THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 BY 
 
 J.C.STOBART,MA 
 
EPOCHS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
EPOCHS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 
 UNIFOEM WITH THIS VOLUME 
 
 VOL. I. The Chaucer Epoch, 12151500 
 ,. II. The Spenser Epoch, 15001600 
 ,, III. The Shakespeare Epoch, 16001625 
 ,, IV. The Milton Epoch, 16251671 
 ,, V. The Dryden Epoch, 1660 1700 
 VI. The Pope Epoch, 17001750 
 VII. The Johnson Epoch, 17501798 
 VIII. The Wordsworth Epoch, 17981830 
 IX. The Tennyson Epoch, 1830 present day 
 
EPOCHS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 BY 
 
 J. G. STOBAKT, M.A. 
 
 FORMERLY ASSISTANT MASTER AT MERCHANT TAYLORS' SCHOOL 
 
 LONDON 
 EDWARD ARNOLD 
 
 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, BOND STREET, W. 
 
 [All right* reserved] 
 
Made and Printed in Great Britain by 
 UN WIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, LONDON AND WOK IN O 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE series of which this volume is the fourth may be said to 
 have three objects : First, to teach the history of our literature 
 in a rational and orderly manner ; second, to illuminate the 
 history of England by exhibiting the thoughts of its men of 
 letters in their own words ; and, third, to display, as if in a 
 gallery, some specimens of the inheritance into which every 
 English-reading boy and girl has entered. It has been too 
 long the practice to teach English literature in handbooks 
 which give only the briefest examples, if any, of the works 
 they profess to describe; and our many excellent school 
 anthologies, from their want of a definite historical arrange- 
 ment, and the absence of prose, fail almost entirely to give a 
 connected view of the development of our language. Now, 
 the history of our literature, falling, as it undoubtedly does, 
 into a series of well-marked periods of excellence, appears to 
 lend itself peculiarly to the historical treatment suggested by 
 the word ' epoch.' 
 
 My general principles of selection are three the intrinsic 
 merit and interest of the piece, its convenience for use in 
 schools, and its ability to stand by itself without great detri- 
 ment from the absence of context. ' Scrappiness ' is a charge 
 to which all such collections are open ; but I have tried to 
 lessen its force by the preponderance of lyric songs, and the 
 insertion of Comus and Book VI. of Paradise Lost complete. 
 
 J. C. S. 
 
 ', 1906. 
 
I CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION - - 1 
 
 I. SIR T. BROWNE BBLIGIO MEDICI and URN-BURIAL - 17 
 
 II. GEORGE HERBERT THE PULLEY - - 29 
 
 III. MILTON COMUS - 30 
 
 IV. MILTON PARADISE LOST (Boon VI.) - 61 
 V. MILTON SAMSON BLIND - 88 
 
 VI. MILTON ON SHAKESPEAR - - 89 
 
 VII. MILTON FOUR SONNETS - 89 
 
 VIII. HERRICK FOURTEEN POEMS - - 91 
 
 IX. WITHER His RESOLUTION - - 99 
 
 X. HENRY KING THE DIRGE - - 101 
 
 XI. SUCKLING THE INCONSTANT LOVER - - 102 
 
 XII. LOVELACE To LUCASTA and To ALTHEA - - 103 
 
 XIII. CAREW SONG and IN BLISS - - 104 
 
 XIV. CRASHAW THE WEEPER - - - 105 
 XV. VAUGHAN DEPARTED FRIENDS - 108 
 
 XVI. SHIRLEY DEATH THE LEVELLER - - 109 
 
 XVII. MARVELL THE GARDEN - 110 
 
 XVIII. BALLAD FAIR HELEN - - 113 
 
 XIX. IZAAK WALTON COMPLEAT ANGLER - - - 114 
 
 XX. BALLAD THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON - 121 
 
 NOTBS - . 125 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX - .... 151 
 
 vii 
 
'Nay he dooth, as if your iourney should lye through a 
 fayre Vineyard, at the first give you a cluster of Grapes ; 
 that full of that taste, you may long to passe further.' 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 
 
THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 INTBODUCTION 
 
 The Epic. To have produced a Shakespeare would be glory 
 enough for most nations, but to have produced a Milton in 
 the next generation is the peculiar achievement of English 
 literature. The drama Shakespeare exhausted : its decay set 
 in before his death. In. lyric verse, also, he touched the 
 highest ; but there was one department of poetry which he 
 left to his successors to perfect. That department was the 
 jjjnc, and the challenge was almost immediately accepted. 
 Milton stands, with Homer, Vergil, and Dante, among the 
 great epic poets of the world. Now, the conditions of epic 
 poetry are these : It must be large in scope and treatment ; 
 it must tell a story ; it must have a hero, and its hero must be 
 heroic. Moreover, as epics are rare, so they are commonly 
 occasioned by some great stirring of national feeling as 
 Homer by the triumph of the Achaean race, Vergil by the 
 new and hopeful creation of the Roman Empire, Dante by 
 the glory of reawakened Florence. And so the occasion of 
 Milton's work was the vast religious and political upheaval 
 which asserted English liberty against the encroachments of 
 the Stuarts. 
 
 Roundhead and Cavalier. The contents of this book are 
 typical of the history of its period. Here, also, Catholic and 
 Puritan jostle one another, Cavalier and Roundhead strive 
 
 1 
 
2 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 for the mastery. Herrick, for example, balances his sportive 
 Hesperides with his Noble Numbers. But certainly here also 
 the religious poets prevail. Beside Milton and Herrick, 
 we have here nearly all the best religious poets of our 
 literature : George Herbert, Henry Vaughan, Crashaw, 
 King, Quarles, Habington, and Wither. All these, on one 
 side or the other, bear witness to the fact that the ferment 
 which was going on in the State was essentially a matter of 
 religion. Religion and politics have ever been closely linked 
 in English history, and even to-day religious questions are at 
 the root of most of our political differences. The fact is a 
 commonplace of history, but in reviewing the literature of 
 this important period it is especially brought home to us by 
 the character of the literature. Our first .epoch was rpmajitic ; 
 our second, amorous ; our third, dramatic ; this is religious. 
 
 Milton. JOHN MILTON was born in Bread Street, a narrow 
 thoroughfare which crosses Cheapside almost under the shadow 
 of St. Paul's. It is close to the famous Mermaid Tavern, and 
 Milton as a boy must have seen its doors open to admit the 
 happy, nimble witted Shakespeare, with that erudite giant his 
 friend Ben Jonson. John Milton was born in the year 1608, 
 the third child of a prosperous and religious scrivener, who 
 very soon perceived the talents of his son and spared no pains 
 to improve them. He was taught at St. Paul's School, and 
 his tutor at home was Thomas Young, for whom he conceived 
 a life-long admiration. From St. Paul's he went, at the age of 
 sixteen, to Christ's College, Cambridge, already an accom- 
 plished scholar who wrote Latin almost as a native language, 
 a boy of such purity and personal beauty that he was nick- 
 named " The-JLady of Christ's." Seven years he spent in 
 study on the banks of " Camus, reverend sire." At this time 
 he was intended for the Church. " My father," he says, 
 " destined me while yet a little boy to the study of humane 
 letters ; which I seized with so much eagerness that from the 
 
INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 twelfth year of my age I scarcely ever went from my lessons 
 to bed before midnight." Of his character at this time he 
 wrote : "A certain reservedness of nature, an honest haughti- 
 ness and self-esteem kept me still above those low descents of 
 the mind." He was, indeed, not the typical but the ideal.. 
 ^Puritan^with whose strict morals and sturdy love of liberty 
 there mingled tjie^jiuman love of beauty and joy which ca_me 
 to_ him, as disciple of Spenser and Shakespeare, as the last of 
 the Elizabethans. He took the degree of M.A. in 1632, but 
 he could not bring himself to accept the Articles of the Church 
 or a ministry "bought and begun with servitude and forswear- 
 ing." He hated prelatry ; he feared Rome the "grim wolf 
 with privy paw " as the mass of his countrymen distrusted the 
 Papist Queen and the High Church principles of Laud. He 
 therefore betook himself to his father's place of retirement at 
 Horton, in Buckinghamshire, and gave himself up to the art of 
 poetry, the study of literature in all languages, and the practice 
 of music and mathematics. He had written poetry at ten years 
 old ; some of his noble translations from the Psalms were the 
 product of his school-days. At Cambridge, when he was 
 eighteen, he wrote a fine Latin elegy to his old tutor Thomas 
 Young, the beautiful lament for his niece, On the Death of a 
 Fair Infant, the college masque called At a Vacation Exercise, 
 the magnificent ode On the Morning of Christ's Nativity, and 
 perhaps two of the best known of his shorter poems V Allegro 
 and II Penseroso, though the latter were not published until 
 1648. 
 
 Comus. Milton was, as has been said, a keen lover of 
 music, and among his friends was the famous lutenist Henry 
 Lawes, then master of music to the Earl of Bridgewater, who 
 was Lord of Ludlow Castle and President of Wales. It was 
 at the request of Lawes that Milton wrote, in 1634, the 
 masque of Comus. About the nature of masques we have 
 already spoken in the previous volume. The masque is 
 essentially a personal form of literature. It is designed to 
 
 12 
 
4 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 nouour a great man, and therefore it must be laudatory, 
 hyperbolic, and artificial in character. Its chief element is 
 personification the allegorical presentment of virtues and 
 vices or of local and historical facts in dramatic form. Per- 
 sonification is always a somewhat frigid literary device ; nor 
 had Milton the least dramatic instinct. It is therefore in- 
 teresting to see how he approached his difficult task. When 
 we have read the poem we appreciate how skilfully the thing 
 is done. The praise is the praise of virtue rather than the 
 Earl of Bridgewater. Comus and his monster-headed rout 
 represent the vices and follies of the Court ; yet with its 
 beautiful lyric songs and exquisite natural imagery the result 
 is the masque transfigured into something really poetical. It 
 is for this reason because it shows the power of Milton as a 
 literary craftsman that Comus is given here in full, to the 
 exclusion of poems far better known. 
 
 His Foreign Travels. Three years later the death by 
 drowning on the Irish passage of a dear college friend, 
 Edward King, drew from Milton the exquisite lament of 
 Lycidas, the most beautiful elegy in our language. Here, 
 while he follows in a far nobler strain the style of Vergil's 
 tenth eclogue, he suddenly turns aside to lash the false 
 prelates of the English Church. This is the first symptom 
 of that bitter spirit of religious controversy which spoilt the 
 life and marred much of the work of Milton. In 1637 his 
 mother died, the household at Horton broke up, and Milton 
 went abroad to France and Italy. Like Chaucer, three 
 hundred years before, he profited much from his visit ; he 
 learnt to love the work of Tasso and Ariosto, as he was 
 already devoted to Dante and Petrarch. In Italy he met face 
 to face the aged martyr to scientific truth, Galileo^ Honoured 
 everywhere for his learning and his genim, the beauty and 
 the art of Italy sank deep into his soul. He purposed to 
 visit Greece, but news of the differences between King and 
 Parliament summoned him home to take his part in the struggle. 
 
j INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 His Polemical Prose. He was now (1639) thirty-one 
 years old and had spent much of his patrimony. He therefore 
 betook himself to London, and, first at a house in St. Bride's 
 Churchyard and then in Aldersgate, earned a livelihood by 
 taking private pupils. Now for twenty years his Muse was 
 silent but for a few rare blasts of his "trumpet," as 
 Wordsworth finely calls the Sonnets. He wrote indeed, but 
 he wrote in prose as champion of the " Independent " cause 
 against the Bishops. These controversial tracts and pamphlets, 
 marked at times by an almost incredible scurrility and bitter- 
 ness, we need not remember nor enumerate. His first wife, 
 Mary Powel, the daughter of a Cavalier squire, deserted him, 
 and Milton wrote three pamphlets in favour of divorce, which 
 greatly scandalized his Presbyterian friends and led to the 
 author's appearance before the House of Lords. As a matter 
 of fact, Mary came back to her husband soon afterwards, and 
 was given a warm welcome not only herself, but her family 
 also. She bore him three daughters and then died. In 1649 
 he was appointed Latin Secretary to the new Parliamentary 
 Council of State, and in that capacity replied with his 
 Iconoclastes to the famous defence of Charles I. called Eikon 
 
 Basilike. Again, when theL-greajL. JFrench scholar- SalmaBJus 
 
 was hired by the ftiri)iMi finy^iaf^ fn defend the executed 
 King, Milton attacked and destroyed his arguments in a 
 brilliant but violent pamphlet which secured European renown 
 for his scholarship, but cost the poet the sight of his eyes. 
 
 Observe that Milton knew what he was about. This great 
 poet gave to the cause of liberty, as he understood it, twenty 
 years of his prime and the most precious of all his powers, his 
 eyesight. This terrible infliction was borne by him with 
 Christian fortitude. What it meant to him we see in the 
 magnificent Sonnet on his Blindness, and the bitter cry of 
 Samson Agonistes. His daughters continued reluctantly to 
 write and read for him. 
 
 Paradiso Lost. He now began to work courageously upon 
 
6 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 three great undertakings a Latin Dictionary, a History of 
 England, and a great Epic. The first two were never com- 
 pleted ; with the third we now have to deal. Long ago the 
 germs of the idea had occurred to him. He had considered 
 and rejected the legends of King Arthur as a subject, and had 
 long intended to present the Fall and Redemption of Man in 
 the form of a sacred drama. But now that he had definitely 
 sided with the Puritan hatred of the theatre, and had, indeed, 
 reproached the dead King for his love of Shakespeare in his 
 IconoclasteSj the drama was impossible for him. The death of 
 Oliver Cromwell and the restoration of Charles II. in 1660 
 brought the champion of the Puritans into danger of his life. 
 Though Charles II. showed no desire for revenge and suffered 
 the poet to go free, he was forced to live for the remainder of 
 his life in poverty and obscurity, in a world where he had to 
 see his cherished principles one by one cast into oblivion and 
 derision. During these years his employment and his consola- 
 tion was the writing of Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. 
 The former was finished in 1665, at Chalfont, in Buckingham- 
 shire, whither the poet had fled for refuge from the great 
 plague. When it was finished he sold the copyright for 5 
 (to be paid for each edition), and received in all for the work 
 the sum of 23. 
 
 Paradise Lost is designed, as the poet tells us, " to justify the 
 ways of God to man." It is the history of the creation of 
 man, of his happy state in Eden, of his temptation and fall, 
 and finally of God's promises for his redemption. 
 
 But behind this human drama we are permitted to see the 
 war in heaven, the craft and rebellion of the evil spirits over- 
 come by the majesty and glory of the angels. It was, of 
 course, a subject that had long cried out for epic treatment, 
 and once adequately treated it was done for ever. There can 
 be no second epic upon that theme. "Thou hast said much 
 here of Paradise Lost, but what hast thou to say of Paradise 
 Found?" was the comment of young Elwood, his Quaker 
 
INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 secretary. Milton supplied the answer in Paradise Regained, 
 which he published in 1671. This poem is of equal majesty, 
 and its author is said to have preferred it ; but as it contains 
 more of the rhetoric and less of the musical descriptive poetry 
 of Paradise Lost, it is much less admired to-day. Samson 
 Agonistes, a sacred drama, a pure Greek tragedy in spirit, and 
 often in language, was published in the same year. We can 
 see the sympathy that led to the choice of its hero. Milton, 
 too, was a blind giant, a captive prey to the Philistines of his 
 age. 
 
 These were his last utterances. In July, 1674, he fell ill, 
 and in November, on a Sunday night, he passed quietly away, 
 at the age of sixty-eight. He was buried in the churchyard 
 of St. Giles, Cripplegate, where a statue has lately been 
 erected to his memory. The history of his reputation is 
 rather curious. Dryden, who was forty-three at Milton's 
 death, has written a well-known epitaph : 
 
 " Three poets, in three distant ages born, 
 Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. 
 The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, 
 The next in majesty, in both the last ; 
 The force of Nature could no further go ; 
 To make a third she joined the former two." 
 
 But in spite of this tribute, his memory was almost forgotten, 
 when Addison in the Spectator rediscovered the great work. 
 Since then the greatest of men have been inspired by his 
 work. Lord Macaulay knew the whole of Paradise Lost by 
 heart. 
 
 The Character of his Work. If we take a gifted nature 
 keenly alive to the sense of beauty, if we take the eye of an 
 artist and the ear of a musician, if to this we add the influence 
 of Spenser and the Elizabethan humanists, a strict and 
 scholarly training in the masterpieces of Greek and Latin 
 literature, especially in Vergil, and inform the whole with a 
 burning zeal for religion and a devotion to Puritan principles, 
 we shall have the ingredients, if we may use the term, which 
 
8 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 went to the making of John Milton. These influences alter- 
 nately predominate. L Allegro is as little Puritan as Paradise 
 Regained is Elizabethan. There is a poem to Charles Diodati, 
 in which he conveys in the Latin tongue a keen appreciation 
 of the beaux yeux of London misses. That a poet could have 
 written Iconoclastes seems as impossible as that a Cromwellian 
 pamphleteer could have written Arcades. Only the classical 
 spirit never deserts him. His illustrations, his rhetoric, his 
 dignity, his self-restraint, his very constructions and vocabulary, 
 are derived from the classics. One would say he thought in 
 Latin and Greek. Vergil is the only poet who has written a 
 great work with the same unbending gravity and unfailing 
 harmony of style. 
 
 His Blank Verse. Milton made of blank verse a magical 
 instrument. By the masterly arrangement of its pauses and 
 csesurae, by his consummate skill in what is called phrasing, 
 he has contrived in all the length of his poem to avoid 
 monotony. This is what he says by way of apology for his 
 choice of metre, in the preface to his edition of 1669 : 
 
 " The measure is English Heroic Verse without* Rime, as 
 that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin ; Rime being 
 no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poems or good 
 Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a 
 barbarous Age, to set off wretched Matter and lame Meeter ; 
 grac't indeed since by the use of some famous modern Poets, 
 carried away by Custom, but much to their own vexation, 
 hindrance, and constraint, to express many things otherwise, 
 and for the most part worse, then [than] else they would have 
 exprest them. Not without cause, therefore, some both 
 Italian and Spanish Poets of prime note, have rejected Rime 
 both in longer and shorter Works, as have also, long since, 
 our best English Tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious 
 eares, triveal and of no true musical delight ; which consists 
 only in apt Numbers, fit quantity of Syllables, and the sense 
 variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the 
 
INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned 
 Ancients both in Poetry and all good Oratory. This neglect 
 then of Rime, so little is to be taken for a defect, though it 
 may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it is rather to be 
 esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty 
 recovered to Heroic Poem from the troublesom and modern 
 bondage of Rimeing." 
 
 Blank verse had been introduced from Italy by the Earl of 
 Surrey about 1545 in his translations from Vergil. It had 
 been very much improved by Marlowe and Shakespeare, in 
 whose hands it had gained an almost excessive ease and 
 liberty, but as the vehicle of sustained epic majesty it is, as 
 Milton claims, his own discovery. 
 
 Milton's Prose. Of Milton's voluminous prose works only 
 two are now commonly read his Tractate on Education, in 
 which he sketches a course of reading which would stagger 
 even Macaulay's " schoolboy," and his Areopagitica, or defence 
 of the liberty of the Press. His prose is eloquent, majestic 
 and harmonious to the highest degree. He is a master of 
 striking metaphors : 
 
 " I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue." 
 
 " I endure not an instructor that comes to me under the worship 
 of an overseeing fist." 
 
 " Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and 
 kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam ; purging and 
 unsealing her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly 
 radiance ; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with 
 those also that love the twilight, flutter about amazed at what she 
 means." 
 
 The faults of his prose (and, indeed, sometimes of his poetry) 
 are the length of his involved periods and the weakness for 
 alien classical constructions or words^ as : 
 
 "If we have only escaped the ferula to come under the fescue of 
 an imprimatur." 
 
 " I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the ..." (a Greek 
 construction). 
 
10 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne. Milton stands so far in front of his 
 contemporaries that it is hard to know whom to place next to 
 him. SIR THOMAS BROWNE, in his scholarship and religious 
 bent, in the faults of his beautiful prose style (long sentences 
 and many Latinisms) seems to come nearest. He was born in 
 1605, and died in 1682. He was a Londoner by birth and an 
 Oxonian by education. Then he travelled much and studied 
 medicine at the famous Dutch University of Leyden. His life 
 was spent quietly in medical practice and scientific experiments 
 at Norwich. He was a Fellow of the newly -established Royal 
 Society, and received the honour of knighthood from that 
 patron of science Charles II. He is known to us by three 
 books, Religio Medici (which, one may observe, is the Latin for 
 " The Faith of a Doctor," and requires no Italian pronuncia- 
 tion) was, curiously enough, the work of his youth. Its charm 
 is the kind and tolerant spirit which it reveals, a spirit all the 
 more remarkable when we consider the atmosphere in which 
 it grew. His Hydriotaphia, or Urn-burial, a very short treatise 
 which includes discursive reflections on the vanity of life, is a 
 most notable example of learning delightfully displayed. It is 
 the best of all his work, and carries a fragrance of choice 
 phrases quite indescribable. Both Doctor Johnson and 
 Charles Lamb, men of very different types, were profoundly 
 influenced in mind, and even in style, by Sir Thomas Browne. 
 His third book, An Enquiry into Vulgar Errors, is a solemn 
 discussion of all sorts of quaint superstitions. Observe that 
 the quality we now have to praise is not genius but charm. 
 
 Izaak Walton. Here, too, it is not genius but charm, the 
 charm of a delightful character expressed with gentle egoism. 
 In his youth he was a comfortable Fleet Street ironmonger, 
 not debarred by his occupation either from intellectual pursuits 
 or distinguished society. Sir Henry Wotton, the ambassador, 
 the wit, the poet, the Provost of Eton, was linked to him 
 by the great brotherhood of rod and line. No prose 
 
INTRODUCTION 11 
 
 classic is more widely read or more tenderly loved than the 
 Compleat Angler, with its quaint sympathy, wide enough to 
 include the worm or the tortured frog on the hook and the 
 fish in the basket, its pleasant erudition, its delightful glimpses 
 of river-side scenery, and the quiet, contemplative enthusiasm 
 for his art. WALTON was born in 1593, and lived to the age 
 of ninety. In his later years he retired to the country to 
 practise his art and avoid the troubles of his times. He was 
 a sturdy Royalist at heart, and on one occasion carried a jewel 
 from the King in hiding to a friend. He wrote, with the 
 same ease and charm, the Lives of Church Dignitaries, among 
 them Dr. Donne and Richard Hooker, both conspicuous 
 figures in literature. There is no pleasanter companion than 
 Izaak Walton. 
 
 Robert Herrick. Charm, again, is eminently the feature 
 of Herrick's muse. HERRICK is the best of minor poets ; he 
 has attempted nothing great, but he has written much that 
 people know and love. There are two sides to the man and 
 his work. He lived from about 1591 to 1674, was educated 
 at Cambridge, and spent his youth in London, a companion of 
 Ben Jonson and the brilliant circle of the Mermaid Tavern. 
 He had a keen eye for beauty in flowers and women. No one 
 could turn a happier quatrain in honour of a lady. It is true 
 that the Hesperides (daughters of the West), as he called his 
 collection of sportive pieces, contains a good deal that should 
 not have been thought and a great deal more which need not 
 have been published, but there are gems which are common to 
 every anthology. It is the quaintness of his fancy and the 
 simplicity of his music which delights us. Consider the word 
 liquefaction, by which he describes the silken gown of his 
 
 Julia. 
 
 "UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES. 
 
 " When in silks my Julia goes, 
 Then, then (me thinks) how sweetly flows 
 That liquefaction of her clothes. 
 
12 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 " Next, when I cast mine eyes and see 
 That brave Vibration each way free ; 
 how that glittering taketh me !" 
 
 Slight, even unto tenuity, but eminently pretty. 
 
 By 1648, in which year he published both the Hesperides 
 and the Noble Numbers, he was the Rev. Robert Herrick, vicar 
 of a Devonshire parish, lamenting the lot which had cast him 
 amongst such savages. The Noble Numbers are a sort of 
 literary penance for the sportive freedom of the Hesperides. 
 There we see exactly the same curious fancy at play among 
 religious things. A fanciful critic might detect the flavour of 
 Devonshire cream in all Herrick's work. 
 
 Qeorge Wither. The quantity and slightness of Herrick's 
 verse suggests cheap paper and ink and a great facility in 
 rhyming. Rhyme had, indeed, become fatally easy by this 
 time, and GEORGE WITHER is a victim to facility. He was a 
 Hampshire man, educated at Oxford. He was sent to prison 
 for his political satires, Abuses Stript and Whipt, but wrote the 
 more during his imprisonment. He sold his patrimony to 
 provide troops for the Parliamentary cause. A good story 
 is told of his capture by the Royalists, when Sir John 
 Denham, the Royalist poet, interfered to save him, pleading 
 only "So long as he lives, I am not the worst poet in England." 
 The sacred poetry contained in his Hallelujah, the pleasant 
 description of Alresford Pool in his Philarete, and the inde- 
 pendent note of his song Shall I wasting in Despair, are the 
 most distinguished features of his work. 
 
 Andrew Marvell. MARVELL was, like Milton, a Puritan. 
 He was educated at Cambridge, and travelled much. Milton 
 perceived his abilities, and recommended him to the favour of 
 Cromwell, who secured for him the post of assistant secretary 
 to Milton as the Government's Foreign Secretary. After the 
 Restoration, as member for Hull, he showed considerable 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 courage in attacking the Government. His dates are 1620 
 to 1678. His poetry falls into two distinct categories. From 
 1650 to 1652 he was writing delightful lyrics the Garden 
 Poems profoundly influenced by the lighter style of Milton. 
 Later in life he gave up the love of his garden to satirize his 
 fellow-men, and became one of the forerunners of Dryden and 
 the satiric school. Indeed, he may be said to have initiated 
 the use of the heroic couplet which dominated English poetry 
 for more than a hundred years. In this second capacity 
 Andrew Mar veil belongs to our next epoch. But we must 
 not fail to notice here his great Horatian Ode upon the Return 
 of Cromwell from Ireland in 1650, in which his fine spirit of 
 upright independence is shown by his allusion to the martyred 
 King in the famous lines 
 
 11 From thence the Royal actor borne 
 The tragic scaffold might adorn ; 
 
 While round the armed bands 
 
 Did clap their bloody hands. 
 He nothing common did nor mean 
 Upon that memorable scene, 
 
 But with his keener eye 
 
 The axe's edge did try. 
 Nor called the gods with vulgar spite, 
 To vindicate his helpless right ; 
 
 But bowed his comely head 
 
 Down, as upon a bed." 
 
 Noble words, indeed, to appear in a panegyric by a Puritan 
 office-seeker to the Lord Protector ! 
 
