ON HIS BLINDNESS
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide,- Doth God exact day-labour, light denied? I fondly ask :-But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies; God doth not need Either man's work, or His own gifts: who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest :— They also serve who only stand and wait.
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will: Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame, or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise Or vice; Who never understood How deepest wounds are given by praise; Nor rules of state, but rules of good:
Who hath his life from rumours freed, Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make accusers great;
Who God doth late and early pray More of His grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend;
-This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And having nothing, yet hath all.
THE NOBLE NATURE
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make Man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day
Although it fall and die that night— It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be. B. JONSON
THE GIFTS OF GOD
When God at first made Man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by; Let us (said He) pour on him all we can : Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie, Contract into a span.
So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, Rest in the bottom lay.
For if I should (said He)
Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore My gifts instead of Me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be.
Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness: Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.
Happy those early days, when I Shined in my Angel-infancy! Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walk'd above A mile or two from my first Love, And looking back, at that short space Could see a glimpse of His bright face; When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several sin to every sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track! That I once more might reach that plain, Where first I left my glorious train; From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees That shady City of Palm-trees!
But ah! my soul with too much stay Is drunk, and staggers in the way :- Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move; And when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return.
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
From the hard season gaining ?
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise. J. MILTON
TO CYRIACK SKINNER
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench Of British Themis, with no mean applause Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, Which others at their bar so often wrench;
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting draws; Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. J. MILTON
HYMN TO DIANA
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair
State in wonted manner keep : Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wishéd sight, Goddess excellently bright.
« ПретходнаНастави » |