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    The Complete Poems (Penguin Classics)

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      Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,

      Obtruding false rules pranked in reason’s garb.

      760 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

      With her abundance; she good cateress

      765 Means her provision only to the good

      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

      770 Of that which lewdly–pampered Luxury

      Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,

      Nature’s full blessings would be well-dispensed

      In unsuperfluous even proportion,

      And she no whit encumbered with her store;

      775 And then the Giver would be better thanked,

      His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony

      Ne’er looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,

      But with besotted base ingratitude

      Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?

      780 Or have I said enough? To him that dares

      Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words

      Against the sun–clad power of Chastity,

      Fain would I something say, yet to what end?

      Thou hast nor ear, nor soul to apprehend

      785 The súblime notion, and high mystery

      That must be uttered to unfold the sage

      And serious doctrine of Virginity,

      And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know

      More happiness than this thy present lot.

      790 Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric

      That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence,

      Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced;

      Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worth

      Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits

      795 To such a flame of sacred vehemence,

      That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,

      And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake,

      Till all thy magic structures reared so high,

      Were shattered into heaps o’er thy false head.

      800 Comus. She fables not, I feel that I do fear

      Her words set off by some superior power;

      And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew

      Dips me all o’er, as when the wrath of Jove

      Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus

      805 To some of Saturn’s crew. I must dissemble,

      And try her yet more strongly. Come, no more,

      This is mere moral babble, and direct

      Against the canon laws of our foundation;

      I must not suffer this; yet ’tis but the lees

      810 And settlings of a melancholy blood;

      But this will cure all straight, one sip of this

      Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight

      Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.—

      The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in; the Attendant Spirit comes in.

      Spirit. What, have you let the false enchanter ’scape?

      815 O ye mistook, ye should have snatched his wand

      And bound him fast; without his rod reversed,

      And backward mutters of dissevering power,

      We cannot free the Lady that sits here

      In stony fetters fixed, and motionless;

      820 Yet stay, be not disturbed, now I bethink me,

      Some other means I have which may be used,

      Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt,

      The soothest shepherd that e’er piped on plains.

      There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,

      825 That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,

      Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure;

      Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,

      That had the sceptre from his father Brute.

      She guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit

      830 Of her enragèd stepdame Guendolen,

      Commended her fair innocence to the flood

      That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course;

      The water nymphs that in the bottom played,

      Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,

      835 Bearing her straight to agèd Nereus’ hall,

      Who piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,

      And gave her to his daughters to imbathe

      In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,

      And through the porch and inlet of each sense

      840 Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived,

      And underwent a quick immortal change

      Made goddess of the river; still she retains

      Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve

      Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,

      845 Helping all urchin blasts, and ill–luck signs

      That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,

      Which she with precious vialed liquors heals.

      For which the shepherds at their festivals

      Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,

      850 And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream

      Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.

      And, as the old swain said, she can unlock

      The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,

      If she be right invoked in warbled song,

      855 For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift

      To aid a virgin, such as was herself

      In hard–besetting need; this will I try

      And add the power of some adjuring verse.

      Song

      Sabrina fair,

      860 Listen where thou art sitting

      Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

      In twisted braids of lilies knitting

      The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;

      Listen for dear honour’s sake,

      865 Goddess of the silver lake,

      Listen and save.

      Listen and appear to us

      In name of great Oceanus,

      By th’ earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,

      870 And Tethys’ grave majestic pace,

      By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look,

      And the Carpathian wizard’s hook,

      By scaly Triton’s winding shell,

      And old sooth-saying Glaucus’ spell,

      875 By Leucothea’s lovely hands,

      And her son that rules the strands,

      By Thetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,

      And the songs of Sirens sweet,

      By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,

      880 And fair Ligea’s golden comb,

      Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks

      Sleeking her soft alluring locks,

      By all the nymphs that nightly dance

      Upon thy streams with wily glance,

      885 Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head

      From thy coral-paven bed,

      And bridle in thy headlong wave,

      Till thou our summons answered have.

