling youth?

Aye sung before the saphire-colour'd throne

To him that sits thereon,
Or that crown'd inatruns,age white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that heavenly brood

With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee;
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some

Where the bright Seraphim, in burning row, 10 good ?

Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow;

And the cherubic host, in thousand quires, Or wert thou of the golden winged host,

Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, Who, having clad thyself in human weed, With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, To Earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, Hymns devout and holy psalms And after short abode fiy back with speed, Singing everlastingly: As if to show what creatures Heaven doth breed; That we on Earth, with undiscurding voice,

Thereby to set the hearts of inen on fire May rightly answer that melodious noise; To scorn the sordid world, and upto Heaven As once we did, till disproportion'd Sin aspire

Jari'd against Nature's chime, and with harsh din

Broke the fair music that all creatures made But oh! why didst thou not stay here below

To their great Lord, whose love their motion To bless us with thy heaveu-lov'd innocence, To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, In first obedience, and their state of good.

In perfect diapason, whilst they stood (sway'd To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence,

0, may we soon again renew that song, Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence,

And keep in tune with Heaven, till God e.e long To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart ?

To his celestial consort us unite, But thou canst best perform that office where To live with him, and sing in endless morn of thou art.

Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child,
Her false-imagin'd loss cease to lament,
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
Think what a present thou to God hast sent,

And render him with patience what he lent;

This if thou do, he will an offspring give, That, till the world's last end, shall make thy MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER '. name to live.

Tus rich marble doth inter
The honour'd wife of Winchester,

A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir,

Besides what her virtues fair



Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race ; "She was the wife of John marquis of WinCall on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours,

chester, a conspicuous loyalist in the reign of Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; king Charles the first, whose magnificent house And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, or castle of Basing in Hampshire withstood an Which is no more than what is false and vain, obstinate siege of two years against the rebels, And merely mortal dross ;

and when taken was levelled to the ground, be. So little is our loss,

cause in every window was dourished. Aymez So little is thy gain !

Loya ute.

Added to her noble birth,

SONG More than she could own from earth.

Summers three times eight save one

She had told ; alas ! too soon,
After so short time of breath,

Now the bright Morning-star, Day's harbinger, To house with darkness, and with death.

Comes dancing from the east, and leads withi Yet had the number of her days

her Been as complete as was her praise,

The flowery May, who from her green lap throws Nature and Fate had had no strife

The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.. In giving limit to her life.

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Her high birth, and her graces sweet,

Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Quickly found a lover meet;

Woods and groves are of thy dressing, The virgin quire for her request

Hill, and dale, doth boast thy blessing. The god that sits at marriage feast ;

Thus we salute thee with our early song,
He at their invoking came,

And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland, as he stood,
Ye might discern a cypress bud.


Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,

There are three draughts or copies of this song: And now with second hope she goes,

all in Milton's own hand-writing. There rccur And calls Lucina to her throes;

some remarkable expressions in these various But, whether by mischance or blame,

readings which Doctor Newton and Mr. Warton Atropos for Lucina came;

have not noticed. And with remorseless cruelty

Ver. 3. Mire your choice words, and happiest Spoil'd at one both fruit and tree :

sounds employ, The hapless babe, before his birth,

Dead things with inbreath'd sense Had burial, yet not laid in earth ;

able to pierce; And the languish'd mother's womb

And as your equal raptures, temper'd Was not long a living tomb.

sweet, So have I seen some tender slip,

In high mysterious spousall meet ; Sav'd with care from Winter's nip,

Snatch us from Earth awhile, The pride of her carnation train,

Us of ourselves and native woes beguile : Pluck'd up by some unheedy svain,

And to our high-rays'd phantasie preWho only thought to crop the flower

sent New shot up from vernal shower;

That undisturbed song, &c. But the fair blossom hangs the head

Here, in the first draught, it is “ And whilst your Side-ways, as on a dying bed,

equal raptures;” in the second, whilst is erased, And those pearls of dew, she wears,

and as written over it. In the second draugbt Prove to be presaging tears,

also, the next I ne was Which the sad Morn had let fall

In high mysterious holiespousall meet; On her hastening funeral.

but holie is expunged, and happie supplied in the Gentle lady, may thy grave

margin; and, in the last of these original lines, Peace and quiet ever have ;

native woes" was originally home-bred After this thy travel sore

woes." Sweet rest seize thee evermore,

Ver. 10. Where the bright Seraphim in tripled That, to give the world increase, Shorten'd hast thy own life's lease.