 Religious Poets. For some obscure reason the religious 
 lyric appears commonly to attract the worst kind of poets. 
 Our hymn-books are degraded by a great deal of very poor 
 verse commonplace ideas, wanting in any real fervour and 
 expressed for the most part in vague, commonplace metaphors. 
 But the age of which we are speaking produced all the best 
 work of that kind which we possess ; *\or is the secret of this 
 far to seek. The religious poems of Crashaw, Herbert, 
 Vaughan, and Habington are simple Elizabethan love poems 
 
14 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 with a religious bent. They are really the outpourings of a 
 personal devotion. The very phrases of love poetry occur 
 "My Dear," "My Best Beloved," "Thy fair Eyes." Indeed, 
 but for the capital letters and the titles we might be excused 
 for forgetting that the motive is now religious. GEORGE 
 HERBERT, born 1593, was a brother of the famous Lord 
 Herbert of Cherbury, was educated at Cambridge, where he 
 became Public Orator, and spent his life peacefully at a 
 vicarage near Salisbury. His book of poems, The Temple, 
 was long and widely popular. HENRY VAUGHAN'S medita- 
 tions are deeper, and are combined with a love of Nature. 
 His Sacred Poems were published in 1651. The Divine Emblems 
 of FRANCIS QUARLES were long popular in the cottages of the 
 poor, but are now, I think, quite forgotten. RICHARD 
 CRASHAW, born about 1613, transcends them all in his 
 moments of passion, though his work is often commonplace 
 enough. Yet the finale of his Flaming Heart, the address to 
 St. Theresa, is a thing of astonishing beauty and deep inspira- 
 tion. He was deprived of his fellowship at Cambridge by 
 reason of his Popish leanings, and eventually became a Roman 
 Catholic, and died in 1650, in the monastery of Loretto. 
 ABRAHAM COWLEY and EDMUND WALLER might from their 
 dates find a place here, but as the forerunners of Dryden they 
 have been reserved for the next epoch. 
 
 Cavalier Poets. SIR JOHN SUCKLING was born in 1609, 
 his father being a member of the Court of King James I. In 
 his youth he served in the army of Gustavus Adolphus, and in 
 the early years of Charles I. was the principal wit of London. 
 He wrote several comedies and tragedies. He spent all his 
 fortune .12,000 in the King's cause, and in his chagrin 
 at the result retired to France, where he died tragically and 
 mysteriously in 1642. Wit is the prevailing characteristic of 
 his charming lyrics. 
 
 RICHARD LOVELACE is like him in style, character, and 
 
INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 career. He was born in 1618, and died about 1659, just too 
 early to see the Restoration, which he ardently desired. An 
 account of the imprisonments which he turned to so good 
 literary advantage will be found in the notes. His utterance 
 
 " I could not love thee, dear, so much 
 Loved I not honour more " 
 
 is perhaps the best-known thing in this book. These two are 
 sufficient to lend support to the popular ideal of the Cavalier 
 captain as a gay and accomplished gentleman. But the balance 
 of intellect, so far as literature is concerned, remains upon the 
 other side ; and, above all, there is nothing here to vitiate our 
 important thesis that it is great intellect, arid not great 
 passion, which produces great poetry. 
 
 Some Important Omissions. In addition to Milton's 
 prose, which has been omitted here merely because the claims 
 of his poetry are so great, the most important omissions are 
 three prose writers Robert Burton (1577-1640), Jeremy 
 Taylor (1613-1667), and Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) none 
 of whom have been considered suitable for selection. ROBERT 
 BURTON'S Anatomy of Melancholy is a work of colossal learn- 
 ing, brilliant wit, and much eloquence. So numerous and so 
 obscure, indeed, are the quotations and allusions that no one 
 of our generation is qualified to write notes to it. The student 
 may get an idea of his style by imagining that of Sir T. Browne 
 with a Latin quotation thrust in between every pair of 
 sentences. JEREMY TAYLOR, who suffered for his adherence 
 to the King's side, but received an Irish bishopric at the 
 Restoration, was a preacher and writer of singularly poetical 
 rhetoric. His Holy Living and Holy Dying are still widely 
 read and loved. THOMAS HOBBES was one of the greatest of 
 English philosophers. His style, clear but unadorned, is in 
 striking contrast to the long sentences and elaborate cadences 
 of contemporary prose. His great work is the Leviathan, 
 
16 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 which is a learned and ably -reasoned plea for the cause of 
 the King, his main contention, being that, as the King's power 
 is delegated to him by the people, and as the Sovereign is but 
 the executive of the nation's will, the Sovereign can do no 
 wrong in his official capacity. Of Fuller's Worthies of England 
 (1661) and Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest (1650), though both 
 have had enormous vogue, we have no space here to speak. 
 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress is the greatest prose masterpiece 
 of Stuart times, but as it was not published until 1678 it 
 belongs to the next epoch 
 
SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 (i.) EELIGIO MEDICI. 
 
 FOR my Religion, though there be several Circumstances 
 that might perswade the World I have none at all, (as 
 the general scandal of my Profession, the natural course 
 of my Studies, the indifferency of my Behaviour and Dis- 
 course in matters of Religion, neither violently Defend- 5 
 ing one, nor with that common ardour and contention 
 Opposing another ;) yet, in despight hereof, I dare with- 
 out usurpation assume the honourable Stile of a Christian. 
 Not that I meerely owe this Title to the Font, my Educa- 
 tion, or the clime wherein I was born, (as being bred up 10 
 either to confirm those Principles my Parents instilled 
 into my unwary Understanding, or by a general consent 
 proceed in the Religion of my Country ;) but having in 
 my riper years and confirmed Judgment seen and ex- 
 amined all, I find my self obliged by the Principles of 15 
 Grace, and the Law of mine own Reason, to embrace no 
 other Name but this. Neither doth herein my zeal so 
 far make me forget the general Charity I owe unto 
 Humanity, as rather to hate than pity Turks, Infidels, 
 and (what is worse,) Jews ; rather contenting my self to 20 
 enjoy that happy Stile, than maligning those who refuse 
 so glorious a Title. 
 
 But, because the Name of a Christian is become too 
 general to express our Faith, (there being a Geography 
 
 17 2 
 
18 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 of Religions as well as Lands, and every Clime dis- 25 
 tinguished not only by their Laws and Limits, but 
 circumscribed by their Doctrines and Rules of Faith ;) 
 to be particular, I am of that Reformed new-cast Religion, 
 wherein I dislike nothing but the Name ; of the same 
 belief our Saviour taught, the Apostles disseminated, the 30 
 Fathers authorized, and the Martyrs confirmed ; but by 
 the sinister ends of Princes, the ambition and avarice of 
 Prelates, and the fatal corruption of times, so decayed, 
 impaired, and fallen from its native Beauty, that it re- 
 quired the careful and charitable hands of these times to 35 
 restore it to its primitive Integrity. Now the accidental 
 occasion whereupon, the slender means whereby, the low 
 and abject condition of the Person by whom so good a 
 work was set on foot, which in our Adversaries beget 
 contempt and scorn, fills me with wonder, and is the 40 
 very same Objection the insolent Pagans first cast at 
 Christ and His Disciples. 
 
 Yet have I not so shaken hands with those desperate 
 Resolutions, (who had rather venture at large their de- 
 cayed bottom, than bring her in to be trimm'd in the 45 
 Dock ; who had rather promiscuously retain all, than 
 abridge any, and obstinately be what they are, than 
 what they have been,) as to stand in Diameter and 
 Swords point with them. We have reformed from them, 
 not against them ; for (omitting those Improperations 50 
 and Terms of Scurrility betwixt us, which only difference 
 our Affections, and n6t our Cause,) there is between us 
 one common Name and Appellation, one Faith and neces- 
 sary body of Principles common to us both; and therefore 
 I am not scrupulous to converse and live with them, to 55 
 enter their Churches in defect of ours, and either pray 
 with them or for them. I could never perceive any 
 rational Consequence from those many Texts which pro 
 hibit the Children of Iirael to pollute themselves with 
 
SIR THOMAS BROWNE 19 
 
 the Temples of the Heathens ; we being all Christians, 60 
 and not divided by such detested impieties as might 
 prophane our Prayers, or the place wherein we make 
 them ; or that a resolved Conscience may not adore her 
 Creator any where, especially in places devoted to His 
 Service ; where, if their Devotions offend Him, mine may 65 
 please Him; if theirs prophane it, mine may hallow it. 
 Holy -water and Crucifix (dangerous to the common 
 people,) deceive not my judgment, nor abuse my de- 
 votion at all I am, I confess, naturally inclined to that 
 which misguided zeal terms Superstition. My common 70 
 conversation I do acknowledge austere, my behaviour 
 full of rigour, sometimes not without morosity; yet at 
 my Devotion I love to use the civility of my knee, my 
 hat, and hand, with all those outward and sensible 
 motions which may express or promote my invisible 75 
 Devotion. I should violate my own arm rather than a 
 Church ; nor willingly deface the name of Saint or 
 Martyr. At the sight of a Cross or Crucifix I can 
 . dispense with my hat, but scarce with the thought or 
 memory of my Saviour. I cannot laugh at, but rather 80 
 pity, the fruitless journeys of Pilgrims, or contemn the 
 miserable condition of Fryars ; for, though misplaced in 
 Circumstances, there is something in it of Devotion. I 
 could never hear the Ave-Mary Bell without an eleva- 
 tion ; or think it a sufficient warrant, because they erred 85 
 in one circumstance, for me to err in all, that is, in silence 
 and dumb contempt. Whilst, therefore, they directed 
 their Devotions to Her, I offered mine to God, and 
 rectified the Errors of their Prayers by rightly ordering 
 mine own. At a solemn Procession I have wept 90 
 abundantly, while my consorts, blind with opposition 
 and prejudice, have fallen into an excess of scorn and 
 laughter. There are, questionless, both in Greek, Roman, 
 and African Churches, Solemnities and Ceremonies, where- 
 
 22 
 
20 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 of the wiser zeals do make a Christian use, and stand 95 
 condemned by us, not as evil in themselves, but as allure- 
 TD&KM and baits of superstition to those vulgar heads 
 that look asquint on the face of Truth, and those unstable 
 Judgments that cannot consist in the narrow point and 
 centre of Virtue without a reel or stagger to the 100 
 Circumference. 
 
 As there were many Reformers, so likewise many 
 Reformations ; every Country proceeding in a particular 
 way and method, according as their national Interest, 
 together with their Constitution and Clime, inclined 105 
 them ; some angrily, and with extremity ; others calmly, 
 and with mediocrity ; not rending, but easily dividing 
 the community, and leaving an honest possibility of a 
 reconciliation ; which though peaceable Spirits do desire, 
 and may conceive that revolution of time and the mercies no 
 of God may effect, yet that judgment that shall consider 
 the present antipathies between the two extreams, their 
 contrarieties in condition, affection, and opinion, may with 
 the same hopes expect an union in the Poles of Heaven. 
 
 But (to difference my self nearer, and draw into a 115 
 lesser Circle,) there is no Church whose every part so 
 squares unto my Conscience ; whose Articles, Constitu- 
 tions, and Customs seem so consonant unto reason, and 
 as it were framed to my particular Devotion, as this 
 whereof I hold my Belief, the Church of England; to 120 
 whose Faith I am a sworn Subject, and therefore in a 
 double Obligation subscribe unto her Articles, and 
 endeavour to observe her Constitutions. Whatsoever is 
 beyond, as points indifferent, I observe according to the 
 rules of my private reason, or the humour and fashion of 125 
 my Devotion ; neither believing this, because Luther 
 affirmed it, or disproving that, because Calvin hath dis- 
 avouched it. I condemn not all things in the Council of 
 Trent, nor approve all in the Synod of Dort. In brief, 
 
SIK THOMAS BROWNE 21 
 
 where the Scripture is silent, the Church is my Text; 130 
 where that speaks, 'tis but my Comment : where there is 
 a joynt silence of both, I borrow not the rules of my 
 Religion from Rome or Geneva, but the diotates of my 
 own reason. It is an unjust scandal of our adversaries, 
 and a gross errour in our selves, to compute the Nativity 135 
 of our Religion from Henry the Eighth, who, though he 
 rejected the Pope, refus'd not the faith of Rome, and 
 effected no more than what his own Predecessors desired 
 and assayed in Ages past, and was conceived the State of 
 Venice would have attempted in our days. It is as 140 
 uncharitable a point in v& to fall upon those popular 
 scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of the Bishop of Rome, 
 to whom, as a temporal Prince, we owe the duty of good 
 language. I confess there is cause of passion between us : 
 by his sentence I stand excommunicated ; Heretick is the 145 
 best language he affords me ; yet can no ear witness I 
 ever returned him the name of Antichrist, or Man of Sin. 
 It is the method of Charity to suffer without reaction : 
 those usual Satyrs and invectives of the Pulpit may per- 
 chance produce a good effect on the vulgar, whose ears 150 
 are opener to Rhetorick than Logick ; yet do they in no 
 wise confirm the faith of wiser Believers, who know that 
 a good cause needs not to be patron'd by passion, but can 
 sustain it self upon a temperate dispute. 
 
 I could never divide my self from any man upon 155 
 the difference of an opinion, or be angry with his judg- 
 ment for not agreeing with me in that from which perhaps 
 within a few days I should dissent myself. I have no 
 Genius to disputes in Religion, and have often thought it 
 wisdom to decline them, especially upon a disadvantage, 160 
 or when the cause of Truth might suffer in the weakness 
 of my patronage. Where we desire to be informed, 'tis 
 good to contest with men above our selves ; but to confirm 
 and establish our opinions, 'tis best to argue with judg- 
 
22 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 ments below our own, that the frequent spoils and 165 
 Victories over their reasons may settle in ourselves an 
 esteem and confirmed Opinion of our own. Every man 
 is not a proper Champion for Truth, nor fit to take up the 
 Gauntlet in the cause of Verity ; many, from the ignor- 
 ance of these Maximes, and an inconsiderate zeal unto 170 
 Truth, have too rashly charged the Troops of Error, and 
 remain as Trophies unto the Enemies of Truth. A man 
 may be in as just possession of Truth as of a City, and 
 yet be forced to surrender; 'tis therefore far better to 
 enjoy her with peace, than to hazzard her on a battle. If, 1 75 
 therefore, there rise any doubts in my way, I do forget 
 them, or at least defer them till my better settled judge- 
 ment and more manly reason be able to resolve them; 
 for I perceive every man's own reason is his best (Edipus, 
 and will, upon a reasonable truce, find a way to loose 180 
 those bonds wherewith the subtleties of error have 
 enchained our more flexible and tender judgements. In 
 Philosophy, where Truth seems double-fac'd, there is no 
 man more Paradoxical than my self : but in Divinity I 
 love to keep the Koad ; and, though not in an implicite, 185 
 yet an humble faith, follow the great wheel of the Church, 
 by which I move, not reserving any proper Poles or 
 motion from the Epicycle of my own brain. By this 
 means I leave no gap for Heresies, Schismes, or Errors, 
 of which at present I hope I shall not injure Truth to say 190 
 I have no taint or tincture. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 I hold there is a general beauty in the works of God, 
 and therefore no deformity in any kind or species of 
 creature whatsoever. I cannot tell by what Logick we 
 call a Toad, a Bear, or an Elephant ugly ; they being 1 95 
 created in those outward shapes and figures which best 
 express the actions of their inward forms, and having 
 past that general Visitation of God, Who s.aw that all 
 
SIR THOMAS BROWNE 25 
 
 that He had made was good, that is, conformable to His 
 Will, which abhors deformity, and is the rule of order 200 
 and beauty. There is no deformity but in Monstrosity ; 
 wherein, notwithstanding, there is a kind of Beauty; 
 Nature so ingeniously contriving the irregular parts, as 
 they become sometimes more remarkable than the 
 principal Fabrick. To speak yet more narrowly, there 205 
 was never any thing ugly or mis-shapen, but the Chaos ; 
 wherein, notwithstanding, (to speak strictly,) there was 
 no deformity, because no form ; nor was it yet impreg- 
 nant by the voice of God. Now Nature is not at variance 
 with Art, nor Art with Nature, they being both servants 210 
 of His Providence. Art is the perfection of Nature. 
 Were the World now as it was the sixth day, there were 
 yet a Chaos. Nature hath made one World, and Art 
 another. In brief, all things are artificial ; for Nature is 
 the Art of God. 215 
 
 This is the ordinary and open way of His Providence, 
 which Art and Industry have in a good part discovered ; 
 whose effects we may foretel without an Oracle : to fore- 
 shew these, is not Prophesie, btit Prognostication. There 
 is another way, full of Meanders and Labyrinths, whereof 220 
 the Devil and Spirits have no exact ephemerides; and 
 that is a more particular and obscure method of His 
 Providence, directing the operations of individuals and 
 single Essences : this we call Fortune, that serpentine and 
 crooked line, whereby He draws those actions His Wisdom 223 
 intends, in a more unknown and secret way. This 
 cryptick and involved method of His Providence have 
 I ever admired ; nor can I relate the History of my life, 
 the occurrences of my days, the escapes of dangers, and 
 hits of chance, with a Bezo las Manos to Fortune, or a 230 
 bare Gramercy to my good Stars. Abraham might have 
 thought the Ram in the thicket came thither by accident ; 
 reason would have said that meer cbance QOO- 
 
24 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 veyed Moses in the Ark to the sight of Pharaoh's 
 Daughter : what Labyrinth is there in the story of 235 
 Joseph, able to convert a Stoick ! Surely there are in 
 every man's Life certain rubs, doublings, and wrenches, 
 which pass a while under the effects of chance, but at the 
 last, well examined, prove the meer hand of God. Twas 
 not dumb chance, that, to discover the Fougade or 240 
 Powder-plot, contrived a miscarriage in the Letter. I 
 like the Victory of '88 the better for that one occurrence, 
 which our enemies imputed to our dishonour and the 
 partiality of Fortune, to wit, the tempests and contrariety 
 of Winds. King Philip did not detract from the Nation, 245 
 when he said, he sent his Armado to fight with men, and not to 
 combate with the Winds. Where there is a manifest dis- 
 proportion between the powers and forces of two several 
 agents, upon a Maxim e of reason we may promise the 
 Victory to the Superiour ; but when unexpected accidents 250 
 slip in, and unthought of occurrences intervene, these 
 must proceed from a power that owes no obedience to 
 those Axioms ; where, as in the writing upon the wall, 
 we may behold the hand, but see not the spring that 
 moves it. The success of that petty Province of Holland 255 
 (of which the Grand Seignour proudly said, if they should 
 trouble him as they did the Spaniard, he would send his men 
 with shovels and pick-axes, and throw it into the Sea,) I can- 
 not altogether ascribe to the ingenuity and industry of 
 the people, but the mercy of God, that hath disposed 260 
 them to such a thriving Genius ; and to the will of His 
 Providence, that disposeth her favour to each Country in 
 their preordinate season. All cannot be happy at once ; 
 for, because the glory of one State depends upon the 
 ruine of another, there is a revolution and vicissitude of 265 
 their greatness, and must obey the swing of that wheel, 
 not moved by Intelligences, but by the hand of God, 
 whereby all Estates arise to their Zenith and Vertical 
 
SIR THOMAS BROWNE 25 
 
 points according to their predestinated periods. For the 
 lives, not only of men, but of Commonwealths, and the 270 
 whole World, run not upon a Helix that still enlargeth, 
 but on a Circle, where, arriving to their Meridian, they 
 decline in obscurity, and fall under the Horizon again. 
 
 ***** 
 Now for that other Virtue of Charity, without which 
 Faith is a meer notion, and of no existence, I have ever 275 
 endeavoured to nourish the merciful disposition and 
 humane inclination I borrowed from my Parents, and 
 regulate it to the written and prescribed Laws of Charity. 
 And if I hold the true Anatomy of my self, I am 
 delineated and naturally framed to such a piece of virtue; 280 
 for I am of a constitution so general, that it consorts and 
 sympathiseth with all things. I have no Antipathy, or 
 rather Idiosyncrasie, in dyet, humour, air, any thing. I 
 wonder not at the French, for their dishes of Frogs, 
 Snails and Toadstools, nor at the Jews for Locusts and 285 
 Grasshoppers ; but being amongst them, make them my 
 common Viands, and I find they agree with my Stomach 
 as well as theirs. I could digest a Salad gathered in a 
 Church-yard, as well as in a Garden. I cannot start at 
 the presence of a Serpent, Scorpion, Lizard, or Sala- 290 
 mander : at the sight of a Toad or Viper, I find in me no 
 desire to take up a stone to destroy them. I feel not in 
 my self those common Antipathies that I can discover in 
 others : those National repugnances do not touch me, nor 
 do I behold with prejudice the French, Italian, Spaniard, 295 
 or Dutch : but where I find their actions in balance with 
 my Countrymen's, I honour, love, and embrace them in 
 the same degree. I was born in the eighth Climate, but 
 seem for to be framed and constellated unto all. I am 
 no Plant that will not prosper out of a Garden. All 300 
 places, all airs, make unto me one Countrey; I am in 
 England every where, and under any Meridian. I have 
 
6 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 been ship wrackt, yet am not enemy with the Sea or 
 Winds ; I can study, play, or sleep in a Tempest. In 
 brief, I am averse from nothing : my Conscience would 305 
 give me the lye if I should say I absolutely detest or hate 
 any essence but the Devil ; or so at least abhor any thing, 
 but that we might come to composition. If there be any 
 among those common objects of hatred I do contemn and 
 laugh at, it is that great enemy of Reason, Virtue and 310 
 Religion, the Multitude : that numerous piece of mon- 
 strosity, which, taken asunder, seem men, and the reason- 
 able creatures of God ; but, confused together, make but 
 one great beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious than 
 Hydra. It is no breach of Charity to call these FooU ; it 315 
 is the style all holy Writers have afforded them, set 
 down by Solomon in Canonical Scripture, and a point of 
 our Faith to believe so. Neither in the name of Multitude 
 do I onely include the base and minor sort of people ; 
 there is a rabble even amongst the Gentry, a sort of 320 
 Plebeian heads, whose fancy moves with the same wheel 
 as these ; men in the same Level with Mechanick, though 
 their fortunes do somewhat guild their infirmities, and 
 their purses compound for their follies. But as, in cast- 
 ing account, three or four men together come short in 325 
 account of one man placed by himself below them; so 
 neither are a troop of these ignorant Doradoes of that true 
 esteem and value, as many a forlorn person, whose con- 
 dition doth place him below their feet. Let us speak 
 like Politicians : there is a Nobility without Heraldry, a 330 
 natural dignity, whereby one man is ranked with another, 
 another filed before him* according to the quality of his 
 Desert and preheminence of his good parts. Though the 
 corruption of these times and the byas of present practice 
 wheel another way, thus it was in the first and primitive 335 
 Commonwealths, and is yet in the integrity and Cradle 
 gf well-order'd Polities, till corruption getteth ground; 
 
SIR THOMAS BROWNE 27 
 
 ruder desires labouring after that which wiser considera- 
 tions contemn, every one having a liberty to amass and 
 heap up riches, and they a licence or faculty to do or 340 
 purchase any thing. 
 
 (ii.) URN-BURIAL. 
 
 To be nameless in worthy deeds, exceeds an infamous 
 history, The Canaanitish woman lives more happily 
 without a name, than Herodias with one. And who had 
 not rather been the good thief than Pilate ? 
 
 But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her 5 
 poppy, and deals with the memory of men without dis- 
 tinction to merit or perpetuity. Who can but pity the 
 founder of the pyramids? Herostratus lives that burnt 
 the temple of Diana, he is almost lost that built it. 
 Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse, con- 10 
 founded that of himself. In vain we compute our 
 felicities by the advantage of our good names, since bad 
 have equal durations, and Thersites is like to live as long 
 as Agamemnon. Who knows whether the best of men 
 be known, or whether there be not more remarkable ^5 
 persons forgot, than any that stand remembered in the 
 known account of time 1 Without the favour of the ever- 
 lasting register, the first man had been as unknown as 
 the last, and Methuselah's long life had been his only 
 chronicle. 20 
 
 Oblivion is not to be hired. The greater part must be 
 content to be as though they had not been, to be found 
 in the register of God, not in the record of man. Twenty- 
 seven names make up the first story, and the recorded 
 names ever since contain not one living century. The 25 
 number of the dead long exceedeth all that shall live. 
 The night of time far surpasseth the day, and who knows 
 when was the equinox 1 Every hour adds unto that 
 
28 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 current arithmetick, which scarce stands one moment. 
 And since death must be the Lucina of life, and even 30 
 Pagans could doubt, whether thus to live were to die; 
 since our longest sun sets at right descensions, and 
 makes but winter arches, and therefore it cannot be long 
 before we lie down in darkness, and have our light in 
 ashes; since the brother of death daily haunts us with 35 
 dying mementos, and time that grows old in itself, bids 
 us hope no longer duration ; diuturnity is a dream and 
 folly of expectation. 
 
 Darkness and light divide the course of time, and 
 oblivion shares with memory a great part even of our 40 
 living beings ; we slightly remember our felicities, and 
 the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart 
 upon us. Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows 
 destroy us or themselves. To weep into stones are fables. 
 Afflictions induce callosities \ miseries are slippery, or fall 45 
 like snow upon us, which notwithstanding is no unhappy 
 stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to come, and forgetful 
 of evils past, is a merciful provision in nature, whereby 
 we digest the mixture of our few and evil days, and, our 
 delivered senses not relapsing into cutting remembrances, 50 
 our sorrows are not kept raw by the edge of repetitions. 
 A great part of antiquity contented their hopes of sub- 
 sistency with a transmigration of their souls, a good 
 way to continue their memories, while having the ad- 
 vantage of plural successions, they could not but act 55 
 something remarkable in such variety of beings, and 
 enjoying the fame of their passed selves, make accumula- 
 tion of glory unto their last durations. Others, rather 
 than be lost in the uncomfortable night of nothing, were 
 content to recede into the common being, and make one 60 
 particle of the public soul of all things, which was no 
 more than to return into their unknown and divine 
 original again. Egyptian ingenuity was more unsatisfied, 
 
GEORGE HERBERT 29 
 
 contriving their bodies in sweet consistencies, to attend 
 the return of their souls. But all was vanity, feeding the 65 
 wind, and folly. The Egyptian mummies, which Cam- 
 by ses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth. 
 Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim cures wounds, 
 and Pharaoh is sold for balsams. 
 
 II. 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 THE PULLEY. 
 
 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 dispersed lie, 
 
 Contract into a spanne. 5 
 
 So strength first made a way ; 
 
 Then beautie flow'd, then wisdom, honoure, pleasure : 
 When almost all was out, God made a staye, 
 Perceiving that alone of all his treasure 
 
 Rest at the bottom laye. 10 
 
 For if I should, said he, 
 Bestowe 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. 15 
 
 Yet let him keepe the rest, 
 But keepe them with repining restlessness, 
 Let him be rich and wearie, that at least 
 If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
 
 May toss him to my breast. 20 
 
30 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 III. 
 MILTON. 
 
 COMUS. 
 
 A MASK PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE, 1634. 
 