      Listen and save.

      Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings,

      890 By the rushy-fringèd bank,

      Where grows the willow and the osier dank,

      My sliding chariot stays,

      Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen

      Of turkis blue, and emerald green

      895 That in the channel strays,

      Whilst from off the waters fleet

      Thus I set my printless feet

      O’er the cowslip’s velvet head,

      That bends not as I tread;

      900 Gentle swain at thy request

      I am here.

      Spirit. Goddess dear

    &nb
    sp; We implore thy powerful hand

      To undo the charmèd band

      905 Of true virgin here distressed,

      Through the force, and through the wile

      Of unblest enchanter vile.

      Sabrina. Shepherd ’tis my office best

      To help ensnarèd chastity;

      910 Brightest Lady look on me,

      Thus I sprinkle on thy breast

      Drops that from my fountain pure,

      I have kept of precious cure;

      Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,

      915 Thrice upon thy rubied lip,

      Next this marble venomed seat

      Smeared with gums of glutinous heat

      I touch with chaste palms moist and cold,

      Now the spell hath lost his hold;

      920 And I must haste ere morning hour

      To wait in Amphitrite’s bower.

      Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

      Spirit. Virgin, daughter of Locrine

      Sprung of old Anchises’ line,

      May thy brimmèd waves for this

      925 Their full tribute never miss

      From a thousand petty rills,

      That tumble down the snowy hills:

      Summer drought, or singèd air

      Never scorch thy tresses fair,

      930 Nor wet October’s torrent flood

      Thy molten crystal fill with mud,

      May thy billows roll ashore

      The beryl, and the golden ore;

      May thy lofty head be crowned

      935 With many a tower and terrace round,

      And here and there thy banks upon

      With groves of myrrh, and cinnamon.

      Come Lady while Heaven lends us grace,

      Let us fly this cursèd place,

      940 Lest the sorcerer us entice

      With some other new device.

      Not a waste, or needless sound

      Till we come to holier ground;

      I shall be your faithful guide

      945 Through this gloomy covert wide,

      And not many furlongs thence

      Is your father’s residence,

      Where this night are met in state

      Many a friend to gratulate

      950 His wished presence, and beside

      All the swains that there abide,

      With jigs, and rural dance resort,

      We shall catch them at their sport,

      And our sudden coming there

      955 Will double all their mirth and cheer;

      Come let us haste, the stars grow high,

      But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

      The scene changes presenting Ludlow Town and the President’s Castle, then come in country dancers, after them the Attendant Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.

      Song

      Spirit. Back shepherds, back, enough your play,

      Till next sunshine holiday,

      960 Here be without duck or nod

      Other trippings to be trod

      Of lighter toes, and such court guise

      As Mercury did first devise

      With the mincing Dryades

      965 On the lawns, and on the leas.

      This second song presents them to their father and mother.

      Noble Lord, and Lady bright,

      I have brought ye new delight,

      Here behold so goodly grown

      Three fair branches of your own;

      970 Heav’n hath timely tried their youth,

      Their faith, their patience, and their truth.

      And sent them here through hard assays

      With a crown of deathless praise,

      To triumph in victorious dance

      975 O’er sensual folly, and intemperance.

      The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes.

      Spirit. To the Ocean now I fly,

      And those happy climes that lie

      Where day never shuts his eye,

      Up in the broad fields of the sky:

      980 There I suck the liquid air

      All amidst the gardens fair

      Of Hesperus, and his daughters three

      That sing about the golden tree:

      Along the crispèd shades and bow’rs

      985 Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;

      The Graces, and the rosy–bosomed Hours,

      Thither all their bounties bring,

      That there eternal Summer dwells,

      And west winds, with musky wing

      990 About the cedarn alleys fling

      Nard, and cassia’s balmy smells.

