Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. 55 Ay me! I fondly dream "Had ye been there"-for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal Nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar 60 65 Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) 70 To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorrèd shears, 75 And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise," Nor in the glistering foil Set off to th' world, nor in 'broad rumour lies, 80 Of so much fame in heav'n expect thy meed." O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood; 85 But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea, That came in Neptune's plea. 90 He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, "What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?" And questioned every gust of rugged wings 95 And sage Hippotades their answer brings, Built in th' eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, 100 Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. 105 "Ah, who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?" Last came, and last did go, The Pilot of the Galilean Lake: Two massy keys he bore of metals twain ΙΙΟ (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: "How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake, Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold! 115 Of other care they little reck'ning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest. Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least 120 That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw: The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 125 But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. 130 135 Of shades and wanton winds and gushing brooks, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 140 145 150 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. For so, to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 155 Where thou, perhaps, under the whelming tide 160 Where the great vision of the guarded mount Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth; Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more; 165 For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him That walked the waves, 175 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, Thus sang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills, 1638. 180 185 190 WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY Captain or colonel or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 5 He can requite thee; for he knows the charms The great Emathian conqueror bid spare Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save th' Athenian walls from ruin bare. 1642. 1645. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY ΙΟ Till the sad breaking of that Parliament Killed with report that old man eloquent; So well your words his noble virtues praise 1645. ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs When straight a barbarous noise environs me As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs For who loves that must first be wise and good: 1673. 5 ΙΟ TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE COMMITTEE FOR PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, |