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Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,

Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magic chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful pow'r o'er true virginity.
Do you
believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of chastity?

Hence hath the huntress Dian' her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tam'd the brinded lioness

And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th'

woods.

What was the snaky-headed Gorgon shield, That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd

stone,

But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe?
So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream and solenn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turn it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal: but when lust,
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being.
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp
Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres,
Ling ring and sitting by a new-made grave,
As loth to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link'd itself by carnal sensuality
To a degenerate and degraded state.

§ 7. Philosophy. MILTON.

How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns!

§ 8. True Liberty. MILTON.

-TRUE Liberty
Is lost, which always with right reason dwells
Twinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being:
Reason in man obscur'd or not obey'd,
Immediately inordinate desires

And upstart passions catch the government
From reason, and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.

$9. Powers of Body and Mind. MILTON.

OH how comely it is, and how reviving
To the spirits of just men, long oppress'd,
When God into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,

To quell the mighty of the earth, th' oppressor,
The brute and boisterous force of violent men,
Hardy and industrious to support
The righteous, and all such as honor truth!
Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue

He all their ammunition
And feats of war defeats;
With plain heroic magnitude of mind,
Their armories and magazines contemns,
And celestial vigor arm'd,
Renders them useless, while
Swift as the lightning glance, he executes
With winged expedition,
His errand on the wicked, who, surpris'd,
Lose their defence, distracted and amaz'd.

§ 10. On Shakspeare. MILTON. WHAT needs my Shakspeare for his honor'd bones

The labor of an age in piled stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a starry-pointing pyramid ?
Dear son of memory! great heir of fame!
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy
Thou in our wonder and astonishment [name?
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouring

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ing;

That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie,

§ 11. Song: on May Morning. MILTON.

Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws

The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that dost 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.

§ 12. Virtue and Evil. MILTON. VIRTUE may be assail'd, but never hurt, Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd: Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm,

Shall in the happy trial prove most glory;
But even on itself shall back recoil,

And mix no more with goodness, when at last,
Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself,'
It shall be in eternal restless change

Self fed, and self-consumed: if this fail,
The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And earth's base built on stubble.

§ 13. Patience. MILTON.
MANY are the sayings of the wise,
In ancient and in modern books inroll'd,
Extolling Patience as the truest fortitude;
And to the bearing well of all calamities,
All chances incident to man's frail life,
Consolatories writ

[sought,
With studied argument, and much persuasion
Lenient of grief and anxious thought;
But with th afflicted, in his pangs, their sound
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune
Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his com-
Unless he feel within
[plaint;

Some source of consolation from above,
Secret refreshings, that repair his strength,
And fainting spirits uphold.

§ 14. Sonnet: on his deceased Wife. MILTON. METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband [faint.

gave,

Rescued from death by force, though pale and Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed Purification in the old law did save, [taint And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person

shin'd

So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But, oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, [night.
I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my
§15. Spirits. MILTON.
-SPIRITS, when they please,
Can either sex assume, or both; so soft
And uncompounded is their essence pure;
Not tied or manacled with joint or limb,
Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,
Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they
choose,

Dilated or condens'd, bright or obscure,
Can execute their airy purposes,
And works of love or enmity fulfil.

§ 16. Pain. MILTON.

-WHAT avails

[with pain, Valour or strength, though matchless, quell'd Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands Of mightiest? Sense of pleasure we may well Spare out of life, perhaps, and not repine; But live content, which is the calmest life: But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils! and, excessive, overturns All patience.

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And oft though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity Cill Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no Where no ill seems.

§ 18. The Lady reproving Comus. MILTON.

I HATE When vice can bolt her arguments, And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature, As if she would her children should be riotous Means her provision only to the good, With her abundance! she, good cateress, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare Temperance: If every just man, that now pines with want, Had but a moderate and beseeming share Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, Nature's full blessings would be well dispens'd In unsuperfluous even proportion, And she no whit encumber'd with her store, And then the giver would be better thank'd, His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besotted, base ingratitude

on?

Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go
Or have I said enough? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous
words

Against the sun-clad pow'r of Chastity,
Thou hast not ear, nor soul to apprehend
Fain would I something say, yet to what end?
The sublime notion, and high mystery
That must be utter'd to unfold the sage
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not
And serious doctrine of Virginity, [know
More happiness than this thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, [fence,
That hath so well been taught her dazzling
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinc'd;
Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence, [thize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves,
That dumb things would be mov'd to sympa-

and shake,

Till all the magic structures, rear'd so high, Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head.

$ 19. Sonnet to the Nightingale. MILTON. O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love; oh if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous pow'r to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretel my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: Whether the muse or love call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

MILTON.

§ 20. Echo: A Song. SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph! that liv'st Within thy airy shell,

22. Affections.

How great a toil to stem the raging flood, [unseen | When beauty stirs the mass of youthful blood When the swoln veins with circling torrents

By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroider'd vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale

Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair

That likest thy Narcissus are?

Oh if thou have

Hide them in some flow'ry cave,

Tell me but where, [sphere ! Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the So mayst thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all Heav'n's harmonies.

VARIOUS DESCRIPTIONS FROM SPENSER.

21. Adonis's Garden.

BUT were it not that Time their troubler is, All that in this delightful garden grows

Should happy be, and have immortal bliss: For here all plenty and all pleasure flowes, And sweet love gentle fits emongst them throws, Without fell rancour, or fond jealousie ; Frankly each paramour his leman knows, Each bird his mate; ne any does envie Their goodly merriment, and gay felicitie.

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Right in the middest of that paradise There stood a stately mount, on whose round top

A gloomy grove of myrtle trees did rise, Whose shadie boughs sharp steele did never lop, Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop : But, like a girlond compassed the hight, And from their fruitfull sides sweet gumes did drop,

That all the ground with precious dew bedight,

Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet delight!

And, in the thickest covert in that shade, There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,

But of the trees own inclination made, Which knitting their ranke branches part to

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Wrath, jealousy, grief, love, do thus expell: Wrath is a fire, and jealousy a weed;

Grief is a flood, and love a monster fell; The fire of sparke, the weed of little seed, The flood of drops, the monster filth did breed: But sparks, seed, drops, and filth do thus decay;

The sparks soon quench, the springing seed outweed,

The drops dry up, and filth wipe clean away; So shall wrath, jealousy, grief, love, die and decay.

23. Ambition.

A ROUT of people there assembled were, Of every sort and nation under sky,

Which with great uprore preassed, to draw

near

To th' upper part, where was advanced hie
A stately seat of soveraigne majestie,

And thereon sate a woman gorgeous gay,
And richly clad in robes of royaltie.

That never earthly prince in such array His glory did enchaunce, and pompous pride display.

Her face right wondrous faire did seem to be, That her broad beauties beam great brightness threw

Through the dim shade, that all men here might see:

Yet was not that same her own native hew, But wrought by art; and counterfeited shew, Thereby more lovers unto her to call; Nath'less, more heavenly faire in deed and view She by creation was, till she did fall; Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloke her crimes withall.

There, as in glist'ring glory she did sit, She held a great gold chain' ylinked well, Whose upper end to highest heaven was knit, And lower part did reach to lowest hell; And all that prease did round about her swell, To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby

To climb aloft, and others to excell;

That was Ambition, rash desire to stie; And ev'ry link thereof a step of dignitie.

Some thought to raise themselves to high degree

By riches and unrighteous reward;

Some by close should'ring, some by flatteree; Others through friends, others for base reward; And all, by wrong ways, for themselves prepar'd.

Those that were up themselves, kept others lowe;

Those that were lowe themselves held others hard,

Ne suffer'd them to rise, or greater growe; But every one did strive his fellow down to throwe.

O sacred hunger of ambitious mindes, And impotent desire of men to raigne!