 The First Scene discovers a wild wood. The attendant Spirit 
 descends or enters. 
 
 BEFORE the starry threshold of Jows Court 
 My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
 Of bright aereal Spirits live inspher'd 
 In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 
 Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, 5 
 
 Which men call earth, and with low-thoughted care 
 Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here, 
 Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being 
 Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives 
 After this mortal change, to her true servants 10 
 
 Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. 
 Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 
 To lay their just hands on that Golden Key 
 That opes the Palace of Eternity : 
 
 To such my errand is, and but for such, 1 5 
 
 I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds, 
 With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 
 But to my task. Neptune besides the sway 
 Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream, 
 Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove 20 
 
 Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles, 
 That like to rich and various gems inlay 
 The unadorned bosom of the deep, 
 

 MILTON 31 
 
 Which he to grace his tributary gods 
 
 By course commits to several government, 25 
 
 And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns, 
 
 And wield their little tridents : but this isle, 
 
 The greatest and the best of all the main 
 
 He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities, 
 
 And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun 30 
 
 A noble Peer of mickle trust and power 
 
 Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide 
 
 An old and haughty nation proud in arms : 
 
 Where his fair off-spring nurs't in princely lore, 
 
 Are coming to attend their father's state 35 
 
 And new-entrusted Sceptre, but their way 
 
 Lies through the perplex't paths of this drear wood, 
 
 The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
 
 Threats the forlorn and wand'ring passenger. 
 
 And here their tender age might suffer peril, 40 
 
 But that by quick command from Sovereign Jove 
 
 I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard ; 
 
 And listen why, for I will tell ye now 
 
 What never yet was heard in tale or song 
 
 From old or modern bard in hall or bow'r. 45 
 
 Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
 Crush't the sweet poison of mis-used wine 
 After the Tuscan Mariners transform'd 
 Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
 On Circe's Island fell (who knows not Circe 50 
 
 The daughter of the Sun ? Whose charmed cup 
 Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape, 
 And downward fell into a groveling swine) 
 This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks, 
 With ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth, 55 
 
 Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son 
 Much like his father, but his mother more, 
 Whom therefore she brought up and Comus nam'd, 
 
32 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age, 
 
 Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 
 
 At last betakes him to this ominous wood, 
 
 And in thick shelter of black shades embowr'd, 
 
 Excels his mother at her mighty art, 
 
 OfFring to every weary traveller, 
 
 His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 
 
 To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste 
 
 (For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst) 
 
 Soon as the potion works, their human countenance, 
 
 Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd 
 
 Into some brutish form of wolf, or bear, 
 
 Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, 
 
 All other parts remaining as they were, 
 
 And they, so perfect is their misery, 
 
 Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, 
 
 But boast themselves more comely than before 
 
 And all their friends, and native home forget 
 
 To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 
 
 Therefore when any favoured of high Jove 
 
 Chances to pass through this adventurous glade, 
 
 Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star, 
 
 I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy, 
 
 As now I do : But first I must put off 
 
 These my sky robes spun out of Iris* woof, 
 
 And take the weeds and likeness of a swain, 
 
 That to the service of this house belongs, 
 
 Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, 
 
 Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, 
 
 And hush the waving woods, nor of less faith, 
 
 And in this office of his mountain watch, 
 
 Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 
 
 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 
 
 Of hateful steps . I must be viewless now, 
 
MILTON 33 
 
 . 
 
 Comus enters with a Charming Rod in one hand, his Glass in the 
 other, with him a rout of Monsters, headed like sundry sorts 
 of wild Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their 
 Apparel glistring, they come in making a riotous and unruly 
 noise, with Torches in their hands. 
 Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold, 
 
 Now the top of Heav'n doth hold, 
 
 And the gilded car of Day, 95 
 
 His glowing axle doth allay 
 
 In the steep Atlantic stream, 
 
 And the slope Sun his upward beam 
 
 Shoots against the dusky pole, 
 
 Pacing toward the other goal 100 
 
 Of his chamber in the East. 
 
 Meanwhile welcome Joy and Feast, 
 
 Midnight shout and revelry, 
 
 Tipsy dance and Jollity. 
 
 Braid your locks with rosy twine 105 
 
 Dropping odours, dropping wine. 
 
 Eigour now is gone to bed, 
 
 And Advice with scrupulous head, 
 
 Strict Age and sour Severity, 
 
 With their grave saws in slumber lie. no 
 
 We that are of purer fire 
 
 Imitate the Starry Quire, 
 
 Who in their nightly watchful spheres, 
 
 Lead in swift round the Months and Years. 
 
 The Sounds and Seas with all their finny drove 115 
 
 Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move 
 
 And on the tawny sands and shelves, 
 
 Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves ; 
 
 By dimpled brook and fountain brim, 
 
 The Wood-Nymphs deckt with daisies trim, 120 
 
 Their merry wakes and pastimes keep : 
 
 What hath night to do with sleep 1 
 
 3 
 
34 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Night hath better sweets to prove, 
 
 Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love. 
 
 Come let us our rights begin, 125 
 
 ; Tis only day-light that makes sin 
 
 Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 
 
 Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport 
 
 Dark-veild Coiytto, t' whom the secret flame 
 
 Of mid-night torches burns ; mysterious Dame 130 
 
 That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb 
 
 Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, 
 
 And makes one blot of all the air, 
 
 Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, 
 
 Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat?, and befriend 135 
 
 Us thy vow'd Priests, till utmost end 
 
 Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, 
 
 Ere the blabbing eastern scout, 
 
 The nice Morn, on th' Indian steep 
 
 From her cabin'd loop-hole peep, 140 
 
 And to the tell-tale Sun descry 
 
 Our conceal'd solemnity. 
 
 Come, knit hands, and beat the ground, 
 
 In a light fantastic round. 
 
 [The Measure. 
 
 Break off, break off, I feel the different pace, 145 
 
 Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
 
 Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees, 
 
 Our number may affright : some virgin sure 
 
 (For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
 
 Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150 
 
 And to my wily trains, I shall ere long 
 
 Be well stock't with as fair a herd as graz'd 
 
 About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 
 
 My dazzling spells into the spongy air, 
 
 Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, 155 
 
 And give it false presentments, lest the place 
 
MILTON 35 
 
 And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 
 
 And put the damsel to suspicious flight, 
 
 Which must not be, for that's against my course ; 
 
 I under fair pretence of friendly ends, 160 
 
 And well plac't words of glozing courtesy 
 
 Baited with reasons not unplausible 
 
 Wind me into the easy -hearted man, 
 
 And hug him into snares. When once her eye 
 
 Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 1 65 
 
 I shall appear some harmless villager 
 
 Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear, 
 
 But here she comes, I fairly step aside, 
 
 And hearken, if I may, her business here. 
 
 The LADY enters. 
 
 Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170 
 My best guide now Methought it was the sound 
 Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment, 
 Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
 Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 
 When for their teeming flocks, and granges full 175 
 
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, 
 And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth 
 To meet the rudeness and swill'd insolence 
 Of such late wassailers ; yet O where else 
 Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180 
 
 In the blind mazes of this tangl'd wood ? 
 My brothers when they saw me wearied out 
 With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
 Under the spreading favour of these pines, 
 Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side 185 
 
 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
 As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
 They left me then, when the gray-hooded Ev ? n 
 Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed 
 
 32 
 
36 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Rose from the hindmost wheels of Plwebus' wain. 190 
 
 But where they are, and why they came not back, 
 
 Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'Tis likeliest 
 
 They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far, 
 
 And envious darkness, ere they could return, 
 
 Had stole them from me. Else O thievish Night 195 
 
 Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 
 
 In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, 
 
 That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their lamps 
 
 With everlasting oil, to give due light 
 
 To the misled and lonely Traveller 1 200 
 
 This is the place, as well as I may guess, 
 
 Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 
 
 Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear, 
 
 Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 
 
 What might this be ? A thousand fantasies 205 
 
 Begin to throng into my memory 
 
 Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, 
 
 And airy tongues, that syllable men's names 
 
 On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. 
 
 These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210 
 
 The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
 
 By a strong siding champion Conscience. 
 
 welcome pure ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope, 
 Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, 
 
 And thou unblemish't form of Chastity, 215 
 
 1 see ye visibly, and now believe 
 
 That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill 
 Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, 
 Would send a glist'ring Guardian if need were 
 
 To keep my life and honour unassail'd. 220 
 
 Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night 1 
 I did not err, there does a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining; on the night, 
 
MILTON 37 
 
 And casts a gleam over this tufted grove. 225 
 
 I cannot hallo to my brothers, but 
 
 Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 
 
 Til venture, for my new enliv'nd spirits 
 
 Prompt me ; and they perhaps are not far off. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv'st unseen 230 
 
 Within thy airy shell 
 By slow Meander's margent grew, 
 4nd in the violet-embroider 'd vale 
 
 Where the love-lorn Nightingale 
 
 Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well : 235 
 
 Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 
 
 That likest thy Narcissus are ? 
 
 if thou have 
 Hid them in some fl&w'ry cave, 
 
 Tell me but where 240 
 
 Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere, 
 So matfst thou be translated to the skies, 
 And give resounding grace to all Heav'n's harmonies. 
 
 Com. Can any mortal mixture of Earth's mould 
 Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? 245 
 
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
 To testify his hidd'n residence ; 
 How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
 Of silence, through the empty- vaulted night 250 
 
 At every fall smoothing the raven down 
 Of darkness till it smiPd : I have oft heard 
 My mother Circe with the Sirens three, 
 Amid'st the flow'ry-kirtl'd Naiades 
 
 Culling their Potent herbs, and bale ? ul drugs, 255 
 
 Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, 
 
38 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 And lap it in Elysium, Scylla wept, 
 
 And chid her barking waves into attention,. 
 
 And fell Charybdis murmur J d soft applause : 
 
 Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, 260 
 
 And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself, 
 
 But such a sacred, and home-felt delight, 
 
 Such sober certainty of waking bliss 
 
 I never heard till now. I'll speak to her 
 
 And she shall be my queen. Hail foreign wonder 265 
 
 Whom certain these rough shades did never breed 
 
 Unless the Goddess that in rural shrine 
 
 Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest song 
 
 Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 
 
 To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 270 
 
 La. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
 That is addrest to unattending ears, 
 Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 
 How to regain my sever'd company 
 
 CompelPd me to awake the courteous Echo 275 
 
 To give me answer from her mossy couch. 
 
 Co. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus ? 
 
 La. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. 
 
 Co. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides 1 
 
 La. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280 
 
 Co. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why ? 
 
 La. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. 
 
 Co. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady ? 
 
 La. They were but twain, and purposed quick return. 
 
 Co. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. 285 
 
 La. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 
 
 Co. Imports their loss, beside the present need ? 
 
 La. No less than if I should my brothers lose. 
 
 Co. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom ? 
 
 La. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 290 
 
 Co. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox 
 
MILTON 39 
 
 In his loose traces from the furrow came, 
 
 And the swink't hedger at his supper sate ; 
 
 I saw them under a green mantling vine 
 
 That crawls along the side of yon small hill, 295 
 
 Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; 
 
 Their port was more than human, as they stood ; 
 
 I took it for a faery vision 
 
 Of some gay creatures of the element 
 
 That in the colours of the rainbow live 300 
 
 And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck, 
 
 And as I past, I worshipt : if those you seek, 
 
 It were a journey like the path to Heav'n, 
 
 To help you find them. 
 
 La. Gentle villager 
 
 What readiest way would bring me to that place ? 305 
 
 Co. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 
 
 La. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose, 
 In such a scant allowance of star-light, 
 Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
 Without the sure guess of well-practis'd feet. 310 
 
 Co. I know each lane, and every alley green 
 Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood, 
 And every bosky bourn from side to side 
 My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood, 
 And if your stray attendance be yet lodg'd, 3 1 5 
 
 Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 
 Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
 From her thatch't pallet rouse, if otherwise 
 I can conduct you, Lady, to a low 
 
 But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320 
 
 Till further quest. 
 
 La. Shepherd I take thy word, 
 
 And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy, 
 Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds 
 With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls 
 
40 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 And courts of princes, where it first was nam'd, 325 
 
 And yet is most pretended. In a place 
 
 Less warranted than this, or less secure 
 
 I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
 
 Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
 
 To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd lead on. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter the two Brothers. 
 
 Elder Brother. Unmuffle, ye faint stars, and thou fair Moon 
 That wontst to love the travellers, benison, 332 
 
 Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, 
 And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
 In double night of darkness, and of shades ; 
 Or if your influence be quite damm'd up 336 
 
 With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, 
 Though a rush candle from the wicker hole 
 Of some clay habitation, visit us 
 
 With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light, 340 
 
 And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, 
 Or Tyrian Cynosure. 
 
 Second Brother. Or if our eyes 
 Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear 
 The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes, 
 Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, 345 
 
 Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
 Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 
 Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering 
 In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
 But O that hapless virgin, our lost sister, 350 
 
 Where may she wander now, whether betake her 
 From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles ? 
 Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now 
 Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
 Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears. 355 
 
 What if in wild amazement, and affright. 
 
MILTON 41 
 
 Or while we speak within the direful grasp 
 Of savage hunger, or of savage heat ? 
 
 Eld. Bro. Peace, brother, be not over- exquisite 
 To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 360 
 
 For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 
 What need a man forestall his date of grief, 
 And run to meet what he would most avoid ? 
 Or if they be but false alarms of fear, 
 
 How bitter is such self-delusion ? 365 
 
 I do not think my sister so to seek, 
 Or so unprincipl'd in virtue's book, 
 And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 
 As that the single want of light and noise 
 (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 370 
 
 Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, 
 And put them into mis-becoming plight. 
 Virtue could see to do what Virtue would 
 By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 
 Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 375 
 
 Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude, 
 Where with her best nurse Contemplation 
 She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings 
 That in the various bustle of resort 
 
 Were all to-ruffTd, and sometimes impaired. 380 
 
 He that has light within his own clear breast 
 May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day, 
 But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, 
 Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; 
 Himself is his own dungeon. 
 
 2. Bro. 'Tis most true 385 
 
 That musing meditation most affects 
 The pensive secrecy of desert cell, 
 Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, 
 And sits as safe as in a senate house, 
 For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390 
 
42 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 
 
 Or do his gray hairs any violence 1 
 
 But beauty like the fair Hesperian tree 
 
 Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 
 
 Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, 395 
 
 To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit 
 
 From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 
 
 You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps 
 
 Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, 
 
 And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400 
 
 Danger will wink on Opportunity, 
 
 And let a single helpless maiden pass 
 
 Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste. 
 
 Of night, or loneliness it recks me not, 
 
 I fear the dread events that dog them both, 405 
 
 Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 
 
 Of our unowned sister. 
 
 Eld. Bro. I do not, brother, 
 
 Infer, as if I thought my sister's state 
 Secure without all doubt, or controversy : 
 Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear 410 
 
 Does arbitrate th > event, my nature is 
 That I incline to hope, rather than fear, 
 And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
 My sister is not so defenceless left 
 
 As you imagine, she has a hidden strength 415 
 
 Which you remember not. 
 
 2. Bro. What hidden strength, 
 
 Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that ? 
 
 Eld. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength 
 Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own : 
 'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity : 420 
 
 She that has that, is clad in complete steel, 
 And like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen 
 May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, 
 
MILTON 43 
 
 Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds, 
 
 Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity, 425 
 
 No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer 
 
 Will dare to soil her virgin purity. 
 
 Yea there, where very desolation dwells 
 
 By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades, 
 
 She may pass on with unblench't majesty, 430 
 
 Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 
 
 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 cur feu time, 435 
 
 No goblin, or swart faery of the mine, 
 
 Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 
 
 Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 
 
 Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 
 
 To testify the arms of Chastity ? 440 
 
 Hence had 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 445 
 
 Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' woods. 
 
 What was that 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, 450 
 
 And noble grace that dash't brute violence 
 
 With sudden adoration, and blank awe. 
 
 So dear to Heav'n is saintly Chastity, 
 
 That when a soul is found sincerely so, 
 
 A thousand liveried Angels lackey her, 455 
 
 Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 
 
 And in clear dream and solemn vision 
 
 Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 
 
44 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants 
 
 Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape, 460 
 
 The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
 
 And turns 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, 465 
 
 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 470 
 
 Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres 
 
 Lingering, and sitting by a new-made grave, 
 
 As loth to leave the body that it lov'd, 
 
 And link't itself by carnal sensuality 
 
 To a degenerate and degraded state. 475 
 
 2. Era. 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. 
 
 Eld. Bro. List, list, I hear 480 
 
 Some far-off hallo break the silent air. 
 
 2. Bro. Methought so too ; what should it be ] 
 
 Eld. Bro. For certain 
 
 Either some one like us night founder'd here, 
 Or else some neighbour wood-man, or at worst, 
 Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 485 
 
 2. Bro. Heav'n keep my sister ! Again, again, and near ! 
 Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 
 
 Eld. Bro. I'll hallo. 
 
 If he be friendly, he comes well, if not, 
 Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us. 
 
MILTON 45 
 
 Enter the attendant Spirit habited like a shepherd. 
 That hallo I should know, what are you ? speak ; 490 
 
 Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. 
 
 Spir. What voice is that, my young Lord ? speak again. 
 
 2. Bro. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd sure. 
 
 Eld. Bro. Thyrsis ? Whose artful strains have oft delay'd 
 The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 495 
 
 And sweeten'd every musk-rose of the dale, 
 How cam'st thou here, good swain 1 hath any ram 
 Slip't from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, 
 Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ? 
 How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook ? 500 
 
 Spir. my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy, 
 I came not here on such a trivial toy 
 As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
 Of pilfering wolf, not all the fleecy wealth 
 That doth enrich these downs, is worth a thought 505 
 
 To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
 But my virgin Lady, where is she ? 
 How chance she is not in your company 1 
 
 Eld. Bro. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame, 
 Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510 
 
 Spir. Ay me unhappy ! then my fears are true. 
 
 Eld. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis ? Pry thee briefly shew. 
 
 Spir. I'll tell ye, 'tis not vain or fabulous, 
 (Though so esteem 'd by shallow ignorance) 
 What the sage Poets taught by th' heav'nly Muse, 515 
 
 Storied of old in high immortal verse 
 Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles, 
 And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to hell, 
 For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 
 
 Within the navel of this hideous wood, 520 
 
 Immur'd in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells 
 Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, 
 Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries, 
 
46 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 And here to -every thirsty wanderer, 
 
 By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 525 
 
 With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison 
 
 The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, 
 
 And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
 
 Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
 
 Character'd in the face ; this have I learnt 530 
 
 Tending my flocks hard by i' th' hilly crofts, 
 
 That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night 
 
 He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl 
 
 Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey, 
 
 Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 535 
 
 In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 
 
 Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells 
 
 To inveigle and invite th' unwary sense 
 
 Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
 
 This evening late by then the chewing flocks 540 
 
 Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 
 
 Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 
 
 I sate me down to watch upon a bank 
 
 With ivy canopied, and interwove 
 
 With flaunting honeysuckle, and began 545 
 
 Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy 
 
 To meditate my rural minstrelsy, 
 
 Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close 
 
 The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, 
 
 And filPd the air with barbarous dissonance, 550 
 
 At which I ceas't, and listen'd them a while, 
 
 Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 
 
 Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds 
 
 That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep. 
 
 At last a soft and solemn breathing sound 555 
 
 Rose like a stream of rich aistill'd perfumes, 
 
 And stole upon the air, that even Silence 
 
 Was took ere she was ware, and wish't she might 
 
MILTON 47 
 
 Deny her nature, and be never more, 
 
 Still to be so displac't. I was all ear, 560 
 
 And took in strains that might create a soul 
 
 Under the ribs of Death, but ere long 
 
 Too well I did perceive it was the voice 
 
 Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear sister. 
 
 Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear, 565 
 
 And, O poor hapless Nightingale, thought I, 
 
 How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare ! 
 
 Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste 
 
 Through paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day, 
 
 Till guided by mine ear I found the place 570 
 
 Where that damn'd wizard hid in sly disguise 
 
 (For so by certain signs I knew) had met 
 
 Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 
 
 The aidless innocent Lady his wish't prey, 
 
 Who gently ask't if he had seen such two, 575 
 
 Supposing him some neighbour villager ; 
 
 Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guesst 
 
 Ye were the two she meant, with that I sprung 
 
 Into swift flight, till I had found you here, 
 
 But further know I not. 
 
 2. Bro. O night and shades, 580 
 
 How are ye join'd with hell in triple knot 
 Against th' unarmed weakness of one virgin 
 Alone, and helpless ! Is this the confidence 
 You gave me, Brother ? 
 
 Eld. Bro. Yes, and keep it still, 
 
 Lean on it safely, not a period 585 
 
 Shall be unsaid for me : against the threats 
 Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 
 Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm, 
 Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, 
 
 Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd, 590 
 
 Yea even that which mischief meant most harm, 
 
48 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. 
 
 But evil on itself shall back recoil, 
 
 And mix no more with goodness, when at last 
 
 Gather 'd like scum, and settl'd to itself 565 
 
 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. But, come, let's on. 
 
 Against th' opposing will and arm of Heav'n 600 
 
 May never this just sword be lifted up, 
 
 But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt 
 
 With all the grisly legions that troop 
 
 Under the sooty flag of Acheron, 
 
 Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 605 
 
 Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, 
 
 And force him to restore his purchase back, 
 
 Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death, 
 
 Curs'd as his life. 
 
 S}<ir. Alas, good vent'rous youth, 
 
 I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise, 610 
 
 But here thy sword can do thee little stead, 
 Far other arms, and other weapons must 
 Be those that quell the might of hellish charms, 
 He with his bare wand can unthred thy joints, 
 And crumble all thy sinews. 
 
 Eld. Bro. Why, prythee, Shepherd, 615 
 
 How durst thou then thyself approach so near 
 As to make this relation ? 
 
 Spir. Care and utmost shifts 
 
 How to secure the Lady from surprisal, 
 Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad 
 Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd 6*0 
 
 In every virtuous plant and healing herb 
 That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray. 
 He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sin^ 
 
MILTON 49 
 
 Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
 
 Would sit, and hearken even to extasy, 625 
 
 And in requital ope his leathern scrip, 
 
 And shew me simples of a thousand names 
 
 Telling their strange and vigorous faculties ; 
 
 Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, 
 
 But of divine effect, he cull'd me out ; 630 
 
 The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, 
 
 But in another country, as he said, 
 
 Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil : 
 
 Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain 
 
 Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon, 635 
 
 And yet more med'cinal is it then that Moly 
 
 That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave ; 
 
 He call'd it Hcemony, and gave it me, 
 
 And bade me keep it as of sovran use 
 
 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp 640 
 
 Or ghastly Fury's apparition ; 
 
 I purst it up, but little reckoning made, 
 
 Till now that this extremity compell'd. 
 
 But now I find it true ; for by this means 
 
 I knew the foul enchanter though disguis'd, 645 
 
 Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells, 
 
 And yet came off : if you have this about you 
 
 (As I will give you when we go) you may 
 
 Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 
 
 Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, 650 
 
 And brandisht blade rush on him, break his glass, 
 
 And shed the luscious liquor on the ground, 
 
 But seize his wand, though he and his curst crew 
 
 Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high, 
 
 Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke, 655 
 
 Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 
 
 Eld. Bro. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee, 
 And some good angel bear a shield before us. 
 
50 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 The Scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of 
 deliciousness ; soft Musick. Tables spread with all dainties. 
 COMUS appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an 
 enchanted Chair, to wJwm he offers his Glass, which she puts 
 by, and goes about to rise. 
 Camus. Nay, Lady, sit ; if I but wave this wand, 
 
 Your nerves are all chain'd up in Alablaster, 66 -> 
 
 And you a statue ; or as Daphne was 
 
 Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 
 
 La. Fool, do not boast. 
 
 Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
 
 With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
 
 Thou hast immanacPd, while Heav'n sees good. 665 
 
 Co. Why are you vext, Lady ? why do you frown ? 
 
 Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates 
 
 Sorrow flies far : See here be all the pleasures 
 
 That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, 
 
 When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 670 
 
 Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 
 
 And first behold this cordial julep here 
 
 That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds 
 
 With spirits of balm, and fragrant syrups mixt. 
 
 Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone, 675 
 
 In Egypt gave to /0t>e-born Helena 
 
 Is of such power to stir up joy as this, 
 
 To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 
 
 Why should you be so cruel to yourself, 
 
 And to those dainty limbs which nature lent 680 
 
 For gentle usage, and soft delicacy ? 
 
 But you invert the covenants of her trust, 
 
 And harshly deal like an ill borrower 
 
 With that which you received on other terms, 
 
 Scorning the unexempt condition 685 
 
 By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 
 
 Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, 
 
MILTON 51 
 
 That have been tir'd all day without repast, 
 And timely rest have wanted, but, fair Virgin, 
 This will restore all soon. 
 
 La. 'Twill not, false traitor, 690 
 
 Twill not restore the truth and honesty 
 That thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies. 
 Was this the cottage, and the safe abode 
 Thou told'st me of ? What grim aspects are these, 
 These oughly-headed Monsters ? Mercy guard me ! 695 
 
 Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul deceiver, 
 Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence 
 With visor'd falshood, and base forgery, 
 And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
 With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute ? 700 
 
 Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
 I \pould not taste thy treasonous offer ; none 
 But such as are good men can give good things, 
 And that which is not good, is not delicious 
 To a well-go vern'd and wise appetite. 705 
 
 Co. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
 To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, 
 And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, 
 Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence. 
 Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth, 710 
 
 With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, 
 Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
 Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, 
 But all to please, and sate the curious taste ? 
 And set to work millions of spinning worms, 715 
 
 That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk 
 To deck her sons, and that no corner might 
 Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins 
 She huteh't th' all-worshipt ore, and precious gems 
 To store her children with ; if all the world 720 
 
 Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse, 
 
 42 
 
52 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, 
 Th' All-giver would be unthank't, would be unprais'd, 
 Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd, 
 And we should serve him as a grudging master, 725 
 
 As a penurious niggard of his wealth, 
 And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons, 
 Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 
 And strangled with her waste fertility ; 
 Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with plumes, 
 The herds would over-multitude their lords, 731 
 
 The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th 'unsought diamonds 
 Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 
 And so bestud with stars, that they below 
 Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last 735 
 
 To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 
 List, Lady, be not coy, and be not cozen'd 
 
 With that same vaunted name Virginity. 
 Beauty is nature's coin, must not be hoarded, 
 But must be current, and the good thereof 740 
 
 Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss, 
 Unsavoury in th' enjoyment of itself. 
 If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 
 It withers on the stalk with languish't head. 
 Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown 745 
 
 In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities 
 Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; 
 It is for homely features to keep home, 
 They had their name thence ; coarse complexions 
 And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750 
 
 The sampler, and to teaze the housewife's wool. 
 What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that 
 Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn 1 
 There was another meaning in these gifts, 
 Think what, and be advis'd, you are but young yet. 755 
 
 La I had not thought to have unlockt my lips 
 
MILTON 53 
 
 In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler 
 
 Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, 
 
 Obtruding false rules prankt in reason's garb. 
 