Ver. 12. And Cherubim, sweet-winged squires, Here, beside the sorrowing

Then called Heaven's henshmen, which means That thy noble house doth bring,

the same; henshman, or henchman, signifying a Here be tears of perfect moan

page of honour. See Minsheu, and also Mids. Wept for thee in Helicon ;

A. Dr. A. ii. S. ii. And some flowers, and some bays,

“ I do but beg a little changeling boy For thy herse, to strew the ways,

To be my henchman." Sent thee from the banks of Came,

The Queen of Fairies is the speaker. Milton's Devotell to thy virtuous name;

curious expressions are in the first draught. Whilst thou, bright saint, high sitst in glory, Ver. 14. With those just spirits that wear the Next her, much like to thee in story,

blooming palms, That fair Syrian shepherdless,

Hymns devout and sacred psalmes Who, after years of barrenness,

Singing everlastingly; The highly favour'd Joseph bore

While all the starry rounds and arches To him that serv'd for her before,

blue And at her next birth, much like thee,

Resound and echa hallelu: Through pangs fled to felicity,

That we on Earth, &c. Far within the bosom bright

Ver. 18. May rightly answere that melodious Of blazing Majesty and Light :

noise, There with thee, new welcome saint,

By leaving out ihose harsh ill sounding Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,

jurres With thee there clad in radiant sheen,

Of clumorous sin that all our music No marchioness, but now a queen.



And in our lives and in our song

And misty regions of wide air next under, May keepe in tune with Heaven, &c. And hills of snow, and lofts of piled thunder, In the second draught he describes is the May tell at length bow green-ey'd Neptune harsh discordsof sin by a technical term in

raves, music :

In Heaven's defiance mustering all his wares; By leaving out these harsh CHROMATIC

Then sing of secret things that came to pass jarres

When beldam Nature in her cradle was; of sin that all our music marres : And last of kings, and queens, and heroes old, Ver. 19. As once we could, &c.

Such as the wise Demodocus once told Ver. 28. To live and sing with him in endlesse In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast, morne of light.

While sad Ulysses' soul, and all the rest,
Are held, with his melodious harmony,

In willing chains and sweet captivity.

But fie, my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray!
Expectance calls thee now another way;
Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent

To keep in compass of thy predicament :

Then quick about thy purpos'd business come,

That to the next I may resign my room. AT A VACATION EXERCISE IN THE COLLEGE, part Latin, part English. The Latin speeches ended, Then Ens is represented as father of the Predica. the English thus began.'

ments his two sons, whereof the eldest stood for Hall, native Language, that by sinews weak Substance with his cunons, which Ens, thus speukDidst move my first endeavouring tongue to

ing, explains. speak,

Good luck befriend thee, son; for, at thy birth, And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips,

The faery ladies danc'd upon the hearth; Half unpronounc’d, slide through my infant- Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spie lips,

Come tripping to the room where tbou didst lie, Driving dumb Silence from the portal door, And, sweetly singing round about thy bed, Where he had mutely sat two years before: Strew all their blessings.on thy sleeping head. Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask,

She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst That now I use thee in my latter task :

still Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,

From eyes of mortals walk invisible : I know my tongue but little grace can do thee : Yet there is something that doth force my fear; Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,

For once it was my dismal hap to hear Believe me I have thither pack'd the worst : A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age, And, if it happen as I did forecast,

That far events full wisely could presage, The daintiest dishes shall be serv'd up last. And in Time's long and dark prospective glass, I pray thee then deny me not thy aid

Foresaw what future days should bring to pass ; For this same small neglect that I have made : “ Your son,” said she, (“nor can you it prevent) But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,

Shall subject be to many an Accident. And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest trea- O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king, sure,

Yet every one shall make bim underling; Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight And those, that cannot live from him asunder, Which takes our late fantastics with delight;

Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under; But cull those richest robes, and gay'st attire, In worth and excellence he shall out-go them, Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire:

Yet, being above them, he shall be belos I have some naked thoughts that rove about,

them; And loudly knock to have their passage out ; From others he shall stand in need of nothing, And, weary of their place, do only stay,

Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing. Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array ; To find a foe it shall not be his hap, That so they may, without suspect or fears, And Peace shall lull him in her flowery lap; Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears;

Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door Yet I had rather, if I were to chuse,

Devouring War shall never cease to roar; Thy service in some graver subject use,

Yea, it shall be bis natural property such as may make thee search thy coffers round, To harbour those that are at enmity. (not Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound :

What power, what force, what mighty spell, if Such, where the deep transported mind may Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian

knot?” Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven's door Look in, and see each blissful deity

The next Quantity and Quality spake in prose; How he before the thunderous throne doth lie,

then Relation was called by his name. Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings. Rivers, arise ; whether thou be the son Immortal nectar to her kingly sire :

Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulphy Den, Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire, Or Trent, who like some Earth-born giant,

spread's Written 1627. It is hard to say why they did His thirty arms along the indented meads; not first appear in edition 1645. They were first Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath ; added, but inisplaced in edit. 1673. WARTON. Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death,


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