Who neither dread of God, that devils bindes, Nor lawes of men that commonweals containe, Nor bands of nature, that wild beasts restraine, Can keep from outrage, and from doing wrong, Where they may hope a kingdom to obtaine,

No faith so firm, no trust can be so strong, No love so lasting then, that may enduren long.

§ 24. Anguish.

WHAT equal torment to the griefe of minde, And pyning anguish hid in gentle heart,

That inly feeds itself with thoughts unkinde, And nourisheth her own consuming smart? What medicine can any leache's art

Yield such a sore, that doth her grievance And will to none her maladie impart? [hide,

§ 25. Arbour.

AND over him art striveing to compaire With nature, did an arbour green dispred,

Framed with wanton ivie, flowering faire, Through which the fragrant eglantine did spred His pricking armes, entayl'd with roses red, Which dainty odours round about him threw; And all within with flowres was garnished, That, when mild Zephyrus emongst them blew,

Did breathe out bounteous smells, and painted colors shew.

§ 26. Avarice.

AND greedy Avarice by him did ride, Upon a camel loaden all with gold;

Two iron coffers hung on either side, With precious metall full as they might hold, And in his lap a heap of coin he told;

For of his wicked pelf his god he made, And unto hell himself for money sold: Accursed usury was all his trade, [waide. And right and wrong ylike in equall balance

At last he came into a gloomy glade, [light, Cover'd with boughs and shrubs from heaven's Whereas he sitting found, in secret shade, An uncouth, salvage, and uncivill wight,

Of griesly hew, and foul ill-favour'd sight; His face with smoake was tann'd, and eyes were blear'd;

His head and beard with soot were ill bedight; His coale-black hands did seem to have been

sear'd

In smithe's fire-speting forge, and nails like claws appear'd.

Was underneath enveloped with gold,
His iron coat, all overgrown with rust,

Whose glistring gloss, darkened with filthy
dust,

Well it appeared to have been of old
A work of rich entaile, and curious mould,
Woven with anticks, and wild imagery;
And in his lap a mass of coine he told,

And turn'd upside down, to feed his eye,
And covetous desire, with his huge treasury.
And round about him lay, on every side,
Great heaps of gold, that never could be spent ;
Of which, some were ore not purifide
Of Mulciber's devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent

Into great ingots, and to wedges square; Some in round plates withouten monument; But most were stampt, and in their metall bare

The antick shapes of kings and Cæsars strange and rare.

§ 27. Bashfulness.

THE whiles the fairie knight did entertaine Another damsel of that gentle crew

That was right faire, and modest of demaine, But that too oft she chang'd her native hue. Strange was her tire, and all her garments blue, Close round about her tuckt, with many a

plight:

Upon her fist, the bird that shunneth view,

And keeps in coverts close from living wight, Did sit, asifasham'd how rude Dan did herdight.

So long as Guyon with her commun'd, Unto the ground she cast her modest eye,

And ever and anone, with rosie red," The bashfull blood her snowy cheeks did die, And her became as polish'd ivorie,

Which cunning craftsman's hand hath overlaid

With fair vermillion, or pure lastery.
Great wonder had the knight to see the maid
So strangely passioned, and to her gently said;

Fair damsell, seemeth by your troubled cheare
That either me too bold yee weene, this wise
You to molest, or other ill to feare,
That in the secret of your heart close lyes,
From whence it doth, as cloud from sca, arise.
If it be I, of pardon I you pray;
But if ought else that I mote not devise,
I will (if please you it discrue) assay
To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may.

She answer'd nought, but more abasht for

shame,

Held down her head, the whiles her lovely face

The flushing blood with blushing did inflame, And the strong passion marr'd her modest grace,

That Guyon marvail'd at her uncouth case:
Till Alma him bespake, Why wonder yee,
Fair sir, at that which you so much imbrace?
She is the fountaine of your modestee:
You shame-fac'd are, but Shame-fac'dness itself
is shee.