 I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, 760 
 
 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 
 
 Means her provision only to the good 765 
 
 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 770 
 
 Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 
 
 Nature's full blessings would be well dispens't 
 
 In unsuperfluous even proportion, 
 
 And she no whit encumbered with her store, 
 
 And then the giver would be better thank't, 775 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Or have I said enough 1 To him that dares 780 
 
 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 
 
 The sublime notion and high mystery 785 
 
 That must be utter'd 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. 
 
 Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric 790 
 
 That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, 
 
54 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinc't ; 
 
 Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth 
 
 Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 
 
 To such a flame of sacred vehemence, 795 
 
 That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathise, 
 
 And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, 
 
 Till all thy magic structures rear'd so high, 
 
 Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head. 
 
 Co. She fables not, I feel that I do fear 800 
 
 Her words set off by some superior power ; 
 And though not mortal, yet a cold shudd'ring dew 
 Dips m6 all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 
 Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus 
 To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 805 
 
 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 
 And settlings of a melancholy blood ; 8 1 o 
 
 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 wake sign o/ 
 resistance, but are all driven in; The attendant SPIRIT comes in. 
 
 Spir. What, have you let the false enchanter scape ? 
 O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand 8 1 5 
 
 And bound him fast ; without his rod revers't, 
 And backward mutters of dissevering power, 
 We cannot free the Lady that sits here 
 In stony fetters fixt, and motionless ; 
 
 Yet stay, be not disturbed, now I bethink me, 820 
 
 Some, other means I have, which may be us'd ? 
 
MILTON 55 
 
 Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt 
 The soothest Shepherd that ere pip't on plains. 
 There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence, 
 That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, 825 
 Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure, 
 Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, 
 That had the Sceptre from his father Brute. 
 The guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit 
 Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen, 830 
 
 Commended her fair innocence to the flood 
 That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
 The water Nymphs that in the bottom play'd, 
 Held up their pearled wrists and took her in, 
 Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, 835 
 
 Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, 
 And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 
 In nectar'd lavers strew'd with asphodel, 
 And through the porch and inlet of each sense 
 Dropt in ambrosial oils till she reviv'd, 840 
 
 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, 
 Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 845 
 
 That the shrewd meddling Elf delights to make, 
 Which she with precious-vial'd liquors heals. 
 For which the Shepherds at their festivals 
 Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, 
 
 And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850 
 
 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 invok't in warbled song, 
 For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 855 
 
 To aid a virgin, such as was her self 
 
56 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 In hard besetting need, this will I try 
 And add the power of some adjuring verse. 
 
 SONG. 
 Sabrina fair, 
 
 Listen where thou art sitting 860 
 
 Under the glassy, cool, translucent waw; 
 
 In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
 The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair, 
 Listen for dear honours sake, 
 
 Goddess of the silver lake, 865 
 
 Listen and save ! 
 
 Listen and appear to us 
 
 In name of great Oceanus, 
 
 By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 
 
 And Tethys grave majestic pace, 870 
 
 By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 
 
 And the Carpathian wi sard's hook, 
 
 By scaly Triton's winding shell, 
 
 And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell, 
 
 By Leucothea's lovely hands, 875 
 
 And her son that rules the strands, 
 
 By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, 
 
 And the Songs of Sirens sweet, 
 
 By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 
 
 And fair Ligea's golden comb, 880 
 
 Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks 
 
 Sleeking her soft alluring locks, 
 
 By all the Nymphs that nightly dance 
 
 Upon thy streams with wily glance, 
 
 Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 885 
 
 From thy coral- pav'n bed, 
 
 And bridle in thy headlong wave, 
 
 Till thou our summons answered have. 
 
 Listen and save ! 
 
MILTON 57 
 
 SABRINA rises, attended by Water-Nymphs, and sings. 
 
 By the rushy-fringed bank, 890 
 
 Where grows the willow and the osier dank, 
 
 My sliding chariot stays, 
 Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen 
 Of turkis blue, and Em'rald green 
 
 That In the channel strays, 895 
 
 Whilst from off the waters fleet 
 Thus I set my printkss feet 
 O'er the cowslip's velvet head, 
 
 That bends not as I tread, 
 Gentle swain, at thy request, 900 
 
 / am here. 
 
 Spir. Goddess dear, 
 We implore thy powerful hand 
 To undo the charmed band 
 
 Of true Virgin here distrest, 905 
 
 Through the force, and through the wile 
 Of unblest enchanter vile. 
 
 Sab. Shepherd, 'tis my office best 
 To help ensnared chastity ; 
 
 Brightest Lady, look on me, 910 
 
 Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 
 Drops that from my fountain pure, 
 I have kept of precious cure, 
 Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 
 Thrice upon thy rubied lip, 915 
 
 Next this marble venom 'd seat 
 Smear'd with gums of glutinous beat 
 I touch with chaste palms moist and cold, 
 Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 
 And I must haste ere morning hour 920 
 
 To wait in Amphitrites bow'r. 
 
58 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 SABRINA descends, and the LADY rises out of her seat. 
 
 Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, 
 Sprung of old Anchise's line, 
 May thy brimmed waves for tnis 
 Their full tribute never miss 925 
 
 From a thousand petty rills, 
 That tumble down the snowy hills : 
 Summer drouth, or singed air 
 Never scorch thy tresses fair, 
 Nor wet Octobers torrent flood 930 
 
 Thy molten crystal fill with mud, 
 May thy billows roll ashore 
 The beryl, and the golden ore, 
 May thy lofty head be crown 'd 
 With many a tower and terrace round, 935 
 
 And here and there thy banks upon 
 With groves of myrrh, and cinnamon. 
 Come, Lady, while Heaven lends us grace, 
 Let us fly this cursed place, 
 Lest the Sorcerer us entice 940 
 
 With some other new device. 
 Not a waste, or needless sound 
 Till we come to holier ground, 
 I shall be your faithful guide 
 Through this gloomy covert wide, 945 
 
 And not many furlongs thence 
 Is your father's residence, 
 Where this night are met in state 
 Many a friend to gratulate 
 
 His wish't presence, and beside 950 
 
 All the swains that there abide, 
 With jigs, and rural dance resort, 
 We shall catch them at their sport, 
 And our sudden coming there 
 Will double all their mirth and cheer ; 955 
 
MILTON 59 
 
 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. 
 
 Spir. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your play, 
 Till next sunshine holiday, 
 
 Here be without duck or nod 960 
 
 Other trippings to be trod 
 Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
 As Mercury did first devise 
 With the mincing Dryades 
 On the Lawns, and on the Leas. 965 
 
 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, 
 
 Heav'n hath timely trid their youth, 970 
 
 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 
 
 O'er sensual folly, and intemperance. 975 
 
 The dances ended, the SPIRIT epiloguizes. 
 
 Spir. 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 : 
 There I suck the liquid air 980 
 
 AH amidst the Gardens fajr 
 
60 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Of Hesperus, and his daughters three 
 
 That sing about the golden tree : 
 
 Along the crisped shades and bowers 
 
 Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, 985 
 
 The Graces, and the rosie-bosom'd Hours, 
 
 Thither all their bounties bring, 
 
 That there eternal Summer dwells, 
 
 And West winds, with musky wing 
 
 About the cedarn alleys fling 990 
 
 Nard, and Cassia's balmy smells. 
 
 Iris there with humid bow, 
 
 Waters the odorous banks that blow 
 
 Flowers of more mingled hue 
 
 Than her purfl'd scarf can shew, 995 
 
 And drenches with Elysian dew 
 
 (List mortals, if your ears be true) 
 
 Beds of Hyacinth, and roses 
 
 Where young Adonis oft reposes, 
 
 Waxing well of his deep wound 1000 
 
 In slumber soft, and on the ground 
 
 Sadly sits th' Assyrian Queen ; 
 
 But far above in spangled sheen 
 
 Celestial Cupid, her fam'd son, advanc't, 
 
 Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranc't 1005 
 
 After her wand'ring labours long, 
 
 Till free consent the gods among 
 
 Make her his eternal Bride, 
 
 And from her fair unspotted side 
 
 Two blissful twins are to be born, 1010 
 
 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, 
 Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, 1015 
 
MILTON 61 
 
 And from thence can soar as soon 
 To the corners of the Moon. 
 
 Mortals that would follow me, 
 Love virtue, she alone is free, 
 She can teach ye how to climb 1020 
 
 Higher then the Sphery chime ; 
 Or if Virtue feeble were, 
 Heav'n itself would stoop to her. 
 
 IV. 
 MILTON. 
 
 PARADISE LOST. 
 
 (BOOK VI.) 
 
 The Argument. Raphael continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel 
 were sent forth to Battle against Satan and his Angels. The first Fight 
 described : Satan and his Powers retire under Night : He calls a Council, 
 invents devilish Engines, which in the second day's Fight put Michael 
 and his Angels to some disorder ; But they at length pulling up Mountains 
 overwhelmed both the force and Machines of Satan : Yet the Tumult 
 not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah his Son, for whom he 
 had reserved the glory of that Victory : He in the power of his Father 
 coming to the place, and causing all his Legions to stand still on either 
 side, with his Chariot and Thunder driving into the midst of his Enemies, 
 pursues them, unable to resist, towards the wall of Heaven ; which open- 
 ing, they leap down with horror and confusion into the place of punish- 
 ment prepared for them in the Deep : Messiah returns with triumph to 
 his Father. 
 
 ALL night the dreadless Angel unpursu'd 
 
 Through Heav'n's wide champaign held his way, till Morn 
 
 Wak't by the circling Hours, with rosy hand 
 
 Unbarr'd the gates of light. There is a cave 
 
 Within the Mount of God, fast by his throne, 5 
 
 Where light and darkness in perpetual round 
 
 Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heav'n 
 
 Grateful vicissitude, like day and night ; 
 
 Light issues forth, and at the other door 
 
62 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour 10 
 
 To veil the Heav'n, though darkness there might well 
 
 Seem twilight here ; and now went forth the morn, 
 
 Such as in highest Heav'n, array'd in gold 
 
 Empyreal ; from before her vanisht night, 
 
 Shot through with orient beams : when all the plain 1 5 
 
 Cover'd with thick embattled squadrons bright, 
 
 Chariots and flaming arms, and fiery steeds 
 
 Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view : 
 
 War he pereeiv'd, war in procinct, and found 
 
 Already known what he for news had thought 20 
 
 To have reported : gladly then he mixt 
 
 Among those friendly Powers who him received 
 
 With joy and acclamations loud, that one 
 
 That of so many myriads fall'n, yet one 
 
 Returned not lost : on to the sacred hill 25 
 
 They led him high applauded, and present 
 
 Before the seat supreme ; from whence a voice 
 
 From midst a golden cloud thus mild was heard. 
 
 Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought 
 The better fight, who single hast maintained 30 
 
 Against revolted multitudes the cause 
 Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; 
 And for the testimony of truth hast borne 
 Universal reproach, far worse to bear 
 Than violence : for this was all thy care 35 
 
 To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds 
 Judg'd thee perverse : the easier conquest now 
 Remains thee, aided by this host of friends, 
 Back on thy foes more glorious to returi? 
 Than scorn'd thou didst depart, and to subdue 40 
 
 By force, who reason for their law refuse, 
 Right reason for their law, and for their king 
 Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. 
 Go, Midiael, of celestial armies prince, 
 
MILTON 68 
 
 And thou in military prowess next 45 
 
 Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons 
 
 Invincible, lead forth my armed saints 
 
 By thousands and by millions rang'd for fight , 
 
 Equal in number to that godless crew 
 
 ^Rebellious : them with fire and hostile arms 50 
 
 Fearless assault, and to the brow of Heav'n 
 
 Pursuing drive them out from God and bliss, 
 
 Into their place of punishment, the gulf 
 
 Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide 
 
 His fiery Chaos to receive their fall. 55 
 
 So spake the sovran voice, and clouds began 
 To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll 
 In dusky wreaths reluctant flames, the sign 
 Of wrath awak't : nor with less dread the loud 
 Ethereal trumpet from on high gan blow : 60 
 
 At which command the powers militant, 
 That stood for Heav'n, in mighty quadrate join'd 
 Of union irresistible, mov'd on 
 In silence their bright legions, to the sound 
 Of instrumental harmony that breath'd 65 
 
 Heroic ardour to advent'rous deeds 
 Under their god-like leaders, in the cause 
 Of God and his Messiah. On they move 
 Indissolubly firm ; nor obvious hill, 
 Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream divides 70 
 Their perfect ranks ; for high above the ground 
 Their march was, and the passive air upbore 
 Their nimble tread ; as when the total kind 
 Of birds in orderly array on wing 
 
 Came summon'd over Eden to receive 75 
 
 Their names of thee ; so over many a tract 
 Of Heav'n they march'd, and many a province wide 
 Tenfold the length of this terrene : at last 
 Far in th' horizon to the north appear'd 
 
64 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretcht 80 
 
 In battailous aspect, and nearer view 
 
 Bristl'd with upright beams innumerable 
 
 Of rigid spears, and helmets throng'd, and shields 
 
 Various, with boastful Argument portray 'd, 
 
 The banded powers of Satan hasting on 85 
 
 With furious expedition ; for they ween'd 
 
 That self-same day by fight, or by surprise 
 
 To win the mount of God, and on his throne 
 
 To set the envier of his state, the proud 
 
 Aspirer, but their thoughts prov'd fond and vain 90 
 
 In the mid way : though strange to us it seem'd 
 
 At first, that Angel should with Angel war, 
 
 And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet 
 
 So oft in festivals of joy and love 
 
 Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire 95 
 
 Hymning th' Eternal Father : but the shout 
 
 Of battle now began, and rushing sound 
 
 Of onset ended soon each milder thought. 
 
 High in the midst exalted as a God 
 
 Th 1 apostate in his Sun-bright Chariot sate 100 
 
 Idol of majesty divine, enclosed 
 
 With flaming cherubim, and golden shields ; 
 
 Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now 
 
 'Twixt Host and Host but narrow space was left, 
 
 A dreadful interval, and front to front 105 
 
 Presented stood in terrible array 
 
 Of hideous length : before the cloudy van, 
 
 On the rough edge of battle ere it join'd, 
 
 Satan with vast and haughty strides advane't, 
 
 Came tow'ring, ann'd in adamant and gold ; no 
 
 Abdiel that sight endur'd not, where he stood 
 
 Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds, 
 
 And thus his own undaunted heart explores. 
 
 Heav'n ! that such resemblance of the Highest 
 
MILTON 65 
 
 Should yet remain, where faith and realty 1 15 
 
 Remain not ; wherefore should not strength and might 
 
 There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove 
 
 Where boldest ; though to sight unconquerable 1 
 
 His puissance, trusting in th' Almighty's aid, 
 
 I mean to try, whose reason I have tri'd 120 
 
 Unsound and false ; nor is it aught but just, 
 
 That he who in debate of truth hath won, 
 
 Should win in arms, in both disputes alike 
 
 Victor ; though brutish that contest and foul, 
 
 When reason hath to deal with force, yet so 125 
 
 Most reason is that reason overcome. 
 
 So pondering, and from his armed peers 
 Forth stepping opposite, half-way he met 
 His daring foe, at this prevention more 
 Incens't, and thus securely him defi'd. 130 
 
 Proud, art thou met ? thy hope was to have reacht 
 The height of thy aspiring unoppos'd, 
 The throne of God unguarded, and his side 
 Abandoned at the terror of thy power 
 
 Or potent tongue ; fool, not to think how vain 135 
 
 Against th' Omnipotent to rise in arms ; 
 Who out of smallest things could without end 
 Have rais'd incessant armies to defeat 
 Thy folly ; or with solitary hand 
 
 Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow 140 
 
 Unaided could have finisht thee, and whelm'd 
 Thy legions under darkness ; but thou seest 
 All are not of thy train ; there be who faith 
 Prefer, and piety to God, though then 
 
 To thee not visible, when I alone 145 
 
 Seemed in thy world erroneous to dissent 
 From all : my sect thou seest, now learn too late 
 How few sometimes may know, when thousands err, 
 
 Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance, 
 
 5 
 
66 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Thus answer'd. Ill for thee, but in wisht hour 150 
 
 Of my revenge, first sought for thou return'st 
 
 From flight, seditious Angel, to receive 
 
 Thy merited reward, the first assay 
 
 Of this right hand provok't, since first that tongue 
 
 Inspired with contradiction durst oppose 155 
 
 A third part of the gods, in synod met 
 
 Their deities to assert, who while they feel 
 
 Vigour divine within them, can allow 
 
 Omnipotence to none. But well thou comst 
 
 Before thy fellows, ambitious to win 160 
 
 From me some plume, that thy success may show 
 
 Destruction to the rest : this pause between 
 
 (Unanswer'd lest thou boast) to let thee know ; 
 
 At first I thought that liberty and Heav'n 
 
 To heav'nly souls had been all one ; but now 165 
 
 I see that most through sloth had rather serve, 
 
 Minist'ring spirits, trained up in feast and song ; 
 
 Such hast thou arm'd, the minstrelsy of Heav'n, 
 
 Servility with freedom to contend, 
 
 As both their deeds compar'd this day shall prove. 170 
 
 To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern repli'd. 
 Apostate still thou err'st, nor end wilt find 
 Of erring, from the path of truth remote : 
 Unjustly thou deprav'st it with the name 
 Of Servitude to serve whom God ordains, 175 
 
 Or Nature ; God and Nature bid the same, 
 When he who rules is worthiest, and excels 
 Them whom he governs. This is servitude, 
 To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebell'd 
 Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, 180 
 
 Thy self not free, but to thy self enthralPd ; 
 Yet lewdly dar'st our minist'ring upbraid. 
 Eeign thou in hell thy kingdom, let me serve 
 In Heav'n God ever blest, and his divine 
 
MILTON 67 
 
 Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd, 185 
 
 Yet chains in hell, not realms expect : meanwhile 
 From me return'd, as erst thou saidst, from flight, 
 This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 
 So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
 Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 190 
 
 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 
 Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield 
 Such ruin intercept : ten paces huge 
 He back recoil'd ; the tenth on bended knee 
 His massy spear upstaid ; as if on earth 195 
 
 Winds under ground or waters forcing way 
 Sidelong, had pusht a mountain from his seat 
 Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seiz'd 
 The rebel thrones, but greater rage to see 
 Thus foil'd their mightiest : ours joy fill'd, and shout, 200 
 Presage of victory and fierce desire 
 Of battle : whereat Michael bid sound 
 Th' arch-angel trumpet ; through the vast of heav'n 
 It sounded, and the faithful armies rung 
 Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze 205 
 
 The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd 
 The horrid shock : now storming fury rose, 
 And clamour such as heard in Heav'n till now 
 Was never, arms on armour clashing bray'd 
 Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 210 
 
 Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise 
 Of conflict ; over head the dismal hiss 
 Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, 
 And flying vaulted either host with fire. 
 So under fiery cope together rush'd 215 
 
 Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
 And inextinguishable rage ; all Heav'n 
 Eesounded, and had earth been then, all earth 
 Had to her centre shook. What wonder ? when 
 
 52 
 
68 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Millions of fierce encountering angels fought 220 
 
 On either side, the least of whom could wield 
 
 These elements, and arm him with the force 
 
 Of all their regions : how much more of power 
 
 Army against army numberless to raise 
 
 Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb, 225 
 
 Though not destroy, their happy native seat ; 
 
 Had not th' Eternal King omnipotent 
 
 From his strong hold of Heav'n high over-rul'd 
 
 And limited their might ; though numbered such 
 
 As each divided legion might have seem'd 230 
 
 A numerous host, in strength each armed hand 
 
 A legion ; led in fight, yet leader seem'd 
 
 Each warrior single as in chief, expert 
 
 When to advance or stand, or turn the sway 
 
 Of battle, open when, and when to close 235 
 
 The ridges of grim war ; no thought of flight^ 
 
 None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 
 
 That argu'd fear ; each on himself reli'd, 
 
 As only in his arm the moment lay 
 
 Of victory ; deeds of eternal fame 240 
 
 Were done, but infinite : for wide was spread 
 
 That War and various ; sometimes on firm ground 
 
 A standing fight, then soaring on main wing 
 
 Tormented all the air ; all air seem'd then 
 
 Conflicting fire : long time in even scale 245 
 
 The battle hung ; till Satan, who that day 
 
 Prodigious power had shewn, and met in arms 
 
 No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
 
 Of fighting seraphim confus'd, at length 
 
 Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 250 
 
 Squadrons at once, with huge two-handed sway 
 
 Brandisht aloft the horrid edge came down 
 
 Wide wasting ; such destruction to withstand 
 
 He hasted, and oppos'd the rocky orb 
 
MILTON 69 
 
 Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield 255 
 
 A vast circumference : At his approach 
 
 The great arch-angel from his warlike toil 
 
 Surceas'd, and glad as hoping here to end 
 
 Intestine war in Heav'n, the arch foe subdu'd 
 
 Or captive dragg'd in chains, with hostile frown 260 
 
 And visage all enflam'd first thus began. 
 
 Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt, 
 Unnam'd in Heav'n, now plenteous, as thou seest 
 These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all, 
 Though heaviest by just measure on thy self 265 
 
 And thy adherents : how hast thou disturb'd 
 Heav'n's blessed peace, and into nature brought 
 Misery, uncreated till the crime 
 Of thy rebellion ? how hast thou instill'd 
 Thy malice into thousands, once upright 270 
 
 And faithful, now prov'd false. But think not here 
 To trouble holy rest ; Heav'n casts thee out 
 From all her confines. Heav'n the seat of bliss 
 Brooks not the works of violence and war. 
 Hence then, and evil go with thee along 275 
 
 Thy offspring, to the place of evil, hell, 
 Thou and thy wicked crew ; there mingle broils, 
 Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom, 
 Or some more sudden vengeance wing'd from God 
 Precipitate thee with augmented pain. 280 
 
 So spake the Prince of Angels ; to whom thus 
 The Adversary. Nor think thou with wind 
 Of airy threats to aw6 whom yet with deeds 
 Thou canst not. Hast thou turn'd the least of these 
 To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise 285 
 
 Unvanquisht, easier to transact with me 
 That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats 
 To chase me hence *? err not that so shall end 
 The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style 
 
70 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 The strife of Glory : which we mean to win, 290 
 
 Or turn this Heav'n itself into the hell 
 
 Thou fablest, here however to dwell free, 
 
 If not to reign : meanwhile thy utmost force, 
 
 And join him nam'd Almighty to thy aid, 
 
 I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh. 295 
 
 They ended parle, and both addrest for fight 
 Unspeakable ; for who, though with the tongue 
 Of angels, can relate, or to what things 
 Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift 
 Human imagination to such height 300 
 
 Of godlike power : for likest gods they seemed, 
 Stood they or mov'd, in stature, motion, arms, 
 Fit to decide the empire of great Heav'n. 
 Now wav'd thir fiery swords, and in the air 
 Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 305 
 
 Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood 
 In horror ; from each hand with speed retired 
 Where erst was thickest fight, th' angelic throng 
 And left large field unsafe within the wind 
 Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth 310 
 
 Great things by small, if nature's concord broke, 
 Among the constellations war were sprung, 
 Two planets rushing from aspect malign 
 Of fiercest opposition in mid sky, 
 
 Should combat, and their jarring Spheres confound. 3 1 5 
 
 Together both, with next to almightie arm 
 Uplifted imminent, one stroke they aim'd 
 That might determine, and not need repeat, 
 As not of power, at once ; nor odds appear'd 
 In might or swift prevention ; but the sword 320 
 
 Of Michael from the armoury of God 
 Was giv'n him tempered so, that neither keen 
 Nor solid might resist that edge : it met 
 The sword of Satan with steep force to smite 
 
MILTON 71 
 
 Descending, and in half cut sheer, nor stay'd, 325 
 
 But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering shar'd 
 
 All his right side ; then Satan first knew pain, 
 
 And writh'd him to and fro convolved ; so sore 
 
 The griding sword with discontinuous wound 
 
 Pass'd through him, but th' ethereal substance clos'd 330 
 
 Not long divisible, and from the gash 
 
 A stream of nectarous humour issuing flow'd 
 
 Sanguine such as celestial spirits may bleed, 
 
 And all his armour stain'd, erewhile so bright. 
 
 Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run 335 
 
 By angels many and strong, who interposed 
 
 Defence, while others bore him on their shields 
 
 Back to his chariot ; where it stood retired 
 
 From off the files of war : there they him laid 
 
 Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame 340 
 
 To find himself not matchless, and his pride 
 
 Humbl'd by such rebuke, so far beneath 
 
 His confidence to equal God in power. 
 
 Yet soon he heal'd ; for spirits that live throughout 
 
 Vital in every part, not as frail man 345 
 
 In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, 
 
 Cannot but by annihilating die ; 
 
 Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound 
 
 Receive, no more than can the fluid Air : 
 
 All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear, 350 
 
 All intellect, all sense, and as they please, 
 
 They limb themselves, and colour, shape or size 
 
 Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare. 
 
 Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deserv'd 
 Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought, 355 
 
 And with fierce ensigns pierc'd the deep array 
 Of Moloch, furious King, who him defi'd, 
 And at his Chariot wheels to drag him bound 
 Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of Heav'n 
 
72 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous ; but anon 360 
 
 Down clov'n to the waist, with shattered arms 
 
 And uncouth pain fled bellowing. On each wing 
 
 Uriel and Raphael his vaunting foe, 
 
 Though huge, and in a rock of diamond arm'd, 
 
 Vanquished Adramdech> and Asmodai, 365 
 
 Two potent thrones, that to be less than gods 
 
 Disdain'd, but meaner thoughts learn'd in their flight, 
 
 MangPd with gastly wounds through plate and mail. 
 
 Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoy 
 
 The Atheist crew, but with redoubl'd blow 370 
 
 Ariel and Arioc, and the violence 
 
 Of Ramiel scorcht and blasted overthrew. 
 
 I might relate of thousands, and their names 
 
 Eternise here on earth ; but those elect 
 
 Angels contented with their fame in Heav'n 375 
 
 Seek not the praise of men ; the other sort 
 
 In might though wondrous and in acts of war 
 
 Nor of renown less eager, yet by doom 
 
 CanceFd from Heav'n and sacred memory, 
 
 Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell. 380 
 
 For strength from truth divided and from just, 
 
 Illaudable, naught merits but dispraise 
 
 And ignominy, yet to glory aspires 
 
 Vainglorious, and through infamy seeks fame : 
 
 Therefore Eternal silence be their doom. 385 
 
 And now their mightiest quell'd, the battle swerv'd, 
 With many an inroad gor'd ; deformed rout 
 Enter'd, and foul disorder ; all the ground 
 With shiver'd armour strown, and on a heap 
 Chariot and charioteer lay overturn'd 390 
 
 And fiery foaming steeds ; what stood, recoil'd 
 Overwearied, through the faint satanic host 
 Defensive scarce, or with pale fear surprised, 
 Then first with fear surprised and sense of pain 
 
MILTON 73 
 
 Fled ignominious, to such evil brought 395 
 
 By sin of disobedience, till that hour 
 
 Not liable to fear or flight or pain. 
 