      Iris there with humid bow,

      Waters the odorous banks that blow

      Flowers of more mingled hue

      995 Than her purfled scarf can show,

      And drenches with Elysian dew

      (List mortals, if your ears be true)

      Beds of hyacinth, and roses

      Where young Adonis oft reposes,

      1000 Waxing well of his deep wound

      In slumber soft, and on the ground

      Sadly sits th’ Assyrian queen;

      But far above in spangled sheen

      Celestial Cupid her famed son advanced,

      1005 Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced

      After her wand’ring labours long,

      Till free consent the gods among

      Make her his eternal bride,

      And from her fair unspotted side

      1010 Two blissful twins are to be born,

      Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.

      But now my task is smoothly done,

      I can fly, or I can run

      Quickly to the green earth’s end,

      1015 Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,

      And from thence can soar as soon

      To the corners of the moon.

      Mortals that would follow me,

      Love Virtue, she alone is free,

      1020 She can teach ye how to climb

      Higher than the sphery chime;

      Or if Virtue feeble were,

      Heav’n itself would stoop to her.

      ENGLISH POEMS ADDED IN 1673

      On the Death of a Fair Infant Dying of a Cough Anno aetatis 17

      I

      O fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted,

      Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,

      Summer’s chief honour if thou hadst outlasted

      Bleak Winter’s force that made thy blossom dry;

      5 For he being amorous on that lovely dye

      That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss

      But killed alas, and then bewailed his fatal bliss.

      II

      For since grim Aquilo his charioteer

      By boist’rous rape th’ Athenian damsel got,

      10 He thought it touched his deity full near,

      If likewise he some fair one wedded not,

      Thereby to wipe away th’ infámous blot

      Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,

      Which ’mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.

      III

      15 So mounting up in icy-pearlèd car,

      Through middle empire of the freezing air

      He wandered long, till thee he spied from far;

      There ended was his quest, there ceased his care.

      Down he descended from his snow-soft chair,

      20 But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace

      Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place.

      IV

      Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;

      For so Apollo, with unweeting hand

      Whilom did slay his dearly-lovèd mate

      25 Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas’ strand,

      Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;

      But then transformed him to a purple flower;

      Alack that so to change thee Winter had no power.

      V

      Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead

      30 Or that thy corse corrupts in earth’s dark womb,

      Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,


      Hid from the world in a low-delvèd tomb;

      Could Heav’n for pity thee so strictly doom?

      O no! for something in thy face did shine

      35 Above mortality that showed thou wast divine.

      VI

      Resolve me then O soul most surely blest

      (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear),

      Tell me bright spirit where’er thou hoverest,

      Whether above that high first-moving sphere

      40 Or in the Elysian fields (if such there were),

      O say me true if thou wert mortal wight,

      And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight.

      VII

      Wert thou some star which from the ruined roof

      Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall;

      45 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

      Of sheeny heav’n, and thou some goddess fled

      Amongst us here below to hide thy nectared head?

      VIII

      50 Or wert thou that just maid who once before

      Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,

      And cam’st again to visit us once more?

      Or wert thou [Mercy] that sweet smiling youth?

      Or that crowned matron, sage white-robèd Truth?

      55 Or any other of that Heav’nly brood

      Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good?

      IX

      Or wert thou of the golden-wingèd host,

      Who having clad thyself in human weed,

      To earth from thy prefixèd seat didst post,

      60 And after short abode fly back with speed,

      As if to show what creatures Heav’n doth breed,

      Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire

      To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav’n aspire?

      X

      But O why didst thou not stay here below

      65 To bless us with thy Heav’n-loved innocence,

      To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe,

      To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence,

      Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence,

      To stand ’twixt us and our deservèd smart?

      70 But thou canst best perform that office where thou art.

      XI

      Then thou the mother of so sweet a child

      Her false imagined loss cease to lament,

      And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;

      Think what a present thou to God hast sent,

      75 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 name to live.

      At a Vacation Exercise in the College, part Latin,

      part English

      Anno aetatis 19

      The Latin Speeches ended, the English thus began

     


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