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But thou, O Hope! with eyes fo fair,
What was thy delighted measure!
Still it whifper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely fcenes at diftance hail.
Still would her touch the ftrain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo ftill through all her fong:
And, where her fweeteft theme fhe chofe,
A foft refponfive voice was heard at every
clofe ;
And Hope, enchanted, fmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair:
And longer had fhe fung-but, with a frown,

Revenge impatient rofe.

He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And, with a withering look,

The war-denouncing trumpet took,
And blew a blaft, fo loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of wo:

And, ever and anon, he beat

The doubling drum, with furious heat.

And though, fometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity at his fide,

Her foul-fubduing voice apply'd,

Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien;
While each strain'd ball of fight-feem'd burfting from
his head.

Thy numbers, Jealoufy, to nought were fix'd;
Sad proof of thy diftrefsful ftate.

Of differing themes the veering fong was mix'd :
And, now, it courted Love; now, raving, call'd on Hate.

With eyes up-rais'd, as one infpir'd,

Pale Melancholy fat retir'd;

And, from her wild fequefter'd feat,

In notes by distance made more sweet,

Pour'd through the mellow horn her penfive foul:
And, dafhing foft, from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels join'd the found.

Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er fome haunted ftreams, with fond delay,
(Round an holy calm diffufing,

Love of peace and lonely mufing)

In hollow murmurs died away.

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But, O, how alter'd was its fprightlier tone!
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her fhoulder flung,

Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. The oak-crown'd Sifters, and their chafte-eyed Queen Satyrs, and fylvan Boys, were feen,

Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercife rejoic'd to hear;

And sport leapt up, and feiz'd his beechen spear

Laft came Joy's ecftatic trial.

He, with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand address'd; But, foon he saw the brifk awakening viol,

Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the beft. "They would have thought who heard the ftrain, They faw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amid the feftal-founding fhades,

To fome unweary'd minstrel dancing;

While, as his flying fingers kifs'd the frings,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
(Loose were her treffes feen, her zone unbound)
And he, amidft his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

SECT.

SECTION VIII.

I. Milton's Lamentation for the Lofs of his Sight.

HA

AIL, holy light! offspring of heav'n first-born!
Or, of th' Eternal, coeternal beam!
May I exprefs thee unblam'd? fince God is light,
And never but in unapproached light

Dwelt from eternity; dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
Or, hear it thou, rather, pure ethereal stream,
Whofe fountain who fhall tell? Before the fun,
Before the heav'ns thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a mantle didft invest

The rifing world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formlefs infinite.
The I revifit now with bolder wing,
Efcap'd the Stygian pool, though long detain'd
In that obfcure fojourn; while in my flight
Through utter and through middle darkneís borne,
With other notes than to the Orphéan lyre,
I fung of Chaos and eternal Night;

Taught by the heav'nly Mufe to venture down
The dark defcent and up to re-afcend,
Though hard and rare. Thee I revifit fafe,
And feel thy fovereign vital lamp; but thou
Revifit'ft not thefe eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop ferene hath quench'd their orbs,
Or dim fuffufion veil'd. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt
Clear Spring, or fhady grove, or funny hill,
Smit with the love of facred fong; but chief
Thee, Sion, and the flow'ry brooks beneath
That wash thy hallow'd feet and warbling flow,
Nightly I vifit: nor fometimes forget
Those other two equall'd with me in fate,
So were I equall'd with them in renown,
Blind Thamyris, and blind Mæonides;
And Tyrefias, and Phineus, prophets old :

T 2.

Then

Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and, in fhadieft covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus, with the year.
Seafons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the fweet approach of even or morn,
Or fight of vernal bloom, or fummer's rofe,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud inftead, and ever-during dark
Surround me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair,
Prefented with an universal blank

Of nature's works, to me expung'd and ras'd,
And wisdom, at one entrance, quite fhut out.
So much the rather, thou, celestial light,

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mift from thence
Purge and difperfe; that I may fee and tell
Of things invifible to mortal fight.

II. L'Allegro, or the Merry Man.

HENCE, loathed Melancholy!

Of Cerberus and blackeft Midnight born,

In Stygian cave forlorn,

'Mongit horrid thapes, and fhrieks, and fights unholy; Find out fome uncouth cell,

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven fings;

There under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.

But come, thou goddess fair and free,
In heav'n yclep'd Euphrofyne!
And, by men, heart-eafing Mirth;
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,
With two fifter-Graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore.
Hafte thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jeft and youthful jollity,

Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed fmiles;

Such

Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,

And love to live in dimple fleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides;
And Laughter, holding both his fides.
Come! and trip it as you go

On the light fantastic toe;

And, in thy right hand, lead with thee?
The mountain nymph fweet Liberty;
And, if I give thee honour due,
Mirth admit me of thy crew,

To live with her, and live with thee:
In unreproved pleasures free:
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And, finging, startle the dull Night, -
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rife;
Then, to come in fpite of forrow,
And, at my window, bid goed-morrow,
Through the fweet briar, or the vine,.
Or the twisted eglantine:

>

While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn door, ›
Stoutly ftruts his dames before :
Oft lift'ning how the hounds and horn
Cheerly roufe the flumb'ring morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing fhrill::
Some time walking not unfeen

By hedge-row elms, or hillocks green,,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight:
While the ploughman near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid fingeth blithe,
And the mower whets his fcythe,
And every fhepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale. -

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures",
Whilft the landscape round it measures;

T-3

Ruffer

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