 Far otherwise th' inviolable saints 
 
 In cubic phalanx firm advanc't entire, 
 
 Invulnerable, impenetrably arm'd : 400 
 
 Such high advantages their innocence 
 
 Gave them above their foes, not to have sinn'd, 
 
 Not to have disobey 'd ; in fight they stood 
 
 Unwearied, unobnoxious to be pain'd 
 
 By wound, though from their place by violence mov'd. 405 
 
 Now Night her course began, and over Heav'n 
 Inducing darkness, grateful truce impos'd, 
 And silence on the odious din of war : 
 Under her cloudy covert both retired, 
 
 Victor and vanquisht : on the foughten field 410 
 
 Michael and his Angels prevalent 
 Encamping, plac'd in guard their watches round, 
 Cherubic waving fires : on th' other part 
 Satan with his rebellious disappear'd, 
 
 Far in the dark dislodg'd, and void of rest, 415 
 
 His potentates to council call'd by night ; 
 And in the midst thus undismay'd began. 
 
 O now in danger tri'd, now known in arms 
 Not to be overpowered, companions dear, 
 Found worthy not of liberty alone, 420 
 
 Too mean pretence, but what we more affect 
 Honour, dominion, glory, and renown, 
 Who have sustain'd one day in doubtful fight, 
 (And if one day, why not eternal days ?) 
 What Heaven's Lord had powerfullest to send 425 
 
 Against us from about his throne, and judg'd 
 Sufficient to subdue us to his will, 
 But proves not so : then fallible, it seems, 
 Of future we may deem him, though till now 
 
74 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd, 430 
 
 Some disadvantage we endur'd and pain, 
 
 Till now not known, but known, as soon contemn'd, 
 
 Since now we find this our empyreal form 
 
 Incapable of mortal injury, 
 
 Imperishable, and though pierc'd with wound, 455 
 
 Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd. 
 
 Of evil then so small as easy think 
 
 The remedy ; perhaps more valid arms, 
 
 Weapons more violent, when next we meet, 
 
 May serve to better us, and worse our foes, 440 
 
 Or equal what between us made the odds, 
 
 In nature none : if other hidden cause 
 
 Left them superior, while we can preserve 
 
 Unhurt our minds, and understanding sound, 
 
 Due search and consultation will disclose. 445 
 
 He sat ; and in th 7 assembly next upstood 
 Nisroch, of Principalities the prime ; 
 As one he stood escap't from cruel fight, 
 Sore toil'd, his riv'n arms to havoc hewn, 
 And cloudy in aspect thus answering spake : 450 
 
 Deliverer from new lords, leader to free 
 Enjoyment of our right as gods ; yet hard 
 For gods, and too unequal work we find 
 Against unequal arms to fight in pain, 
 
 Against unpain'd, impassive ; from which evil 455 
 
 Ruin must needs ensue ; for what avails 
 Valour or strength, though matchless, quell'd with pain 
 Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands 
 Of mightiest. Sense of pleasure we may well 
 Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, 460 
 
 But live content, which is the calmest life : 
 But pain is perfect misery, the worst 
 Of evils, and excessive, overturns 
 All patience. He who therefore can invent 
 
MILTON 75 
 
 With what more forcible we may offend 465 
 
 Our yet unwounded enemies, or arm 
 
 Our selves with like defence, to me deserves 
 
 No less than for deliverance what we owe. 
 
 Whereto with look composed Satan replied. 
 Not uninvented that, which thou aright 470 
 
 Believ'st so main to our success, I bring ; 
 Which of us who beholds the bright surface 
 Of this ethereous mould whereon we stand, 
 This continent of spacious Heav'n, adorn'd 
 With plant, fruit, flower ambrosial, gems and gold, 475 
 
 Whose eye so superficially surveys 
 These things, as not to mind from whence they grow 
 Deep under ground, materials dark and crude, 
 Of spiritous and fiery spume, till toucht 
 With Heaven's ray, and temper'd they shoot forth 480 
 
 So beauteous, op'ning to the ambient light 1 
 These in their dark nativity the deep 
 Shall yield us, pregnant with infernal flame, 
 Which into hollow engines long and round 
 Thick-ramm'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire 485 
 
 Dilated and infuriate shall send forth 
 From far with thundering noise among our foes 
 Such implements of mischief as shall dash 
 To pieces, and o'erwhelm whatever stands 
 Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmed 490 
 
 The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt. 
 Nor long shall be our labour, yet ere dawn, 
 Effect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive ; 
 Abandon fear ; to strength and counsel join'd 
 Think nothing hard, much less to be despaired. 495 
 
 He ended, and his words their drooping cheer 
 Enlightn'd, and their languisht hope revived. 
 Th 7 invention all admir'd, and each, how he 
 To be th' inventer miss'd, so easy it seem'd 
 
76 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought 500 
 
 Impossible : yet haply of thy race 
 
 In future days, if malice should abound, 
 
 Some one intent on mischief, or inspired 
 
 With dev'lish machination might devise 
 
 Like instrument to plague the sons of men 505 
 
 For sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent. 
 
 Forthwith from council to the work they flew. 
 
 None arguing stood, innumerable hands 
 
 Were ready, in a moment up they turn'd 
 
 Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath 510 
 
 Th' originals of nature in their crude 
 
 Conception ; sulphurous and nitrous foam 
 
 They found, they mingl'd, and with subtle art, 
 
 Concocted and adusted they redue'd 
 
 To blackest grain, and into store convey'd : 515 
 
 Part hidd'n veins digg'd up (nor hath this earth 
 
 Entrails unlike) of mineral and stone, 
 
 Whereof to found their engines and their balls 
 
 Of missive ruin ; part incentive reed 
 
 Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire. 520 
 
 So all ere day-spring, under conscious night 
 
 Secret they finished, and in order set, 
 
 With silent circumspection unespi'd. 
 
 Now when fair morn orient in Heav'n appeared 
 
 Up rose the victor angels, and to arms 525 
 
 The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
 
 Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
 
 Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 
 
 Look'd round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour, 
 
 Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 530 
 
 Where lodg'd, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
 
 In motion or in halt : him soon they met 
 
 Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
 
 But firm battalion ; back with speediest sail 
 
MILTON 77 
 
 Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 535 
 
 Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cri'd. 
 
 Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand, 
 Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
 This day, fear not his flight ; so thick a cloud 
 He comes, and settl'd in his face I see 540 
 
 Sad resolution and secure : let each 
 His adamantine coat gird well, and each 
 Fit well his helm, grip fast his orbed shield, 
 Borne even or high, for this day will pour down, 
 If I conjecture aught, no drizzling show'r, 545 
 
 But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire. 
 So warn'd he them aware themselves, and soon 
 In order, quit of all impediment, 
 Instant without disturb they took alarm, 
 And onward move embattled ; when, behold ! 550 
 
 Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe 
 Approaching gross and huge ; in hollow cube 
 Training his devilish enginry, impal'd 
 On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 
 To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 555 
 
 A while, but suddenly at head appeared 
 Satan : And thus was heard commanding loud. 
 
 Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold ; 
 That all may see who hate us, how we seek 
 Peace and composure, and with open breast 560 
 
 Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
 Our overture, and turn not back perverse ; 
 But that I doubt, however witness Heaven, 
 Heav'n witness thou anon, while we discharge 
 Freely our part : ye who appointed stand 565 
 
 Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch 
 What we propound, and loud that all may hear 
 
 So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce 
 Had ended ; when to right and left the front 
 
78 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Divided, and to either flank retir'd. 570 
 
 Which to our eyes discovered new and strange, 
 
 A triple-mounted row of pillars laid 
 
 On wheels (for like to pillars most they seem'd 
 
 Or hollow'd bodies made of oak or fir 
 
 With branches lopt, in wood or mountain fell'd) 575 
 
 Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths 
 
 With hideous orifice gap't on us wide, 
 
 Portending hollow truce ; at each behind 
 
 A Seraph stood, and in his hand a reed 
 
 Stood waving tipt with fire ; while we, suspense, 580 
 
 Collected stood within our thoughts amus'd, 
 
 Not long, for Budden all at once their reeds 
 
 Put forth, and to a narrow vent appli'd 
 
 With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame, 
 
 But soon obscur'd with smoke, all Heav'n appear'd, 585 
 
 From those deep-throated engines belcht, whose roar 
 
 Embowelled with outrageous noise the air, 
 
 And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul 
 
 Their devilish glut, chain J d thunderbolts and hail 
 
 Of iron globes, which on the victor host 590 
 
 Level'd, with such impetuous fury smote, 
 
 That whom they hit, none on their feet might stand, 
 
 Though standing else as rocks, but down they fell 
 
 By thousands, angel on arch-angel roll'd ; 
 
 The sooner for their arms, unarm'd they might 595 
 
 Have easily as spirits evaded swift 
 
 By quick contraction or remove ; but now 
 
 Foul dissipation followed and f orc't rout ; 
 
 Nor serv'd it to relax their serried files. 
 
 What should they do? if on they rusht, repulse 34 ; 600 
 
 Repeated, and indecent overthrow 
 
 DoubPd, would render them yet more despis'd, 
 
 And to their foes a laughter ; for in view 
 
 Stood rankt of Seraphim another row 
 
MILTON 79 
 
 In posture to displode their second tier 605 
 
 Of thunder : back defeated to return 
 
 They worse abhorr'd. Satan beheld their plight, 
 
 And to his mates thus in derision call'd. 
 
 O Friends, why come not on these victors proud ? 
 Ere while they fierce were coming, and when we, 610 
 
 To entertain them fair with open front 
 And breast, (what could we more ?) propounded terms 
 Of composition, straight they chang'd their minds, 
 Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell, 
 As they would dance, yet for a dance they seem'd 615 
 
 Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps 
 For joy of offer 'd peace : but I suppose 
 If our proposals once again were heard 
 We should compel them to a quick result. 
 
 To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood. 620 
 
 Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, 
 Of hard contents, and full of force urg'd home, 
 Such as we might perceive amus'd them all, 
 And stumbl'd many, who receives them right. 
 Had need from head to foot well understand ; 625 
 
 Not understood, this gift they have besides, 
 They shew us when our foes walk not upright. 
 
 So they among themselves in pleasant vein 
 Stood scoffing, heighten'd in their thoughts beyond 
 All doubt of victory, eternal might 630 
 
 To match with their inventions they presum'd 
 So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn, 
 And all his host derided, while they stood 
 A while in trouble ; but they stood not long, 
 Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms 635 
 Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. 
 Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power 
 Which God hath in his mighty angels plac'd) 
 Their arms away they threw, and to the hills 
 
80 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 (For earth hath this variety from Heav'n 640 
 
 Of pleasure situate in hill and dale) 
 
 Light as the lightning-glimpse they ran, they flew, 
 
 From their foundations loos'ning to and fro 
 
 They pluckt the seated hills with all their load, 
 
 Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops 645 
 
 Uplifting bore them in their hands. Amaze, 
 
 Be sure, and terror seized the rebel host, 
 
 When coming towards them so dread they saw 
 
 The bottom of the mountains upward turn'd, 
 
 Till on those cursed engines' triple row 650 
 
 They saw them whelm'd, and all their confidence 
 
 Under the weight of mountains buried deep, 
 
 Themselves invaded next, and on their heads 
 
 Main promontories flung, which in the air 
 
 Came shadowing, and opprest whole legions arm'd, 655 
 
 Their armour help'd their harm, crusht in and bruis'd 
 
 Into their substance pent, which wrought them pain 
 
 Implacable, and many a dolorous groan, 
 
 Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 
 
 Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light, 660 
 
 Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 
 
 The rest in imitation to like arms 
 
 Betook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore ; 
 
 So hills amid the air encountered hills 
 
 HuiTd to and fro with jaculation dire, 665 
 
 That under ground they fought in dismal shade ; 
 
 Infernal noise ; war seem'd a civil game 
 
 To this uproar ; horrid confusion heapt 
 
 Upon confusion rose : and now all Heav'n 
 
 Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, 670 
 
 Had not th' Almighty Father where he sits 
 
 Shrin'd in his Sanctuary of Heav'n secure, 
 
 Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen 
 
 This tumult, and permitted all, advis'd : 
 
MILTON 81 
 
 That his great purpose he might so fulfil, 675 
 
 To honour his Anointed Son aveng'd 
 
 Upon his enemies, and to declare 
 
 All power on him transferred : whence to his Son 
 
 Th' assessor of his throne he thus began. 
 
 Effulgence of my Glory, Son belov'd, 680 
 
 Son in whose face invisible is beheld 
 Visibly, what by Deity I am, 
 And in whose hand what by decree I do, 
 Second Omnipotence, two days are past, 
 Two days, as we compute the days of Heav'n, 685 
 
 Since Michael and his Powers went forth to tame 
 These disobedient ; sore hath been their fight, 
 As likeliest was, when two such foes met arm'd ; 
 For to themselves I left them, and thou know'st, 
 Equal in their creation they were form'd, 690 
 
 Save what sin hath impaired, which yet hath wrought 
 Insensibly, for I suspend their doom ; 
 Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last 
 Endless, and no solution will be found : 
 War wearied hath performed what war can do, 695 
 
 And to disordered rage let loose the reins, 
 With mountains as with weapons arm'd, which makes 
 Wild work in Heav'n, and dangerous to the main. 
 Two days are therefore past, the third is thine ; 
 For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus far 700 
 
 Have sufier'd, that the glory may be thine 
 Of ending this great war, since none but Thou 
 Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace 
 Immense I have transfus'd, that all ma> know 
 In Heav'n and Hell thy power above compare, 705 
 
 And this perverse commotion governed thus, 
 To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir 
 Of all things, to be Heir and to be King 
 By sacred unction, thy deserved right. 
 
82 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Go then thou Mightiest in thy Father's might, 710 
 
 Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheels 
 
 That shake Heav'n's basis, bring forth all iny war, 
 
 My bow and thunder, my almighty arms 
 
 Gird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh ; 
 
 Pursue these sons of Darkness, drive them out 715 
 
 From all HeavVs bounds into the utter deep : 
 
 There let them learn, as likes them, to despise 
 
 God and Messiah his anointed King. 
 
 He said, and on his Son with rays direct 
 Shone full, he all his Father full exprest 720 
 
 Ineffably into his face received, 
 And thus the filial Godhead answering spake. 
 
 O Father, Supreme of heav'nly Thrones, 
 First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seek'st 
 To glorify thy Son, I always thee, 725 
 
 As is most just ; this I my glory account, 
 My exaltation, and my whole delight, 
 That thou in me well pleas'd declar'st thy will 
 Fulfill'd, which to fulfil is all my bliss. 
 
 Sceptre and Power, thy giving, I assume, 730 
 
 And gladlier shall resign, when in the end 
 Thou shalt be All in All, and I in thee 
 For ever, and in me all whom thou lov'st ; 
 But whom thou hat'st, I hate, and can put on 
 Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, 735 
 
 Image of thee in all things ; and shall soon, 
 Arm'd with thy might, rid heav'n of these rebelFd 
 To their prepar'd ill mansion driven down 
 To chains of darkness, and th' undying worm, 
 That from thy just obedience could revolt, 740 
 
 Whom to obey is happiness entire. 
 Then shall thy Saints unmixt, and from th' impure 
 Far separate, circling thy holy mount 
 Unfeigned Halleluiahs to thee sing, 
 
MILTON 83 
 
 Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief. 745 
 
 So said, he o'er his sceptre bowing, rose 
 
 From the right hand of glory where he sate, 
 
 And the third sacred morn began to shine 
 
 Dawning through Heav'n : forth rush'd with whirl-wind sound 
 
 The chariot of paternal Deity, 750 
 
 Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn, 
 
 Itself instinct with Spirit, but convoy'd 
 
 By four Cherubic shapes : four faces each 
 
 Had wondrous, as with stars their -bodies all 
 
 And wings were set with eyes, with eyes the wheels 755 
 
 Of beryl, and careering fires between ; 
 
 Over their heads a crystal firmament, 
 
 Whereon a Sapphire throne, inlaid with pure 
 
 Amber, and colours of the show'ry arch. 
 
 He in celestial panoply all arm'd 760 
 
 Of radiant Urim, work divinely wrought, 
 
 Ascended, at his right hand Victory 
 
 Sate eagle-wing'd, beside him hung his bow 
 
 And quiver with three-bolted thunder stor'd, 
 
 And from about him fierce effusion rolPd 765 
 
 Of smoke and bickering flame, and sparkles dire ; 
 
 Attended with ten thousand thousand Saints, 
 
 He onward came, far off his coming shone, 
 
 And twenty thousand (I their number heard) 
 
 Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen : 770 
 
 He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime 
 
 On the crystalline sky, in sapphire thron'd. 
 
 Illustrious far and wide, but by his own 
 
 First seen, them unexpected joy surpris'd, 
 
 When the great ensign of Messiah blaz'd 775 
 
 Aloft by Angels born, his sign in Heav'n : 
 
 Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced 
 
 His army, circumfus'd on either wing, 
 
 Under their head embodied all in one. 
 
 62 
 
84 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Before him Power Divine his way prepared ; 780 
 
 At his command the uprooted hills retir'd 
 
 Each to his place, they heard his voice and went 
 
 Obsequious, Heav'n his wonted face renewed, 
 
 And with fresh flow'rets hill and valley smil'd. 
 
 This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdur'd, 785 
 
 And to rebellious fight rallied their powers 
 
 Insensate, hope conceiving from despair. 
 
 In heav'nly Spirits could such perverseness dwell ] 
 
 But to convince the proud what signs avail, 
 
 Or wonders move th* obdurate to relent ? 790 
 
 They hard'nd more by what might most reclaim, 
 
 Grieving to see his glory, at the sight 
 
 Took envy, and aspiring to his height, 
 
 Stood re-embattl'd fierce, by force or fraud 
 
 Weening to prosper, and at length prevail 795 
 
 Against God and Messiah, or to fall 
 
 In universal ruin last, and now 
 
 To final battle drew, disdaining flight, 
 
 Or faint retreat ; when the great Son of God 
 
 To all his host on either hand thus spake. 800 
 
 Stand still in bright array ye Saints, here stand 
 Ye Angels arm'd, this day from battle rest ; 
 Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God 
 Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause, 
 And as ye have receiv'd, so have ye done 805 
 
 Invincibly : but of this cursed crew 
 The punishment to other hand belongs, 
 Vengeance is his, or whose he sole appoints ; 
 Number to this day's work is not ordain'd 
 Nor multitude, stand only and behold 810 
 
 God's indignation on these godless pour'd 
 By me ; not you but me they have despis'd, 
 Yet envied ; against me is all their rage, 
 Because the Father, t' whom in Heav'n supreme 
 
MILTON 85 
 
 Kingdom and Power and Glory appertains, 815 
 
 Hath honoured me according to his will. 
 
 Therefore to me their doom he hath assigned ; 
 
 That they may have their wish, to try with me 
 
 In battle which the stronger proves, they all, 
 
 Or I alone against them, since by strength 820 
 
 They measure all, of other excellence 
 
 Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; 
 
 Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe. 
 
 So spake the Son, and into terror chang'd 
 His count'nance too severe to be beheld 825 
 
 And full of wrath bent on his enemies. 
 At once the Four spread out their starry wings 
 With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs 
 Of his fierce chariot roll'd, as with the sound 
 Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. 830 
 
 He on his impious foes right onward drove^ 
 Gloomy as night ; under his burning wheels 
 The stedfast empyrean shook throughout, 
 All but the throne itself of God. Full soon 
 Among them he arriv'd ; in his right hand 835 
 
 Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent 
 Before him, such as in their souls infix'd 
 Plagues ; they astonisht all resistance lost, 
 All courage ; down their idle weapons dropp'd ; 
 O'er shields and helms, and helmed heads he rode 840 
 Of Thrones and mighty Seraphim prostrate, 
 That wish'd the mountains now might be again 
 Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire. 
 Nor less on either side tempestuous fell 
 His arrows, from the fourfold-visag'd four, 845 
 
 Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels, 
 Distinct alike with multitude of eyes, 
 One spirit in them rul'd, and every eye 
 Glar'd lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire 
 
86 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Among th' accurst, that wither'd all their strength, 850 
 
 And of their wonted vigour left them drain'd, 
 
 Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall'n. 
 
 Yet half his strength he put not forth, but check'd 
 
 His thunder in mid volley, for he meant 
 
 Not to destroy, but root them out of Heav'n : 855 
 
 The overthrown he rais'd, and as a herd 
 
 Of goats or timorous flocks together throng'd 
 
 Drove them before him thunder-struck, pursu'd 
 
 With terrors and with furies to the 'bounds 
 
 And crystal wall of Heav'n, which op'ning wide, 860 
 
 Eoll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclos'd 
 
 Into the wasteful deep ; the monstrous sight 
 
 Struck them with horror backward, but far worse 
 
 Urg'd them behind ; headlong themselves they threw 
 
 Down from the verge of Heav'n, eternal wrath 865 
 
 Burnt after them to the bottomless pit. 
 
 Hell heard th' unsufferable noise, Hell saw 
 Heav'n ruining from Heav'n, and would have fled 
 Affrighted ; but strict Fate had cast too deep 
 Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound. 870 
 
 Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roar'd, 
 And felt tenfold confusion in their fall 
 Through his wild anarchy, so huge a rout 
 Encumber'd him with ruin : Hell at last 
 Yawning received them whole, and on them clos'd, 875 
 
 Hell their fit habitation fraught with fire 
 Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. 
 Disburd'nd Heav'n rejoic'd, and soon repair'd 
 Her mural breach, returning whence it roll'd. 
 Sole victor from th' expulsion of his foes 880 
 
 Messiah his triumphal chariot turn'd : 
 To meet him all his Saints, who silent stood 
 Eye witnesses of his almighty acts, 
 With jubilee $c[vanc'd ; and as they went, 
 
MILTON 87 
 
 Shaded with branching palm, each order bright, 885 
 
 Sung triumph, and him sung Victorious King,. 
 Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion giv'n, 
 Worthiest to reign : he celebrated rode 
 Triumphant through mid Heav'n, into the courts 
 And temple of his mighty Father thron'd 890 
 
 On high ; who into Glory him receiv'd, 
 Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. 
 
 Thus measuring things in Heav'n by things on earth 
 At thy request, and that thou mayst beware 
 By what is past, to thee I have reveal'd 895 
 
 What might have else to human race been hid : 
 The discord which befell, and war in Heav'n 
 Among th' Angelic Powers, and the deep fall 
 Of those too high aspiring, who rebell'd 
 With Satan, he who envies now thy state, 900 
 
 Who now is plotting how he may seduce 
 Thee also from obedience, that with him 
 Bereav'd of happiness thou mayst partake 
 His punishment, eternal misery ; 
 
 Which would be all his solace and revenge, 905 
 
 As a despite done against the most High, 
 Thee once to gain companion of his woe. 
 But list'n not to his temptations, warn 
 Thy weaker ; let it profit thee to have heard 
 By terrible example the reward 910 
 
 Of disobedience ; firm they might have stood, 
 Yet fell ; remember, and fear to transgress. 
 
88 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 V. 
 MILTON. 
 
 SAMSON BLIND. 
 
 O DARK, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 
 
 Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse 
 
 Without all hope of day ! 
 
 O first created Beam, and thou great Word : 
 
 Let there be light ; and light was over all ; 5 
 
 Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree 1 
 
 The Sun to me is dark 
 
 And silent as the Moon, 
 
 When she deserts the night 
 
 Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. 10 
 
 Since light so necessary is to life, 
 
 And almost life itself, if it be true 
 
 That light is in the Soul, 
 
 She all in every part ; why was the sight 
 
 To such a tender ball as th' eye confin'd? 15 
 
 So obvious and so easy to be quench 't, 
 
 And not as feeling through all parts diffus'd, 
 
 That she might look at will through every pore 1 
 
 Then had I not been thus exiPd from light ; 
 
 As in the land of darkness yet in light, 20 
 
 To live a life half dead, a living death, 
 
 And buried ; but yet more miserable ; 
 
 Myself, my Sepulchre, a moving grave, 
 
 Buried, yet not exempt 
 
 By privilege of death and burial 25 
 
 From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, 
 
 But made hereby obnoxious more 
 
 To all the miseries of life, 
 
 Life in captivity 
 
 Among inhuman foes. 30 
 
MILTON 89 
 
 VI. 
 MILTON. 
 
 ON SHAKESPEAR (1630). 
 
 WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones, 
 
 The labour of an age in piled stones, 
 
 Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid 
 
 Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? 
 
 Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, 5 
 
 What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? 
 
 Thou in our wonder and astonishment 
 
 Hast built thyself a live-long Monument. 
 
 For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouring art, 
 
 Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart 10 
 
 Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd book, 
 
 Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, 
 
 Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, 
 
 Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; 
 
 And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, 15 
 
 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. 
 
 VII 
 MILTON. 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 (i.) WRITTEN ON HIS DOOR WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED 
 TO THE CITY. 
 
 CAPTAIN or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, 
 
 Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 
 
 If ever deed of honour did thee please, 
 
 Guard them, and him within protect from harms, 
 
90 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 He can requite thee, for he knows the charms 
 That call Fame on such gentle acts as these, 
 And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, 
 Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 
 
 Lift not thy spear against the Muse's Bower, 
 The great JEmathian Conqueror bid spare 
 The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Tower 
 
 Went to the ground : and the repeated air 
 Of sad Electrons Poet had the power 
 To save th' Atkenim Walls from ruin bare. 
 
 (ii.) ON TETKACHOKDON. 
 
 A Book was writ of late caird Tetrachordon ; 
 And wov'n close, both matter, form and style ; 
 The subject new : it walk'd the town a while, 
 Numb'ring good intellects ; now seldom por'd on. 
 
 Cries the stall-reader, bless us ! what a word on 5 
 
 A title page is this ! and some in file 
 Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile- 
 End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon, 
 
 Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp ? 
 
 Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek 10 
 That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. 
 
 Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek, 
 Hated not Learning worse than toad or asp ; 
 When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek. 
 
 (iii.) 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, 
 Jxxlg'd with me useless, though my soul more 
 
MILTON 91 
 
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 5 
 
 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 10 
 
 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. 
 
 (iv.) ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. 
 
 Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold, 
 Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old 
 When all our Fathers worshipt stocks and stones, 
 
 Forget not : in thy book record their groans 5 
 
 Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolPd 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
 
 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
 
 To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 10 
 O'er all th' Italian fields where still doth sway 
 
 The triple Tyrant : that from these may grow 
 A hundred-fold, who having learnt thy way 
 Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 
 
 VIII. 
 ROBERT HERRICK. 
 
 (i.) THE CHEAT OF CUPID : OR, THE UNGENTLE GUEST. 
 ONE silent night of late, 
 
 When every creature rested, 
 Came one unto my gate, 
 
 And knocking, me molested. 
 
92 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Who's that (said I) beats there, 5 
 
 And troubles thus the sleepie ? 
 Cast off (said he) all feare, 
 
 And let not Locks thus keep ye. 
 
 For I a Boy am, who 
 
 By Moonlesse nights have swerved 10 
 
 And all with showrs wet through, 
 
 And e'en with cold half starved. 
 