Another.

AND next to her sate goodly Shame-fac'dness; Ne ever durst her eyes from ground up-reare, Ne ever once did look up from her dress, As if some blame of evil she did feare,

That in her cheek made roses oft appeare.

§ 28. Beauty.

NOUGHT is there under heav'n's wide hollow

ness

That moves more dear compassion of mind, Than beauty brought t' unworthy wretched

ness

By envy's snares or fortunes's freaks unkind:
I, whether lately through her brightness blind,
Or through allegiance and fast fealty,
Which I do owe unto all womankind,

Feel my heart pierc'd with so great agony, When such I see, that all for pity I could die. Eftsoons there stepped forth

A goodly lady, clad in hunter's weed,
That seem'd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance borne of heavenly
birth.

Her face so fair, as flesh it seemed not,
But heavenly portraict of bright angels hiew,
Clear as the sky withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexions dew,
And in her cheeks the vermill' red did shew

Like roses in a bed of lillies shed, The which ambrosial odours from them threw, And gazers sense with double pleasure fed, Able to heal the sick, and to revive the dead.

In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, Kindled above, at th' heavenly Maker's light, And darted fiery beams out of the same, So passing pearceant, and so wondrous bright, That quite bercav'd the rash beholders of their sight:

In them the blinded god his lustful fire To kindle oft assay'd, but had no might;

For, with dread majesty, and awful ire, She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure The sense of man, and all his mind possess,

As beauty's love-bait, that doth procure Great warriors of their rigour to repress, And mighty hands forget their manliness, Drawn with the pow'r ofan heart-robbing eye, And wrapt in fetters of a golden tress,

That can with melting pleasance mollify Their harden'd hearts, enur'd to blood and cruelty.

So whilome learn'd that mighty Jewish swain, Each of whose locks did match a man of might, To lay his spoils before his leman's train:

So also did the great Cetean knight,
For his love's sake, his lion's skin undight:
And so did warlike Antony neglect
The world's whole rule, for Cleopatra's sight.
Such wond'rous pow're has women's fair aspect,
To captive men, and make them all the world
reject.

§ 29. Boar.

AND then two boars with rankling malice

met,

Their goary sides, fresh bleeding, fiercely fret, Till, breathless both, themselves aside retire, Where foaming wroth their cruel tusks they whet,

And trample th' earth the while they may respire:

Then back to fight again, new breathed and entire.

$30. Bower of Bliss.

THENCE passing forth, they shortly do arrive. Whereat the Bower of Bliss was situate;

A place pick'd out by choice of best alive,
That nature's work by art can imitate;
In which whatever in this worldly state

Is sweet and pleasing unto living sense,
Or that may daintiest fantasie aggrate,

Was poured forth with plentiful dispense, And made there to abound with lavish affluence. Goodly it was enclosed round about, As well their enter'd guests to keep within,

As those unruly beasts to hold without; Yet was the fence thereof but weak and thin: Nought fear'd their force that fortilage to win,

But wisdom's powre and temperance's might, By which the nightiest things efforced bin: And eke the gate was wrought of substance light,

Rather for pleasure than for battery or fight.
It framed was of precious yvory,
That seem'd a work of admirable wit;

And therein all the famous historie

Of Jalon and Medea was ywrit;
Her mighty charmes, her furious loving fit,
His goodly conquest of the golden fleece,
His falsed faith, and love to lightly flit,

The wondred Argo, which invent'rous peece First through the Euxian seas bore all the flow'r of Greece.

Ye might have seen the frothy billowes fry
Under the ship, as thorough them she went,
That seemed waves were into yvory,
Or yvory into the waves were sent:
And other where the snowy substance sprent,
With vermill-like the boyes bloud therein
shed,

And otherwhiles with gold besprinkeled,
A piteous spectacle did represent;

It seem'd the enchanted flame which did Creüsa wed.

All this and more might in this goodly gate Be read; that ever open stood to all

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