 I pitifull arose, 
 
 And soon a Taper lighted ; 
 And did my selfe disclose 15 
 
 Unto the lad benighted. 
 
 I saw he had a Bow, 
 
 And Wings too, which did shiver. 
 And looking down below, 
 
 I spy'd he had a Quiver. 20 
 
 I to my Chimney's shine 
 
 Brought him (as Love professes) 
 And chaf'd his hands with mine, 
 
 And dry'd his dropping Tresses. 
 
 But when he felt him warm'd, 25 
 
 Let's try this bow of ours, 
 And string, if they be harm'd, 
 
 Said he, with these late showrs. 
 
 Forthwith his bow he bent, 
 
 And wedded string and arrow, 30 
 
 And struck me that it went 
 
 Quite through my heart and marrow. 
 
 Then laughing loud, he flew 
 
 Away, and thus said flying, 
 Adieu mine Host, Adieu, 35 
 
 lie leave thy heart a dying. 
 
ROBERT HERRICK 93 
 
 (ii.) DIVINATION BY A DAFFADILL. 
 When a Daffadill I see, 
 Hanging down his head t' wards me 
 Guesse I may, what I must be : 
 First, I shall decline my head ; 
 Secondly, I shall be dead ; 5 
 
 Lastly, safely buryed. 
 
 (Ui.) HIS POETRIE HIS PILLAE. 
 
 Onely a little more 
 
 I have to write 
 
 Then Tie give o're 
 And bid the world Good-night. 
 
 'Tis but a flying minute, 5 
 
 That I must stay, 
 
 Or linger in it ; 
 And then I must away. 
 
 O time that cut'st down all ! 
 
 And scarce leav'st here 10 
 
 Memoriall 
 Of any men that were. 
 
 How many lye forgot 
 
 In Vaults beneath 1 
 
 And piece-meale rot 15 
 
 Without a fame in death ? 
 
 Behold this living stone, 
 
 I reare for me, 
 
 Ne'r to be thrown 
 Downe, envious Time, by thee. 20 
 
 Pillars let some set up, 
 
 (If so they please) 
 
 Here is my hope, 
 And my Pyramided. 
 
94 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 (iv.) COMFORT TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE. 
 
 What needs complaints, 
 When she a place 
 Has with the race 
 
 Of Saints'? 
 
 In endlesse mirth, 5 
 
 She thinks not on 
 What's said or done 
 
 In earth : 
 
 She sees no teares, 
 
 Or any tone 10 
 
 Of thy deep grone 
 
 She heares : 
 Nor do's she minde, 
 Or think on't now, 
 That ever thou 15 
 
 Wast kind. 
 But chang'd above, 
 She likes not there, 
 As she did here, 
 
 Thy Love. 20 
 
 Forbeare therefore, 
 And lull asleepe v/-*. 
 Thy woes, and weep 
 
 No more. 
 
 (v.) TO PRIMROSES FILL'D WITH MORNING DEW. 
 
 Why doe ye weep, sweet Babes 1 can Tears 
 
 Speak griefe in you, 
 
 Who were but borne 
 Just as the modest Morne 
 Teem'd her refreshing dew ? 
 
ROBERT HERRICK 95 
 
 Alas, you have not known that shower, 
 That marres a flower ; 
 Nor felt th' unkind 
 Breath of a blasting wind ; 
 Nor are ye worne with yeares ; 10 
 
 Or warpt, as we, 
 Who think it strange to see, 
 Such pretty flowers, (like to Orphans young,) 
 To speak by Teares, before ye have a Tongue. 
 
 Speak, whimpering Younglings, and make known 1 5 
 The reason, why 
 Ye droop, and weep ; 
 Is it for want of sleep 1 
 Or childish Lullabie ? 
 
 Or that ye have not seen as yet 20 
 
 The Violet 1 
 Or brought a kisse 
 From that Sweet-heart, to this 1 
 No, no, this sorrow shown 
 
 By your teares shed, 25 
 
 Wo'd have this Lecture read : 
 That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, 
 Conceiv'd with grief are, and with teares brought forth. 
 
 <vi.) TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME. 
 
 Gather ye Rose-buds, while ye may, 
 
 Old Time is still a-flying : 
 And this same flower that smiles today, 
 
 To morrow will be dying. 
 
 The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, 5 
 
 The higher he's a-getting ; 
 The sooner will his Race be run, 
 
 And neerer he's to Setting. 
 
96 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 That Age is best, which is the first, 
 
 When Youth and Blood are warmer ; 10 
 
 But being spent, the worse, and worst 
 
 Times, still succeed the former. 
 
 Then be not coy, but use your time ; 
 
 And while ye may, goe marry : 
 For having lost but once your prime, 15 
 
 You may for ever tarry. 
 
 (vii.) UPON JULIA'S VOICE. 
 
 So smooth, so sweet, so silv'ry is thy voice, 
 
 As, could they hear, the Damn'd would make no noise ; 
 
 But listen to thee, (walking in thy chamber) 
 
 Melting melodious words to Lutes of Amber. 
 
 <> 
 
 (viii.) THE PILLAK OF FAME. 
 
 FAME'S pillar here, at last, we set, 
 
 Out-during Marble, Brasse, or Jet, 
 
 Charm'd and enchanted so, 
 
 As to withstand the blow, 
 
 Of overthrow, 5 
 
 Nor shall the seas, 
 Or OUTRAGES 
 Of storms orebear 
 What we up-rear: 
 
 Tho Kingdoms fal, 10 
 
 This pillar never shall 
 
 Decline or waste at all ; 
 
 But stand for ever by his owne 
 
 Firme and well-fixt foundation. 
 
 (ix.) FINIS. 
 
 To his Book's end this last line he'd have plac't, 
 
 Jocond his Muse was ; but his Life was chast. 
 
ROBERT HERRICK 97 
 
 (x.) GRACES FOR CHILDREN. 
 What God gives, and what we take, 
 Tis a gift for Christ His sake : 
 Be the meale of Beanes and Pease, 
 God be thank'd for those, and these : 
 Have we flesh, or have we fish, 5 
 
 All are Fragments from His dish. 
 He His Church save, and the King, 
 And our Peace here, like a Spring, 
 Make it ever flourishing. 
 
 (xi.) ANOTHER GRACE FOR A CHILD. 
 Here a little child I stand, 
 Heaving up my either hand ; 
 Cold as Paddocks though they be, 
 Here I lift them up to Thee, 
 For a Benizon to fall 5 
 
 On our meat, and on us all. Amen. 
 
 (xii.) HIS PRAYER FOR ABSOLUTION 
 For those my unbaptized Rhimes, 
 Writ in my wild unhallowed Times ; 
 For every sentence, clause, and word, 
 That's not inlaid with Thee, (my Lord) 
 Forgive me, God, and blot each Line 5 
 
 Out of my book that is not Thine. 
 But if, 'mongst all, Thou find'st here. one 
 Worthy thy Benediction ; 
 That One of all the rest, shall be 
 The Glory of my Work, and Me. i o 
 
 (xiii.) GOD'S ANGER WITHOUT AFFECTION. 
 God when He's angry here with any one, 
 His wrath is free from perturbation ; 
 And when we think His looks are soure and grim, 
 The alteration is in us, not Hira. 
 
 7 
 
98 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 (xiv.) A THANKSGIVING TO GOD, FOR HIS HOUSE. 
 Lord, Thou hast given me a cell 
 
 Wherein to dwell ; 
 A little house, whose humble Roof 
 
 Is weather-proof ; 
 Under the sparres of which I lie 5 
 
 Both soft, and drie ; 
 Where Thou my chamber for to ward 
 
 Hast set a Guard 
 Of harmlesse thoughts, to watch and keep 
 
 Me, while I sleep. 10 
 
 Low is my porch, as is my Fate, 
 
 Both void of state ; 
 And yet the threshold of my doore 
 
 Is worn by th' poore, 
 Who thither come and freely get 15 
 
 Good words, or meat : 
 Like as my Parlour, so my Hall 
 
 And Kitchin's small : 
 A little Butterie, and therein 
 
 A little Byn, 20 
 
 Which keeps my little loafe of Bread 
 
 Unchipt, unflead : 
 Some brittle sticks of Thome or Briar 
 
 Make me a fire, 
 Close by whose living coale I sit, 25 
 
 And glow like it. 
 Lord, I confesse too, when I dine, 
 
 The Pulse is Thine, 
 And all those other Bits, that bee 
 
 There plac'd by Thee ; 30 
 
 The Worts, the Purslain, and the Messe 
 
 Of water-cresse, 
 Which of Thy kindnesse Thou hast sent ; 
 
 And my content 
 
EGBERT HERRICK 99 
 
 Makes those and my beloved Beet, 35 
 
 To be more sweet. 
 Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering Hearth 
 
 With guiltlesse mirth ; 
 And giv'st me Wassaile Bowles to drink, 
 
 Spic'd to the brink. 40 
 
 Lord, 'tis thy plenty -dropping hand, 
 
 That soiles my land ; 
 And giv'st me, for my Bushel sowne, 
 
 Twice ten for one : 
 Thou mak'st my teeming Hen to lay 45 
 
 Her egg each day : 
 Besides my healthfull Ewes to beare 
 
 Me twins each yeare : 
 The while the conduits of my Kine 
 
 Run Creame, (for Wine.) 50 
 
 All these, and better Thou dost send 
 
 Me, to this end, 
 That I should render, for my part, 
 
 A thankful heart ; 
 Which, fir'd with incense, I resigne 55 
 
 As wholly Thine ; 
 But the acceptance, that must be, 
 
 My Christ, by Thee. 
 
 IX. 
 GEORGE WITHER. 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION. 
 
 SHALL I wasting in despair 
 Die because a woman's fair ] 
 Or make pale my cheeks with care 
 'Cause another's rosy are 1 
 
 7-2 
 
100 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Be she fairer than the day, 5 
 
 Or the flowery meads in May, 
 
 If she think not well of me, 
 
 What care I how fair she be ? 
 
 Shall my seely heart be pined 
 
 'Cause I see a woman kind? 10 
 
 Or a well-disposed nature 
 
 Joined with a lovely feature ? 
 
 Be she meeker, kinder than 
 
 Turtle-dove or pelican, 
 
 If she be not so to me, 15 
 
 What care I how kind she be ? 
 
 Shall a woman's virtues move 
 
 Me to perish for her love ? 
 
 Or her well-deservings known 
 
 Make me quite forget mine own 1 20 
 
 Be she with that goodness blest 
 
 Which may merit name of best, 
 If she be not such to me, 
 What care I how good she be ? 
 
 'Cause her fortune seems too high, 25 
 
 Shall I play the fool and die ? 
 She that bears a noble mind, 
 If not outward helps she find, 
 Thinks what with them he would do 
 That without them dares her woo ; 30 
 
 And unless that mind I see 
 What care I how great she be 1 
 
 Great, or good, or kind, or fair, 
 
 I will ne'er the more despair : 
 
 If she love me, this believe, 35 
 
 I will die, ere she shall grieve : 
 
HENRY KING 101 
 
 If she slight me when I woo 
 I can scorn and let her go, 
 
 For if she be not for me, 
 
 What care I for whom she be ? 40 
 
 X. 
 HENRY KING. 
 
 THE DIRGE. 
 
 WHAT is th' existence of man's life, 
 
 But open war, or slumber'd strife ; 
 
 Where sickness to his sense presents 
 
 The combat of the elements ; 
 
 And never feels a perfect peace 5 
 
 Till Death's cold hand signs his release t 
 
 It is a storme, where the hot blood 
 
 Outvies in rage the boiling flood ; 
 
 And each loose passion of the minde 
 
 Is like a furious gust of winde, 10 
 
 Which beats his bark with many a wave, 
 
 Till he casts anchor in the grave. 
 
 It is a flowre, which buds and grows, 
 
 And withers as the leaves disclose ; 
 
 Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep, 15 
 
 Like fits of waking before sleep ; 
 
 Then shrinks into that fatal mould 
 
 Where its first being was unroll'd. 
 
 It is a dreame, whose seeming truth 
 
 Is morahVd in age and youth ; 20 
 
 Where all the comforts he can share 
 
 As wandering as his fancies are ; 
 
 Till in a mist of dark decay, 
 
 The dreamer vanish quite away. 
 
102 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 It is a dial, which points out 25 
 
 The sunset, as it moves about ; 
 
 And shadows out in lines of night 
 
 The subtle stages of time's flight ; 
 
 Till all-obscuring earth hath laid 
 
 The body in perpetual shade. 30 
 
 It is a wearie interlude, 
 
 Which doth short joys, long woes include ; 
 
 The world the stage, the prologue tears, 
 
 The acts vain hope and varied fears ; 
 
 The scene shuts up with loss of breath, 35 
 
 And leaves no epilogue but death. 
 
 XI. 
 SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 THE INCONSTANT LOYER. 
 
 OUT upon it, I have loved 
 
 Three whole days together ! 
 And am like to love three more 
 
 If it prove fair weather. 
 
 Time shall moult away his wings 5 
 
 Ere he shall discover 
 In the whole wide world again 
 
 Such a constant lover. 
 
 But the spite on't is, no praise 
 
 Is due at all to me : 10 
 
 Love with me had made no stays, 
 
 Had it any been but she. 
 
 Had it any been but she, 
 
 And that very face, 
 There had been at least ere this 15 
 
 A dozen dozen in her place. 
 
EICHAKD LOVELACE 103 
 
 XII. 
 RICHARD LOVELACE. 
 
 (i.) TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS. 
 TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind 
 
 That from the nunnery 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, 
 
 To war and arms I fly. 
 
 True, a new mistress now I chase, 5 
 
 The first foe in the field ; . 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such 
 
 As you too shall adore ; 10 
 
 I could not love thee, Dear, so much, 
 
 Loved I not Honour more. 
 
 (ii.) TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. 
 When Love with unconfine'd wings 
 
 Hovers within my gates, 
 And my divine Althea brings 
 
 To whisper at the grates ; 
 When I lie tangled in her hair 5 
 
 And fetter'd to her eye 
 The birds that wanton in the air 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When flowing cups run swiftly round 
 
 With no allaying Thames, 10 
 
 Our careless heads with roses crown'd, 
 
 Our hearts with loyal flames ; 
 When thirsty grief in wine we steep, 
 
 When healths and draughts go free 
 Fishes that tipple in the deep 15 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
104 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 When, linnet-like confined, I 
 
 With shriller throat shall sing 
 The sweetness, mercy, majesty 
 
 And glories of my King ; 20 
 
 When I shall voice aloud how good 
 
 He is, how great should be, 
 Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 Stone walls do not a prison make, 25 
 
 NOP iron bars a cage ; 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 
 That for an hermitage : 
 If I have freedom in my love 
 
 And in my soul am free, 30 
 
 Angels alone, that soar above, 
 
 Enjoy such liberty. 
 
 XIII. 
 THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 (i.) SONG. 
 
 ASK me no more where Jove bestows, 
 When June is past, the fading rose ; 
 For in your beauty's orient deep 
 These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. 
 
 Ask me no more whither do stray 5 
 
 The golden atoms of the day ; 
 
 For in pure love heaven did prepare 
 
 Those powders to enrich your hair. 
 
 Ask me no more whither doth haste 
 
 The nightingale when May is past ; 10 
 
 For in your sweet dividing throat 
 
 She winters and keeps warm her note. 
 
THOMAS CAKEW 105 
 
 Ask me no more where those stars 'light 
 
 That downwards fall in dead of night ; 
 
 For in your eyes they sit, and there 15 
 
 Fixed become as in their sphere. 
 
 Ask me no more if east or west 
 
 The Phoenix builds her spicy nest ; 
 
 For unto you at last she flies, 
 
 And in your fragrant bosom dies. 20 
 
 (ii.) IN BLISS. 
 
 Brave spirits whose adventurous feet 
 
 Have to the mountain's top aspir'd, 
 Where fair desert and honour meet : 
 
 Here, from the toiling press retir'd, 
 Secure from all disturbing evil, 5 
 
 For ever in my temple revel. 
 With wreaths of stars circled about, 
 
 Gild all the spacious firmament. 
 And smiling on the panting rout 
 
 That labour in the steep ascent, 10 
 
 With your resistless influence guide 
 Of human change th' uncertain tide. 
 
 XIV. 
 RICHARD CRASHAW. 
 
 THE WEEPER. 
 
 HAIL, sister springs, 
 Parent of silver-footed rills ! 
 
 Ever bubbling things, 
 Thawing crystal, snowy hills ! 
 
 Still spending, never spent ; I mean 
 Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene. 
 
106 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Heavens thy fair eyes be ; 
 Heavens of ever-falling stars ; 
 
 'Tis seed-time still with thee, 
 
 And stars thou sow'st whose harvest dares 10 
 
 Promise the earth to countershine 
 Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine. 
 
 Every morn from hence 
 A brisk cherub something sips 
 
 Whose soft influence 15 
 
 Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips ; 
 Then to his music : and his song 
 Tastes of this breakfast all day long. 
 
 When some new bright guest 
 Takes up among the stars a room, 20 
 
 And Heaven will make a feast, 
 Angels with their bottles come, 
 
 And draw from these full eyes of thine 
 Their Master's water, their own wine. 
 
 The dew no more will weep 25 
 
 The primrose's pale cheek to deck ; 
 
 The dew no more will sleep 
 Nuzzled in the lily's neck : 
 
 Much rather would it tremble here, 
 
 And leave them both to be thy tear. 30 
 
 When sorrow would be seen 
 In her brightest majesty, 
 For she is a Queen 
 Then is she drest by none but thee : 
 
 Then and only then she wears 35 
 
 Her richest pearls I mean thy tears 
 
RICHARD CRASHAW 107 
 
 Not in the evening's eyes, 
 When they red with weeping are 
 
 For the Sun that dies, 
 
 Sits Sorrow with a face so fair. 40 
 
 Nowhere but here did ever meet 
 Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. 
 
 Does the night arise ? 
 Still thy tears do fall and fall. 
 
 Does night lose her eyes *? 45 
 
 Still the fountain weeps for all. 
 
 Let day and night do what they will, 
 Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still. 
 
 Not So long she lived 
 Will thy tomb report of thee ; 50 
 
 But So long she grieved : 
 Thus must we date thy memory. 
 
 Others by days, by months, by years, 
 Measure their ages, thou by tears. 
 
 Say, ye bright brothers, 55 
 
 The fugitive sons of those fair eyes, 
 
 Your fruitful mothers, 
 
 What make you here 1 What hopes can 'tice 
 You to be born ? What cause can borrow 
 You from those nests of noble sorrow ] 60 
 
 Whither away so fast 1 ? 
 For sure the sordid earth 
 
 Your sweetness cannot taste, 
 Nor does the dust deserve your birth, 
 
 Sweet, whither haste you then ? O say, 65 
 Why you trip so fast away 1 
 
108 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 We go not to seek 
 The darlings of Aurora's bed, 
 
 The rose's modest cheek, 
 
 Nor the violet's humble head. 70 
 
 No such thing : we go to meet 
 A worthier object our Lord's feet. 
 
 XV. 
 HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 DEPARTED FRIENDS. 
 
 THEY are all gone into the world of light ! 
 
 And I alone sit lingering here ! 
 Their very memory is faire and bright, 
 
 And my sad thoughts doth clear. 
 
 It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast 5 
 
 Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 
 Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest 
 
 After the Sun's remove. 
 
 I see them walking in an air of glorie, 
 
 Whose light doth trample on my days ; 10 
 
 My days, which are at best but dull and hoarie, 
 
 Mere glimmering and decays. 
 
 O holy Hope ! and high Humility ! 
 
 High as the Heavens above ; 
 These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me 
 
 To kindle my cold love. 1 6 
 
 Dear, beauteous death ; the Jewel of the Just ! 
 
 Shining nowhere but in the dark ; 
 What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, 
 
 Could man outlook that mark ! 20 
 
HENKY VAUGHAN 109 
 
 He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know 
 
 At first sight if the bird be flown ; 
 But what fair dell or grove he sings in now, 
 
 That is to him unknown. 
 
 And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams 25 
 
 Call to the soul when man doth sleepe, 
 So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, 
 
 And into glory peepe. 
 
 If a star were confin'd into a tombe, 
 
 Her captive flames must needs burn there ; 30 
 
 But when the hand that lockt her up gives roome 
 
 She'll shine through all the spheare. 
 
 O Father of eternal life, and all 
 
 Created glories under thee ! 
 Kesume thy spirit from this world of thrall 35 
 
 Into true libertie ! 
 
 Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill 
 
 My perspective still as they passe : 
 Or else remove me hence unto that hill, 
 
 Where I shall need no glasse. 40 
 
 XVI. 
 JAMES SHIRLEY. 
 
 DEATH THE LEVELLER. 
 
 THE glories of our blood and state 
 
 Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
 There is no armour against Fate ; 
 Death lays his icy hand on kings : 
 
 Sceptre and Crown 5 
 
 Must tumble down, 
 And in the dust be equal made 
 With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 
 
110 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Some men with swords may reap the field, 
 And plant fresh laurels where they kill : 
 But their strong nerves at last must yield ; 
 They tame but one another still : 
 Early or late 
 They stoop to fate, 
 
 And must give up their murmuring breath 
 When they, pale captives, creep to death. 
 
 The garlands wither on your brow ; 
 
 Then boast no more your mighty deeds ! 
 Upon Death's purple altar now 
 See where the victor-victim bleeds. 
 Your heads must come 
 To the cold tomb : 
 Only the actions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 
 
 XVII. 
 ANDREW MARVELL. 
 
 THE GARDEN. 
 
 How vainly men themselves amaze, 
 To win the palm, the oak, or bays, 
 And their incessant labours see 
 Crowned from some single herb, or tree, 
 Whose short and narrow-verged shade 
 Does prudently their toils upbraid, 
 While all the flowers, and trees, do close, 
 To weave the garlands of repose ! 
 
 Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, 
 And Innocence, thy sister dear ? 
 Mistaken long, I sought you then 
 In busy companies of men. 
 
ANDREW MARYELL 111 
 
 Your sacred plants, if here below, 
 
 Only among the plants will grow ; 
 
 Society is all but rude 15 
 
 To this delicious solitude. 
 
 Nor white nor red was ever seen 
 So amorous as this lovely green. 
 Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, 
 Cut in these trees their mistress' name : 20 
 
 Little, alas ! they know or heed, 
 How far these beauties her exceed ! 
 Fair trees ! where'er your barks I wound, 
 No name shall but your own be found. 
 
 When we have run our passion's heat, 25 
 
 Love hither makes his best retreat. 
 The gods, who mortal beauty chase, 
 Still in a tree did end their race ; 
 Apollo hunted Daphne so, 
 
 Only that she might laurel grow ; 30 
 
 And Pan did after Syrinx speed, 
 Not as a nymph, but for a reed. 
 
 What wond'rous life is this I lead ! 
 
 Ripe apples drop about my head ; 
 
 The luscious clusters of the vine 35 
 
 Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; 
 
 The nectarine and curious peach, 
 
 Into my hands themselves do reach ; 
 
 Stumbling on melons, as I pass, 
 
 Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass. 4 
 
 Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, 
 Withdraws into its happiness ; 
 The mind, that ocean where each kind 
 Does straight its own resemblance find ; 
 
112 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Yet it creates, transcending these, 45 
 
 Far other worlds, and other seas, 
 
 Annihilating all that's made, 
 
 To a green thought in a green shade. 
 
 Here at the fountain's sliding foot, 
 
 Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 50 
 
 Casting the body's vest aside, 
 
 My soul into the boughs does glide : 
 
 There, like a bird, it sits and sings, 
 
 Then whets and claps its silver wings, 
 
 And, till prepared for longer flight, 55 
 
 Waves in its plumes the various light. 
 
 Such was that happy garden state, 
 
 While man there walked without a mate : 
 
 After a place so pure and sweet, 
 
 What other help could yet be meet ! 5o 
 
 But 'twas beyond a mortal's share 
 
 To wander solitary there : 
 
 Two paradises are in one, 
 
 To live in Paradise alone. 
 
 How well the skilful gardener drew 65 
 
 Of flow'rs, and herbs., this dial new, 
 
 Where, from above, the milder sun 
 
 Does through a fragrant zodiac run, 
 
 And, as it works, the industrious bee 
 
 Computes its time as well as we ! 70 
 
 How could such sweet and wholesome hours 
 
 Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers ? 
 
BALLAD 113 
 
 XVIII. 
 BALLAD. 
 
 FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL. 
 
 I WISH I were where Helen lies, 
 Night and day on me she cries, 
 O that I were where Helen lies, 
 On fair Kirconnell Lee ! 
 
 Curst be the heart that thought the thought, 5 
 
 And curst the hand that fired the shot, 
 When in my arms burd Helen dropt, 
 And died to succour me. 
 
 think na ye my heart was sair, 
 
 When my love dropt down and spak nae mair, 10 
 
 There did she swoon wi' meikle care, 
 On fair Kirconnell Lee. 
 
 As I went down the water side, 
 None but my foe to be my guide, 
 None but my foe to be my guide, 15 
 
 On fair Kirconnell Lee. 
 
 1 lighted down, my sword did draw, 
 I hacked him in pieces sma', 
 
 I hacked him in pieces sma ; , 
 
 For her sake that died for me. 20 
 
 O Helen fair, beyond compare, 
 I'll make a garland of thy hair, 
 Shall bind my heart for evennair, 
 Untill the day I die. 
 
114 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 that I were where Helen lies, 25 
 
 Night and day on me she cries, 
 Out of my bed she bids me rise, 
 Says, " Haste, and come to me !" 
 
 Helen fair ! Helen chaste ! 
 
 If I were with thee I were blest, 30 
 
 Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest 
 On fair Kirconnell Lee. 
 
 1 wish my grave were growing green, 
 A winding-sheet drawn ower my e'en 
 
 And I in Helen's arms lying 35 
 
 On fair Kirconnell Lee. 
 
 I wish I were where Helen lies, 
 Night and day on me she cries, 
 And I am weary of the skies, 
 
 For her sake that died for me. 40 
 
 XIX. 
 IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 THE COMPLEAT ANGLER. 
 PISCATOR, VENATOR, PETER, CORIDON. 
 
 PlSCATOR. My purpose was to give you some directions 
 concerning ROACH and DACE, and some other inferior 
 fish which make the angler excellent sport. For you 
 know there is more pleasure in hunting the hare than 
 in eating her : but I will forbear, at this time, to say 
 
IZAAK WALTON hs 
 
 any more, because, you see, yonder come our brother 
 Peter and honest Coridon. But I will promise you, that 
 as you and I fish and walk to-morrow towards London, 
 if I have now forgotten anything that I can then remem- 
 ber, I will not keep it from you. 10 
 
 Well met, gentlemen ; this is lucky that we meet so, 
 just together at this very door. Come, hostess, where 
 are you ? is supper ready ? Come, first give us a drink ; 
 and be as quick as you can, for I believe we are all 
 very hungry. Well, brother Peter and Coridon, to you 15 
 both ! Come, drink : and then tell me what luck of fish. 
 We two have caught but ten trouts, of which my scholar 
 caught three. Look ! here's eight ; and a brace we gave 
 away. We have had a most pleasant day for fishing 
 and talking, and are returned home both weary and 20 
 hungry ; and now meat and rest will be pleasant. 
 
 PETER. And Coridon and I have not had an un- 
 pleasant day : and yet I have caught but five trouts ; 
 for, indeed, we went to a good honest ale-house, and 
 there we played at shovel-board half the day. All the 25 
 time that it rained we were there, and as merry as 
 they that fished. And I am glad we are now with a dry 
 house over our heads ; for, hark ! how it rains and blows. 
 Come, hostess, give us more ale, and our supper with 
 what haste you may : and when we have supped, let us 30 
 have your song, Piscator; and the catch that your 
 scholar promised us, or else, Coridon will be dogged. 
 
 PISCATOR. Nay, I will not be worse than my word; 
 you shall not want my song, and I hope "I shall be perfect 
 in it. 35 
 
 VENATOR. And I hope the like for my catch, which I 
 have ready too : and therefore let's go merrily to supper, 
 and then have a gentle touch at singing and drinking; 
 but the last with moderation. 
 
 CORIDON. Come, now for your song ; for we have 40 
 
 82 
 
116 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 fed heartily. Come, hostess, lay a few more sticks OP 
 the fire. And now, sing when you will. 
 
 PISCATOR. Well then, here's to you, Coridon ; and now 
 for my song. 
 
 the gallant Fisher's life, 45 
 
 It is the best of any ; 
 Tis full of pleasure, void of strife, 
 And 'tis beloved of many : 
 
 Other joys 
 
 Are but toys ; 50 
 
 Only this 
 
 Lawful is ; 
 
 For our skill 
 
 Breeds no ill, 
 But content and pleasure. 55 
 
 In a morning up we rise, 
 Ere Aurora's peeping ; 
 Drink a cup to wash our eyes ; 
 Leave the sluggard sleeping : 
 
 Then we go 60 
 
 To and fro, 
 
 With our knacks 
 
 At our backs, 
 
 To such streams 
 
 As the Thames, 65 
 
 If we have the leisure. 
 
 When we please to walk abroad 
 
 For our recreation, 
 In the fields is our abode, 
 Full of delectation : 70 
 
 Where in a brook 
 
 : With a hook, 
 
 Or a lake, 
 Fish we take : 
 
 There we sit, 75 
 
 For a bit, 
 Till we fish entangle. 
 
 We have gentles in a horn, 
 
 We have paste and worms too ; 
 We can watch both night and morn, 80 
 
 Suffer rain and storms too ; 
 
 None do here 
 
 Use to swear ; 
 
 Oaths do fray 
 
 Fish away ; 85 
 
 We sit still, 
 
 And watch our quill ; 
 Fishers must not wrangle. 
 
IZAAK WALTON 117 
 
 f If the sun's excessive heat 
 
 Make our bodies swelter, 90 
 
 To an osier hedge we get 
 For a friendly shelter ; 
 Where, in a dike, 
 Perch or Pike, 
 
 Roach or Dace, 95 
 
 We do chase ; 
 Bleak or Gudgeon, 
 Without grudging ; 
 We are still contented. 
 
 Or we sometimes pass an hour 100 
 
 Under a green willow, 
 That defends us from a shower, 
 Making earth our pillow ; 
 Where we may 
 Think and pray 105 
 
 Stops our breath. 
 Other joys 
 Are but toys, 
 And to be lamented. 
 
 Io. CHALKHILL. 
 
 VENATOR. Well sung, master ; this day's fortune and 
 pleasure, and the night's company and song, do all make 
 me more and more in love with angling. Gentlemen, 
 my master left me alone for an hour this day; and I 
 verily believe he retired himself from talking with me 115 
 that he might be so perfect in this song. Was it not, 
 master 1 
 
 PISCATOR. Yes indeed, for it is many years since I 
 learned it ; and having forgotten a part of it, I was forced 
 to patch it up with the help of mine own invention, who 120 
 am not excellent at poetry, as my part of the song may 
 testify ; but of that I will say no more, lest you should 
 think I mean, by discommending it, to beg your com- 
 mendations of it. And therefore, without replications, 
 let's hear your catch, scholar; which I hope will be a 125 
 good one, for you are both musical and have a good fancy 
 to boot, 
 
118 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 VENATOR. Marry, and that you shall ; and as freely 
 as I would have my honest master tell me some more 
 secrets of fish and fishing, as we walk and fish towards 130 
 London to-morrow. But, master, first let me tell you, 
 that very hour which you were absent from me, I sat 
 down under a willow tree by the water-side, and con- 
 sidered what you had told me of the owner of that 
 pleasant meadow in which you then left me ; that he had 135 
 a plentiful estate, and not a heart to think so ; that he 
 had at this time many law-suits depending; and that 
 they both damped his mirth, and took up so much of his 
 time and thoughts, that he himself had not leisure to take 
 the sweet content that I, who pretended no title to them, 140 
 took in his fields. For I could there sit quietly ; and 
 looking on the water, see some fishes sport themselves 
 in the silver streams, others leaping at flies of several 
 shapes and colours ; looking on the hills, I could behold 
 them spotted with woods and groves; looking down the 145 
 meadows, could see, here a boy gathering lilies and lady- 
 smocks, and there a girl cropping culverkeys and cow- 
 slips, all to make garlands suitable to this present month 
 of May. These, and many other field flowers, so per- 
 fumed the air, that I thought that very meadow like 150 
 that field in Sicily of which Diodorus speaks, where 
 the perfumes arising from the place make all dogs that 
 hunt in it to fall off, and to lose their hottest scent. I 
 say, as I thus sat, joying in my own happy condition, 
 and pitying this poor rich man that owned this and many 155 
 other pleasant groves and meadows about me, I did 
 thankfully remember what my Saviour said, that the 
 meek possess the earth ; or rather, they enjoy what the * 
 others possess and enjoy not; for anglers and meek 
 quiet-spirited men are free from those high, those rest- 160 
 less thoughts, which corrode the sweets of life; and they, 
 and they only, can say, as the poet has happily exprest it 
 
IZAAK WALTON 119 
 
 Hail ! blest estate of lowliness ; 
 
 Happy enjoyments of such minds 
 As, rich in self-contentedness, 165 
 
 Can, like the reeds, in roughest winds, 
 By yielding make that blow but small 
 At which proud oaks and cedars fall. 
 
 There came also into my mind at that time, certain 
 verses in praise of a mean estate and humble mind: 170 
 they were written by Phineas Fletcher, an excellent 
 divine, and an excellent angler; and the author of 
 excellent Piscatory Eckgues, in which you shall see the 
 picture of this good man's mind : and I wish mine to 
 be like it. 175 
 
 No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright ; 
 No begging wants his middle fortune bite : 
 But sweet content exiles both misery and spite. 
 
 His certain life, that never can deceive him, 
 
 Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content ; 180 
 
 The smooth-leav'd beeches in the field receive him, 
 With coolest shade, till noon-tide's heat be spent. 
 
 His life is neither tost in boisterous seas, 
 
 Or the vexatious world, or lost in slothful ease ; 
 Pleas'd and full blest he lives, when he his God can please. 185 
 
 His bed, more safe than soft, yields quiet sleeps, 
 While by his side his faithful spouse has place ; 
 
 His little son into his bosom creeps, 
 The lively picture of his father's face. 
 
 His humble house or poor state ne'er torment him ; 190 
 
 Less he could like, if less his God had lent him ; 
 And when he dies, green turfs do for a tomb content him. 
 
 Gentlemen, these were a part of the thoughts that 
 then possessed me. And I there made a conversion of 
 a piece of an old catch, and added more to it, fitting 195 
 them to be sung by us anglers. Come, Master, you can 
 sing well : you must sing a part of it, as it is in this 
 paper : 
 
 Man's life is but vain ; for 'tis subject to pain, 
 And sorrow, and short as a bubble ; 200 
 
 "Pis a hodge-podge of business, and money, and care, 
 And care, and money, and trouble, 
 
120 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 But we'll take no care when the weather proves fair ; 
 
 Nor will we vex now though it rain ; 
 We'll banish all sorrow, and sing till to-morrow, 205 
 
 And angle, and angle again. 
 
 PETER. I marry, Sir, this is music indeed; this has 
 cheer'd my heart, and made me remember six verses in 
 praise of music, which I will speak to you instantly. 
 
 Music ! miraculous rhetoric, thou speak'st sense 210 
 
 Without a tongue, excelling eloquence ; 
 
 With what ease might thy errors be excus'd, 
 
 Wert thou as truly lov'd as th' art abus'd ! 
 
 But though dull souls neglect, and some reprove thee, 
 
 I cannot hate thee, 'cause the Angels love thee. 215 
 
 VENATOR. And the repetition of these last verses of 
 music has called to my memory what Mr. Edmund 
 Waller, a lover of the angle, says of love and music. 
 
 Whilst I listen to thy voice, 
 Chloris ! I feel my heart decay ; 220 
 
 That powerful voice 
 
 Calls my fleeting soul away : 
 Oh ! suppress that magic sound, 
 Which destroys without a wound. 
 
 Peace, Chloris ! peace, or singing die, 225 
 
 That together you and I 
 To heaven may go ; 
 For all we know 
 Of what the blessed do above, 
 Is, that they sing, and that they love. 230 
 
 PISCATOR. Well remembered, brother Peter! These 
 verses came seasonably, and we thank you heartily. 
 Come, we will all join together, my host and all, and 
 sing my scholar's catch over again ; and then each man 
 drink the t'other cup, and to bed ; and thank God we 235 
 have a dry house over our heads. 
 
 PISCATOR. Well, now good-night to everybody. 
 
 PETER. And so say I. 
 
 VENATOR. And so say I. 
 
 Good-night to you all ; and I thank you. 240 
 
BALLAD 121 
 
 THE FIFTH DAY. 
 
 PlSGATOR. Good-morrow, brother Peter, and the like 
 to you, honest Coridon. 
 
 Come, my hostess says there is seven shillings to pay : 
 let's each man drink a pot for his morning's draught, and 
 lay down his two shillings, so that my hostess may not 245 
 have occasion to repent herself of being so diligent, and 
 using us so kindly. 
 
 PETER. The motion is liked by everybody, and so, 
 hostess, here's your money : we anglers are all beholden 
 to you ; it will not be long ere I'll see you again. And 250 
 now, brother Piscator, I wish you, and my brother your 
 scholar, a fair day and good fortune. Come, Coridon, 
 this is our way. 
 
 XX. 
 BALLAD. 
 
 THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON. 
 
 THERE was a youth, and a well-belov'd youth, 
 
 And he was a squire's son, 
 He loved the bailiff's daughter dear, 
 
 That lived in Islington. 
 
 She was coy, and she would not believe 5 
 
 That he did love her so, 
 No, nor at any time she would 
 
 Any countenance to him show. 
 
 But when his friends did understand 
 
 His fond and foolish mind, 10 
 
 They sent him up to fair London, 
 
 An apprentice for to bind, 
 
122 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 And when he had been seven long years, 
 
 And his love he had not seen, 
 " Many a tear have I shed for her sake 15 
 
 When she little thought of me." 
 
 All the maids of Islington 
 
 Went forth to sport and play ; 
 All but the bailiff's daughter dear : 
 
 She silently stole away. 20 
 
 She put off her gown of gray 
 
 And put on her puggish attire ; 
 She's up to fair London gone, 
 
 Her true-love to require. 
 
 As she went along the road, 25 
 
 The weather being hot and dry, 
 There was she aware of her true-love, 
 
 At length came riding by. 
 
 She stept to him, as red as any rose, 
 
 And took him by the bridle-ring : 30 
 
 " I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny, 
 
 To ease my weary limb." 
 
 " I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me 
 
 Where that thou wast born ?" 
 " At Islington, kind sir," said she, 35 
 
 " Where I have had many a scorn." 
 
 " I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me 
 
 Whether thou dost know 
 The bailiff's daughter of Islington 1" 
 
 " She's dead, sir, long ago." 40 
 
 " Then I will sell my goodly steed, 
 
 My saddle and my bow ; 
 I will into some far country, 
 
 Where no man doth me kngw," 
 
BALLAD 123 
 
 " O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth ! 45 
 
 She's alive, she is not dead ; 
 Here she standeth by thy side, 
 
 And is ready to be thy bride." 
 
 " O farewell grief and welcome joy, 
 
 Ten thousand times and more ! 50 
 
 For now I have seen my own true love, 
 
 That I thought I should have seen no more.' 
 
NOTES 
 
 I.-SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 (i.) RELIGIO MEDICI. 
 
 FOR general information about the author, see the Introduction. 
 
 Fully to appreciate the flowing melody of the style, this work should be 
 read aloud. 
 
 3. icandal of my Profession. There was a saying about doctors 
 
 Vbi tres medici duo athei. 
 
 38. the Person by whom. Some say Luther is meant. 
 44. Resolutions means people of resolve, as in such phrases as 'choice 
 
 spirits/ 'wits,* and 'great minds.' The 'desperate resolutions' 
 
 are the Roman Catholics. This is a favourite usage with our 
 
 author. Cf. ' zeals ' below. And the phrase ' shake hands with ' 
 
 means 'say good-bye to.' 
 50. Improperations, taunts and insults. The word is t*ken from the 
 
 Latin of the Vulgate (or Latin version of the New Testament). 
 63. resolved = free. From the Latin. 
 
 74. sensible, visible, perceptible, its more proper passive sense. 
 84. Ave-Mary bell, what we call the Angelus. It rings at six and twelve 
 
 o'clock, summoning good Catholics to prayer, which is commonly 
 
 the prayer ' Hail Mary, ' the salutation of the Angel at the 
 
 Annunciation. 
 
 84. elevation, presumably metaphorical, an elevation of soul. 
 94. African Churches such as the Coptic Church of Egypt or the 
 
 Church of Abyssinia. 
 115. to difference myself nearer, to define my views more closely. 
 
 126. Luther. It was in 1517 that Martin Luther nailed his Protestant 
 
 Propositions to the door of the church at Wittenberg. 
 
 127. Calvin (1509-1564) was the great reformer of Geneva whose doctrines 
 
 had so wide an effect in Scotland. His chief points were the 
 assertion of predestination and original sin. 
 
 128. Council of Trent (1545-1563) was the answer of Rome to Luther. It 
 
 formulated the doctrines of Roman Catholicism as they are now 
 asserted. Trent is in Austria. 
 
 129. Synod of Dort, or Dordrecht in Holland, was helc in 1619. The 
 
 assembled Protestant divines proclaimed their adherence to the 
 teaching of Calvin. 
 
 125 
 
126 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 139. State of Venice. In 1606 the republic of Venice, having quarrelled 
 with Pope Paul V., threatened to secede. 
 
 149. Satyrs, he means 'satires.' The two words are quite distinct in 
 origin. Satire (probably from Lat. lanx satura, a hodge-podge or 
 mixed stew) was a form of literature developed by Horace and 
 Juvenal into that severe style of criticism which we call by the 
 tame. A satyr is a creature of mythology, half man, half goat, 
 and the name enters into the history of literature only because 
 the Greeks had a form of drama called ' satyric, ' because it dealt 
 with these monsters as the servants of Bacchus. 
 
 179. CEdipus, the hero of the tragedies of Sophocles, is here introduced as 
 the man who solved the riddle of the Sphinx ; it means, therefore, 
 ' solver of problems. ' 
 
 184. Paradoxical. A paradox is that which is true in spite of appearances. 
 
 A typical paradox of the Stoic philosophy is that ' only the 
 philosopher is king.' 
 
 185. implicite has a meaning here very different from our use of 'implicit 
 
 faith.' It means rather ' complicated,' as does the Lat. implicite. 
 188. epicycle is a small wheel having its centre on the circumference of a 
 
 greater, meaning that he lets his own thoughts revolve with the 
 
 motion of the Church. 
 208. impregnant, full of life. 
 216. this is the ordinary . . . way. His argument is that the providence 
 
 of God works through nature, and not contrary to nature's laws. 
 
 219. not Propnesie but Prognostication, requires no inspiration, but may 
 
 be inferred from visible signs. St. John prophesies the end of the 
 world by revelation ; the scientist prognosticates it by deduction 
 and argument. 
 
 220. Meanders and Labyrinths, crooked and obscure ways. Maeander 
 
 was a river of Asia Minor famous for its windings. Labyrinth 
 was the maze constructed by King Minos of Crete to house the 
 Minotaur. The origin of the legend has recently been discovered 
 by Mr. A. Evans in Crete, where he has laid bare the intricate 
 ground-plan of an ancient palace. 
 
 221. ephemerides, journals or chronicles, an ancient Greek word nsed by 
 
 the modern Greeks for a newspaper. The word was used especially 
 for the astrologer's daily chart of the heavens, by which his 
 prognostications were made. 
 
 224. Essences, beings, creatures. 
 
 230. Bezo las Manos (Spanish), ' I kiss the hands 'i.e., a salute. It is 
 explained by the succeeding phrase, for ' Gramercy ' (grand merci) 
 means ' Many thanks.' 
 
 237. rubs, a metaphor from the game of bowls, very common in Eliza- 
 bethan writers e.g., Hamlet's 'Ay, there's the rub.' A 'rub' 
 was made when one ball struck another and so was diverted from 
 its course. Metaphorically it means 'obstacle.' Possibly the 
 words 'doublings and 'wrenches' are metaphors of the same 
 kind. 
 
 240 Fougade alludes to the famous Gunpowder Plot of 1605, then fresh 
 in people's memory. The story of Lord Monteagle's anonymous 
 letter is well known. The letter did miscarry, in a sense, for it 
 was not intended to reach the King. 
 
NOTES 127 
 
 242. Victory of '88 is, of course, the defeat of the Spanish Armada. 
 256. the Grand Seignour, or the Grand Turk, is the Emperor of Turkey. 
 268. Zenith, the top-most point, originally the vertical centre of the sky ; 
 
 as ' meridian ' below (1. 277). 
 271. Helix (Greek) is a spiral. 
 
 298. the eighth Climate. The climates (/cXi/iara) were spaces of latitude 
 
 marked off on the earth's surface ; our modern sense arose from 
 this. 
 
 299. constellated, adopted by the stars that ruled his birth. 
 315. Hydra, the many-headed snake killed by Hercules. 
 
 326. Doradoes. The dorado is a fish, possibly the gold-fish. By 'ignorant 
 Doradoes ' he means ' gilded fools.' 
 
 332. preheminence. There is no justification for the insertion of this h. 
 
 333. byas is another bowling metaphor. 
 
 (ii.) URN-BURIAL. 
 
 The thought of death and burial has led our author to the vanity of 
 ambition. Here he is discoursing upon the capricious bestowal of fame 
 and glory. 
 
 4. had not been. This substitution of the more vivid pluperfect in- 
 
 dicative for the pluperfect subjunctive ' would have been ' is a 
 Latinism. 
 
 5. iniquity, unfairness ; another Latinism. 
 
 6. her poppy. The poppy, from its connection with opium, means 
 
 * forgetfulness.' 
 
 7. without distinction to merit of perpetuity, without regard to the 
 
 amount of fame that they have deserved. 
 
 8. the founder of the Pyramids. Research has, however, made known 
 
 to us the name of Cheops and his works. 
 
 8. Herostratus was a foolish Ephesian who set fire to the Temple of 
 Diana, the largest building in the world, in order to gain renown. 
 The temple was several times rebuilt, and we may say that the 
 original builder's name is quite lost. 
 
 10. Adrian's horse. Time has apparently already redressed the balance 
 between Hadrian and his horse, for the epitaph of the horse is un- 
 known to-day, while the address of Hadrian to his soul beginning 
 Animula, vagula, blandula is one of the best-known things in 
 later Latin. Dio Cassius tells us only this (LXIX. 10) : ' Borys- 
 thenes, his horse, which he loved above all creatures, is a testimony 
 to his love of animals. For when it died he actually built a tomb 
 for it, and set up a gravestone, and wrote an epitaph upon it.' 
 What that epitaph was is unknown to the editors, and the present 
 editor has been unable to discover it. The works of Ausonius 
 contain an epitaph to the horse of a later Emperor. Hadrian was 
 Emperor of Rome from 117 to 138 A.D., and, if not hia epitaph, 
 his tomb certainly survives, for it is the ' Castle of St. Angelo ' 
 which forms such a conspicuous figure in modern Rome. 
 
 13. Ther sites was an ugly, peevish, and altogether disagreeable member 
 of the Greek army at Troy. He is the only commoner named by 
 Homer, and ia soundly buffeted by the Princes when he dares to 
 
128 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 criticise them. King Agamemnon was the leader of the 
 
 army. 
 
 21. hired probably means bribed. Immortality cannot be bought. 
 24. twenty-seven names ; reckoning all the names that appear in the 
 
 first five chapters of Genesis up to the Flood. The concluding part 
 
 of this sentence means, I take it, that the whole number of recorded 
 
 names ever since the Flood does not equal the number of people 
 
 who live in one century. 
 28. equinox. Stripped of the metaphor, he means that the years past 
 
 exceed the years to come in number, and who can tell when was the 
 
 central point in the whole space of Time ? 
 
 30. Lucina was the Latin goddess of child-birth. Death is the gate of 
 
 Life Morsjanua vitce. 
 
 31. Pagans could doubt ; referring to the famous paradox of Euripides, 
 
 ' Who knows if death be life ?' 
 
 32. right descensions, an astronomical phrase. 
 
 33. makes but winter arches. The course of the sun is naturally a lower 
 
 arc in the winter than in the summer. So our author speaks of our 
 
 brief portion of life as a winter's day. 
 35. the brother of Death is Sleep. Vergil, ^Eneid, VI. 278 : Leti con- 
 
 sanguineus Sopor. Vergil borrows this brilliant phrase from 
 
 Homer, Iliad, XIV. 231. 
 37. diuturnity, length of days. 
 
 44. To weep into stones are fables, such as the story of Niobe, who 
 
 turned into a rock through weeping for her slain children. The 
 grammar of are is astonishing. 
 
 45. induce callosities, make a person callous. A callosity is one of Sir T. 
 
 Browne's professional words ; it means a hardening of the skin. 
 
 53. transmigration, or the doctrine of metempsychosis, was the belief 
 that after this life the soul passes into another body, possibly of an 
 animal or a vegetable, according to its character. Pythagoras taught 
 this doctrine ; it is also held by the Buddhists. 
 
 60. common being. This notion of a world-spirit or ' public soul ' which 
 infuses itself into all things, and to which all souls return, is that of 
 Plato in his Timceus and of Pythagoras also. The student will 
 probably be acquainted with the passage in Vergil's Sixth ^Eneid, 
 where he gives fine expression to this belief Mens agitat molem, 
 etc. 
 
 64 sweet consistencies, the spicy substances of the embalmer. 
 
 66. Cambyses, King of the Medes, defeated and conquered Egypt. 
 
 68. Mizraim. ' Mummies ' appear in the Pharmacopeia, or list of medicines, 
 of that date. * Mizraim ' is in the Hebrew a dual form, meaning 
 Upper and Lower Egypt. Our author uses it as if it were a title 
 of tne Pharaohs. 
 
 II. GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 For all that need be known concerning the quiet life of this holy man, 
 see the Introduction. He is a good example of a very common phenomenon 
 in this book, the Elizabethan love-poet transformed into a poet of religion. 
 His passion, his conceits, are those of the Elizabethan amourist. A 
 
NOTES 129 
 
 noticeable feature of him and his fellows is a love of curious titles. His 
 book is called The Temple, and the title of this poem is far-fetched 
 The desire for Rest is the pulley that is to draw man to God. 
 
 THE PULLEY. 
 
 5. a spanne, the space of a hand's breadth. 
 
 16. the rest. The occurrence of this word in the sense of ' the remainder' 
 in a poem which has for its central word ' Rest ' in the sense of 
 quiet is a characteristic blemish. I do not believe that it was 
 unintentional, but that it was intended, as a conceit, to echo with 
 ' restlessness ' in the next line. 
 
 III.-COMUS. 
 
 In the Introduction we have already discussed the place of this poem 
 among Milton's works. We may add that the poet was twenty-five years 
 old at the time of its composition, and that it belongs to his period of 
 retired contemplation at his father's country house. The persons of the 
 masque are thus given : 
 
 THE ATTENDANT SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of THYRSIS. 
 
 COMUS, with his Crew. 
 
 THE LADY .... The Lady Alice Egerton. 
 FIRST BROTHER . . . The Lord Brackley. 
 SECOND BROTHER . . Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother. 
 SABRINA, the Nymph. 
 
 The principal actors here mentioned were the three children of the Earl 
 of Bridge water, and the plot of the masque was suggested to the poet by the 
 fact that they had recently, when on a visit to some friends in Herefordshire, 
 been benighted in Hay wood Forest, and the Lady Alice for some time lost. 
 The music was composed by Henry Lawes, a Vicar-Choral of Salisbury 
 Cathedral, then Master of Music to the Earl of Bridgewater. Milton has 
 a fine sonnet to him. He is said to have taken the part of the Spirit and 
 Thyrsis in this performance. 
 
 The masque is only in form a drama. It was not performed by actors 
 in a theatre, and it is, therefore, absurd to complain that there is a want 
 of dramatic power in the plot or characterization. The requirements of a 
 masque are : Firstly, fine rhetoric for declamation ; secondly, complimen- 
 tary allusions to the persons honoured ; and, thirdly, scope for music and 
 scenic display. All these conditions are admirably fulfilled. Milton has, 
 in addition, impressed the conventional masque with his own powerful 
 character, and has turned what might have been a mere show into a 
 majestic plea for the virtues of temperance and chastity. 
 
 7. pester'd, from Fr. empetrer, to picket or hobble a horse, shackled, pin- 
 fold, originally pound-fold, a fold where stray cattle were impounded. 
 
 16. ambrosial weeds, the immortal garb of a spirit. Ambrosia is in 
 Homer the food of the gods, and the meaning of the word is 
 * immortal/ 
 
 20. high and nether Jove. According to Greek mythology, after the 
 deposition of Cronos, Zeus (here called ' high Jove ') took possession 
 of the sky, Poseidon, or Neptune, ruled the sea, and Pluto ( ' nether 
 
 9 
 
130 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 Jove ') the lower world of the dead, nether, as in ' the nether 
 mill-stone ' and ' the Netherlands,' means ' lower.' 
 
 25. by course = in turns. 
 
 31. Peer, the Earl of Bridgewater, President of Wales, mickle, ' much ' or 
 1 great,' still used in Scotland, as in the proverb 4 Many a muckle 
 makes a mickle ' ; and in Shakespeare we have it : ' mickle is the 
 powerful grace that lies In herbs, and stones, and their true 
 properties ' (Romeo and Juliet). 
 
 46. Milton is here adding, in Professor Masson's words, * a brand-new god, 
 no less, to the classic Pantheon.' Comus is a GUeek word meaning 
 * revelry.' Ben Jonson had used the name as synonymous with 
 'gluttony,' as in Dekker and Massinger. Milton makes him the 
 offspring of Bacchus, representing sensual pleasure, and Circe, 
 representing enchantment. 
 
 48. Tuscan mariners. Certain Etrurian or Tyrrhenian pirates with whom 
 
 the god was sailing plotted to capture him and sell him as a slave. 
 Bacchus turned them into dolphins. 
 
 49. Tyrrhene is the same as Tuscan, listed = chose. 
 
 50. Circe (two syllables) is the Enchantress of Homer's Odyssey, who 
 
 turned the crew of Odysseus into swine. 
 
 59. frolic, as Ger. frohlich = happy, is here an adjective, its earlier use. 
 
 60. Celtic and Iberian i.e., through France and Spain. 
 66. the drouth of Phoebus, the thirst caused by the sun. 
 71. ounce, a leopard ; L&t. 9 felis uncia. 
 
 83. Iris' woof. Iris was the goddess of the rainbow, the messenger of the 
 
 Greek gods, woof, the noun of the verb * weave,' means ' fabric.' 
 
 84. swain, rustic, shepherd. The lines that follow compliment the 
 
 composer, Henry Lawes, who took this part. 
 
 93. Star, the evening star, Hesperus, whose rising is the signal for the 
 shepherds to drive their sheep to the fold. This glorious song is 
 now known to us in the fine setting of Dr. Arne. 
 
 96. The golden chariot of the sun quenches the heat of its axles in the 
 high waves of the Atlantic. The mythological astronomy of this 
 is purely classical. 
 98. slope sun. ' Slope ' is here an adjective ; the rays of the sun, which 
 
 has sunk behind the sea, are oblique. 
 110. saws, ' wise saws,' maxims and proverbial philosophy. 
 116. Morrice, the Morris-dance, a favourite rustic dance in quaint 
 costume. The word is properly * Moorish/ the dance having been 
 introduced, like most dances, from Spain. 
 
 121. wakes, watchings, all-night merry-makings, origin-ally religious in 
 character. The Irish 'wake,' often of a very jovial nature, is the 
 watching at the bed of a corpse. 
 125. rights, a confusion with ' rites,' from Lat. ritus. 
 127. dun = dark. 
 129. Cotytto, originally a Thracian goddess, was associated in Greece with 
 
 wild licentiousness of worship. 
 132. spets, spits. 
 
 134. chair, is here = car. 
 
 135. Hecat, a mysterious Greek goddess of night and witch-craft. Shake- 
 
 speare introduces her in the Witch Scene of Macbeth, and also 
 pronounces her name as a dissyllable. 
 
NOTES 131 
 
 139, nice morn here means ' fastidious.' The history of the word is curious. 
 (1) Lat. nescius, ignorant; (2) fastidious; (3) dainty; (4) pleasant 
 or good. Indian steep, on the mountains of the East. 
 
 144. light fantastic round ; the phrase, of course, reminds us of ' the light 
 fantastic toe ' in L* Allegro. There are many similarities between 
 these two poems, which were probably composed at proximate dates. 
 
 147. shrouds, coverts, brakes = bushes. 
 
 153. The actor at this point produces a scenic effect with some sort of fire- 
 works or burning perfumes. 
 
 155. blear, as in ' blear-eyed/ the same word as ' blur/ Here an adjective. 
 
 169. There are two readings here. Beside that in the text, which is 
 preferred by Mr. Beeching, the Errata to the 1673 edition reads, and 
 Professor Masson adopts : ' And hearken, if I may her business hear.' 
 
 174. hinds, rustics. 
 
 177. thank the gods amiss. Here the Puritan in Milton rebukes the rustic 
 merriment of the harvest-home. All such pleasures and ceremonies 
 of country life were destroyed for ever by the Puritans, and the 
 name ' Merrie England ' became once and for all inappropriate. 
 
 179. wassailers, from the Anglo-Saxon greeting of ' Waes hael,' 'Good 
 
 health to you.' At Christmas the wassail-bowl was carried by 
 revellers with songs and dances from house to house. This custom 
 also was killed by the Puritans. 
 
 180. inform means to guide ; Lat. informare, to instruct. 
 187. This account does not quite agree with that in 1. 282. 
 
 189. in palmer's weed, in the dress of a pilgrim. A votarist is a person 
 under a vow. 
 
 212. siding, standing at one's side to assist. 
 
 230. Echo is here the 'genius of sound.' She lives in a shell because of 
 the resonant quality of shells. She loved Narcissus, according 
 to Ovid, because Narcissus represents the quality of ' reflexion ' 
 in sights, as she in sounds. Narcissus fell in love with his own 
 image in a pool, and so was drowned. The mention of the river 
 Meander, a river of Asia Minor, which from its sinuous course has 
 given a word to our language, is not so easily explained. Probably 
 the turns and twists of the river are considered appropriate to the 
 echoing of sound. 
 
 241. Queen of Parley ; parley (Fr. parler) is here simply ' speech.' 
 Daughter of the Sphere ; this refers (as do the phrases ' starry 
 quire' in 1. 112, and 'sphery chime ' in 1. 1021) to an ancient 
 belief that the planets in their revolutions emitted various notes, 
 and together formed a harmony inaudible to the mortal ears of 
 mankind. The idea was originally due to the ancient Greek 
 philosopher Pythagoras, and the allusions to ' the music of the 
 spheres ' are very numerous throughout literature (see especially 
 Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act V., Scene 1, 1. 64). 
 
 253, 254. The Sirens were sea-nymphs who lured sailors to destruction by 
 their song. Naiades are nymphs of river and spring. A kirtle is 
 a skirt. 
 
 257. lap it in Elysium, enfold it in heaven. Scylla and Charybdis, like 
 Circe and the Sirens, represent some of the perils which beset 
 Ulysses in the Odyssey of Homer. Scylla was a female monster 
 surrounded with barking dogs, doubtless personifying a rock with 
 
 92 
 
132 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 white breakers ; Charybdis was a whirlpool. They both guarded 
 a dangerous passage, said to be the Straits of Messina between 
 Italy and Sicily, which is, as a matter of fact, a broad passage 
 between two perfectly safe sandy beaches. 
 
 262. home-felt, means * heart-felt,' as in such expressions as 'it struck 
 home,' a ' home thrust,' ' to bring a thing home to a person.' 
 
 268. Pan, or Silvan. Pan was the Arcadian god of shepherds, Silvanus 
 the deity of woods. 
 
 271. ill is lost, ' it is badly lost,' or (as Masson) ' there is little loss in 
 losing. ' 
 
 277. This dialogue, consisting of complete single lines, is directly modelled 
 on a usage of Greek drama. It is called Stichomuthia, and is 
 frequently used to elicit a narrative. It is alien to the spirit of 
 our language, and always sounds a little strange. Matthew Arnold 
 is the only English poet who has used it to any extent, though it 
 is found in the Elizabethan dramatists. The whole passage here 
 reads like a literal translation from Sophocles. 
 
 286. ' How easy it seems to guess my trouble !' 
 
 290. Hebe was the cup-bearer of the Homeric gods ; her name means 
 * Youthful prime.' 
 
 293. Bwink't ; to ' swink ' is to labour ; a common word in Chaucer and his 
 
 period. 
 
 294. mantling, spreading ; the word properly means to cover, and is 
 
 especially applied to a blush. 
 
 297. port, bearing. 
 
 299. element, here means ' air.' 
 
 301. plighted clouds, united, compact. 
 
 313. bosky and bushy are originally the same word. 
 
 315. stray attendance, attendants who have gone astray. 
 
 318. pallet, bed. Milton is guilty of a mistake in natural history if he 
 supposes that the lark * roosts ' or sleeps in its nest on the ground. 
 
 329. square = fit or adjust, proportioned is also part of the predicate, a 
 classical ' proleptic ' use. 
 
 341. Star of Arcady or Tyrian Cynosure. The research displayed in 
 these ' learned epithets ' is typically classical, especially in Vergil. 
 The constellation of the Lesser Bear was called in Greek Cynos 
 Oura, ' the dog's tail, 1 from its shape. Both the Lesser and the 
 Great Bear were associated by mythology with Arcadia. The 
 Arcadian nymph Callisto was turned into the Great Bear, and 
 Areas, her son, into the Lesser Bear. The Lesser Bear is called 
 Tyrian, because the Phenicians of Tyre were the great sailors of 
 antiquity, and steered by it. Milton uses the word ' Cynosure ' 
 again in IS Allegro, whence it has passed into modern journalistic 
 English in the phrase ' the Cynosure of all eyes. ' The whole 
 phrase means, then, 'thou shalt be our guiding- star,' since the 
 stars of the Bear point to the north. Doubtless Milton derives 
 his information from this couplet of Ovid's Fasti (III. 107). 
 
 Esse duas Arctos ; quorum Cynosura petatur 
 
 Sidoniis, Helicen Gram carina notet. 
 
 ' There are two Bears, whereof the men of Sid on steer for Cynosura, 
 and the Greek vessel marks Helice (or the Great Bear).' 
 
NOTES 133 
 
 344. wattled cotes, sheep-folds made of wattles or hurdles. 
 
 345. pastoral reed with oaten stops. In the classical pastorals, such as 
 
 Vergil's Eclogues, the shepherds perform their tunes upon pipes 
 made variously of reeds, hemlock, or oat-straw, jointed with wax, 
 like the modern pan-pipes. So in Lycidas, ' Scrannel pipes of 
 wretched straw.' 
 
 359. exquisite, here = inquisitive. 
 
 360. cast, to calculate. 
 367. so to seek, so wanting. 
 
 375. Milton is here expressing his own feelings. He was at this time 
 preparing for his life's mission in contemplative retirement at 
 Horton. 
 
 380. to-ruffled : ' to ' is an old intensifying prefix, generally preceded by the 
 word 'all.' Of. in The Chaucer Epoch, XIII. 269, * Were all 
 to-hewn and sticked at the board.' 
 
 382. centre (or, as Milton and modern America spells it, ' center ') means 
 the middle of the earth, in subterranean darkness. 
 
 393. Hesperian tree. According to Greek legend, in the islands of the 
 Hesperides, far West beyond the Pillars of Hercules, there 
 was a giant Atlas who bore up the heavens ; his daughters, the 
 Hesperides, had the custody of a tree which bore the golden apples 
 of Hera, and the tree itself was guarded by a dragon that slept 
 neither day nor night. 
 
 401. wink on, shut its eyes at. 
 
 408. infer, argue. 
 
 413. squint, an adjective here : Suspicion with its sidelong glances ; a fine 
 personification. 
 
 429. shagg'd, shaggy. 
 
 431. be it not, if it be not. 
 
 436. swart means dark ; of the mine, subterranean. 
 
 443. blinded, brindled, streaked with dark colour ; as in Macbeth : 
 * Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. ' 
 
 461. temple of the mind is the body. These lines may be paraphrased 
 thus : Until frequent association with the angels begins to show 
 its illuminating effect upon the outward shape, the pure body, and 
 gradually transforms it into the immortal substance of which souls 
 are made. Warton well compares a passage in Plato's Phcedo, 
 80 D, from which this is almost verbally translated. 
 
 468. imbodies and imbrutes, becomes material and brutal. 
 
 483. night-foundered, sunk or overwhelmed in the darkness. 
 
 495. Observe that these eighteen lines are rhymed couplets. 
 
 509. sadly, in the earlier sense of sad, ' seriously.' 
 
 51 7. Chimeras. Chimera was a monster of Greek mythology slain by the 
 hero Bellerophon. ' In front a Lion, behind a Snake, in the 
 middle a She-goat. ' 
 
 520. navel, centre. 
 
 526. murmurs, spells. 
 
 529. mintage, the stamp of a coin at the Mint. ' Character' has much 
 the same meaning according to its Greek etymology. 
 
 531 . a croft is a small peasant's farm. 
 
 539. unweeting, unwitting, ignorant. 
 
 562. the ribs of Death, The metaphor is .taken from the story of Eve's 
 
134 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 creation out of Adam's rib. The phrase means c would make a 
 dead man live/ 
 
 585. period = sentence. 
 
 604. Acheron, the river of Hades. Harpies were monstrous forms, half 
 woman, half bird, who seized and denied the food of ^Eneas and 
 his men in Vergil. Hydra was the many-headed water-snake 
 killed by Hercules. 
 
 619. shepherd lad. The common idea that this refers to a special friend 
 of Milton is, as I think, discounted by the succeeding line, which 
 is far from complimentary. Could the poet have described Charles 
 Diodati, the hero of his exquisite Latin elegy, Epitaphium Damoni, 
 as ' not much to look at ' ? 
 
 635. clouted shoon, patched boots ; * shoon ' is an example of the older 
 
 plural in n, which we have in oxen and brethren. 
 
 636. In this line the i of medicinal is to be pronounced very short. 
 
 then = than, as commonly at this and all earlier periods. The 
 words are originally the same, and this fact explains why ' than ' 
 does not govern an objective case. Moly is the magical herb 
 which the god Hermes gives to Ulysses to save him from the 
 enchantments of Circe. ' At the root,' says Homer, ' it was black, 
 but its flower was like milk ; the gods call it moly (/-tcDXu) but 'tis 
 hard for mortal men to dig. Howbeit the gods can do all things ' 
 (Odyssey. X. 304). 
 
 638. Hsemony. This name does not come into the original. Haemonia 
 was, however, another name for Thessaly, <*nd Thessaly was famous 
 for magic and drugs. 
 
 646. lime-twigs, snare, from the mode of caidhing birds by smearing bird- 
 lime on twigs. 
 
 660. Alablaster, a misspelling, often repeated, of ' alabaster,' a kind of 
 
 semi-transparent marble. 
 
 661. Daphne the nyrnph, pursued by Apollo, was transformed into a 
 
 laurel- tree. 
 
 672. julep, a word of Eastern origin signifying originally rose-water ; 
 came to be used for various cordial drinks. 
 
 675. According to Homer (Odyssey, IV. 221) Polydamna, wife of Thon, 
 an Egyptian enchantress, gave a drug to Helen, daughter of Zeus, 
 to bring forgetfulness. ' Nepenthes ' is a Greek adjective meaning 
 'sorrow-averting,' and is applied as an epithet to this drug in the 
 passage quoted. 
 
 685. unexempt condition, a condition from which none are exempt. 
 
 695. oughly. I have retained Milton's strange spelling of ' ugly ' for the 
 interesting light which it throws upon yet another pronunciation 
 of the English * ough. ' There seems little doubt that Milton pro- 
 nounced the word as we do. An older English form is ' ugsome.' 
 The word is supposed to be derived from a root meaning 
 'fear.' 
 
 698. visor'd, masked. The ' visor ' was the face-covering of a helmet. 
 
 700. lickerish, delicate, dainty ; connected with Ger. lecker, dainty, and 
 A.S. liccera, a glutton. The word will be found in the selection 
 from Piers Plowman given in The Chanter Epoch. It has no con- 
 nection whatever with ' liquor,' and is wrongly spelt ' liquorish' 
 in modern texts. 
 
NOTES 135 
 
 707. budge. * Bogey ' or ' budge ' was a name given to lambskin or 
 
 rabbit-fur (see The Chaucer Epoch, where it adorns the dress of 
 young Paston). I believe the word here to have a scornful sense, 
 like * shoddy,' 'budge' being a cheap kind of fur. By 'Stoick 
 fur ' Milton makes reference to the furred hoods used at the Uni- 
 versities (as now for the B.A. hood). The Stoics were a sect of 
 philosophers founded by Zeno, the Greek, whose tenets e.g., that 
 * Virtue is the only Good,' and that death is to be sought rather 
 than feared were highly popular in ancient Rome. Comus, then, 
 sneers at those false doctors who wear the garb of a Stoic 
 philosopher. 
 
 708. Cynic tub, alluding to the story of Diogenes the Cynic philosopher, 
 
 who, to show his contempt for luxury and the 'non-essentials,' 
 lived in a tub, where he was visited by Alexander the Great. 
 
 721. a pet, a sudden fit. pulse is a kind of porridge made of beans ; so 
 frieze is a coarse kind of cloth. 
 
 748. The sentiment is closely akin to that of Herrick's famous song 
 (VIII. vi.); it is also the burden of many of Shakespeare's 
 sonnets. 
 
 750. grain, means originally 'dye,' hence 'colour.' teaze, a technical 
 term for the carding or combing of wool. 
 
 760. bolt, to sift or refine (a technical term of the mill) ; here metaphorical 
 for ' chopping logic. ' 
 
 805. Saturn's crew. Saturn (or Cronos) was the father of Jove (or Zeus) 
 according to the mythologists. He really represents the deity of 
 an older race, and the poets make Saturn and his crew the Earth- 
 born Giants, or Titans, rise in revolt against the usurper. The 
 wrath of Jove threatens them with his thunder and a return to 
 their imprisonment in the place of Darkness (Erebos). 
 
 808. canon laws. He speaks as if Comus and his motley rout were boun 
 by the regulations of a college or monastery. 
 
 816. ' Unless we reverse his rod and mutter backwards spells to break the 
 power of his magic we cannot set the lady free.' backward 
 mutters : it is an essential part of magic that a prayer or a 
 blessing uttered backwards has the effect of a curse ; and con- 
 trariwise here the spell uttered backwards will break the spell. 
 
 822. Meliboeus, like Thyrsis, is one of Vergil's names for shepherds. 
 
 823. soothest= truest, as in the phrases ' in sooth ' and ' forsooth.' 
 
 826. According to the legend told by Geoffrey of Monmouth and Layamon 
 in his Brut and other earlier chroniclers who designed to link the 
 obscure early history of this island with the heroic stories of Vergil 
 and Homer, Brutus, the great-grandson of tineas, made his way 
 to Britain and founded Trinovantum, or New Troy, afterwards 
 London. One of his sons was Locrine, who became King of 
 England and conquered Humber, King of the invading Huns. 
 From Humber he captured a fair German maid, Estrilidis, loved 
 her, and, secretly marrying her, had a daughter Sabra. But he 
 was pledged to Gwendolen, the daughter of a Cornish king 
 Corineus, and through reasons of State married her. When 
 Corineus died, Locrine divorced Gwendolen and made Estrilidis 
 his queen. The ' enraged stepdame ' gathered an army, defeated 
 and \illed Locrine ? and threw her rival Estrilidis, with the fair 
 
136 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 maid Sabra, into the river which was called after her, Sabrina or 
 Severn. Thus the story is told by Milton himself in his History 
 of Britain. It is, of course, wholly mythological, and the name 
 Sabrina is as clearly formed out of Severn as Corineus from Corn- 
 wall and Trinovantum from the tribe of the Trinobantes (see The 
 Spenser Epochs I.). 
 
 836. lank, slender. Here it means something like ' languid.' We use 
 * lanky ' = tall and slender. 
 
 838. necbar'd layers, baths fragrant with nectar. The asphodel is a 
 Greek flower, not adequately identified, but common in the 
 poets. 
 
 845. urchin blasts. The urchin is strictly the echimis, or hedgehog, 
 which was believed to have fatal powers against cattle. 
 
 847. precious-vial'd, liquors contained in precious vials. It appears to 
 me necessary to insert the hyphen, otherwise * vial'd ' is almost 
 meaningless. 
 
 863. amber-dropping, as 'dropping odours, dropping wine' above. 
 Liquid amber was a kind of perfume. 
 
 868, etc. The Spirit invokes Sabrina in the name of all the sea-deities of 
 Greek mythology. 
 
 869 earth-shaking is Homer's constant epithet for Poseidon. His mace 
 is the 'trident,' originally a fish-spear, but afterwards an emblem 
 of sea-power, and therefore a property of our Britannia. 
 
 870. Tethys was the wife of Oceanus. 
 
 872. Carpathian wizard's hook. Proteus, the old man of the sea, lived 
 
 in a cave in the Carpathian gulf, with his herd of seals (whence 
 the ' hook ') ; he was capable of transforming himself into all 
 shapes (whence our adjective ' protean ') and knew all secrets. 
 See Vergil, Georgic IV., 381, etc. 
 
 873. winding shell, the conch, upon which he would 'wind* or blow 
 
 trumpet notes. 
 
 875. Leucothea was formerly Ino. She brought up the young Bacchus, 
 child of Zeus and Semele. Hera in jealousy punished her by 
 driving her mad, and she flung herself and her own son Melicerta 
 into the sea. Ino was transformed into a sea-nymph under the 
 title of Leucothea, and Melicerta into a sea-god. See Vergil, 
 Georgic IV. 
 
 877. tinsel-slippered is Milton's beautiful variant of Homer's ' silver- 
 
 footed Thetis.' 
 
 878. Sirens (see 1. 253). There are many different accounts of their 
 
 number and their names. Ligea (shrill), is merely one of the sea- 
 nymphs in Vergil, Georgic IV., which Milton seems here to be 
 following. Parthenope was one of the Sirens who flung herself 
 into the sea for love of Ulysses, and was cast up dead at Naples, 
 which is her * dear tomb ' and was called Parthenope after her. It 
 was Vergil's home and burying- place. This fact probably accounts 
 for the epithet ' dear.' 
 
 902. Observe the art of the rhymes. Sabrina and the Spirit take up and 
 repeat one another's rhymes. 
 
 917. glutinous, sticky. 
 
 923. Anchises was the father of -ffineas and, therefore, great-great-grand- 
 father of Brutus, and seventh in line of ancestry from Sabrina. 
 
NOTES 137 
 
 934. Her head is to be ' crowned round ' (Greek irtpiarktyu} with towers 
 and terraces as in many ancient statues the deity of a town or 
 place wears a crown of towers ; further her banks are to be 
 ' crowned upon ' (Greek 7n<m0w, used, or supposed to be used, 
 especially of crowning a bowl of wine with flowers, and therefore 
 very suitable to a river's crown of flowers) with spicy groves. 
 This is substantially Professor Masson's interpretation, and the 
 classical erudition implied by it is thoroughly in keeping with 
 Milton's style ; only, it may be remarked that the Greek verb for 
 crowning is 7rt<m0w and not iTrHTreQavow. 
 
 957. The decasyllabic verse at the end of an octosyllabic rhythm has the 
 effect of the Alexandrine (12 syllable) line with which Spenser 
 closes his stanza. 
 
 964. mincing describes the dainty dancing of the wood-nymphs as con- 
 trasted with the ' duck and nod ' of the rustic dance. 
 
 982. Hesperus and his daughters three. See 1. 393. Milton first wrote 
 1 Atlas,' but corrected it to ' Hesperus,' taking the more correct 
 view that the Hesperides were daughters of Hesperus, and that 
 AtJas was their uncle. 
 
 984. crisped (Lat. crispy^) means * curled.' 
 
 995. purfl'd scarf, from Old French pour/Her, to embroider. 
 
 999. Adonis, originally an Eastern deity, a beautiful youth beloved by 
 Ashtaroth or Astarte (' the abomination of the Sidonians '). The 
 Greeks adopted the legend and made their Aphrodite, and the 
 Romans their Venus, the heroine of it. Hence Shakespeare got 
 his story of Venus and Adonis. But Milton shows deeper know- 
 ledge in calling her ' the Assyrian Queen.' Adonis was killed by 
 a wild boar while hunting. 
 
 1005. The story of Cupid and Psyche is beautifully told by Apuleius. 
 ' Psyche ' is the Greek for * the soul,' and the story is allegorical ; so 
 Milton regards it. Cupid is for him Heavenly Love and Psyche 
 the human soul. The story tells chiefly of Psyche's wanderings 
 in search of her two-winged lover, to whom she is finally united 
 in immortality. 
 1015. bow'd welkin, the arched sky ; welkin is connected with Ger. 
 
 Wolke, a cloud. 
 
 1020. This is Milton's * moral,' the summary of his ' divine philosophy.' 
 He wrote these concluding lines in an album in Italy. 
 
 IV. -PARADISE LOST. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 The Argument of Paradise Lost up to this point is as oilows : In Book I. 
 the poet explains his theme 
 
 ' Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit 
 Of that forbidden tree/ 
 
 He describes the fallen angels, their hopes of regaining heaven, and the 
 council of the powers of darkness. As a result of this debate (Book II.) 
 Satan sets out on a journey to Hell Gates to find the world, spoken of by 
 
138 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 prophesy, the home of another kind of creature ' a little lowev than th 
 angels ' ; by Chaos he is directed to this world. In Book III. God sees 
 him and declares to His Son His gracious purposes, while the good Angels 
 worship. Satan flies to our universe and applies in disguise to Uriel, the 
 Archangel, Regent of the Sun, for information about Man, and, so directed, 
 alights on this world. In Book IV. Satan finds out Paradise : the Garden 
 is described, and the life of Adam and Eve in it. Gabriel, warned by Uriel, 
 sets a watch for Satan, and finds him tempting Eve. Satan is driven out 
 by a sign from Heaven. In Book V. God sends Raphael to warn Adam and 
 Eve of their enemy's designs, and Raphael visits them and tells them of the 
 first revolt in heaven. In this book the war in heaven is described in 
 the Homeric manner. The text of the book is Rev. xii. 7, 8 : ' And there 
 was war in heaven : Michael and his angels fought against the dragon ; 
 and the dragon fought and his angels, And prevailed not ; neither was 
 their place found any more in heaven. ' It must not be forgotten that 
 Raphael is speaking throughout this book, 
 
 1. the Angel is Abdiel, the Seraph, who alone of Satan's legions with- 
 stood his treasonable proposals and returned to heaven. 
 
 14. empyreal (Greek derivation), fiery ; hence heaven is called ' the 
 empyrean, ' a favourite word in Milton. 
 
 19. in procinct (Lat. in procinctu), in readiness. 
 
 29. In these noble lines we may hear the voice of Milton in his retire- 
 ment, his countrymen having one and all, as he would think, 
 turned apostates from the cause of liberty. 
 
 42. for their king, the original cause of Lucifer's revolt being that he 
 refused to serve Messiah as well as God. 
 
 69. obvious, the original sense of Lat. obvius, in the way. 
 
 73. total kind, a somewhat pedantic phrase for ' the whole tribe/ thee, 
 in 76, means Adam, and the reference is to Gen. ii. 20 : ' And 
 Adam gave names to all the fowls of the air.' 
 
 78. terrene, the tract of the earth ; here, I think, as usual, an adjective. 
 
 84. argument, proud mottoes on the shields. 
 
 93. hosting, hostile encounter, from Lat. hostis. 
 115. realty, may be either ' reality ' or 'loyalty,' from an Italian word 
 
 realta. 
 
 1 30. securely, another Latinism, the original meaning of se-curus being 
 ' free from care.' 
 
 147. sect, my party. 
 
 153. assay, attempt. In Milton's line ' essay ' was generally so spelt ; this 
 
 spelling is now confined to the testing of metals. 
 
 162. 'I will make (or let there be) this pause in the midst of the fighting 
 to tell you, lest you should boast that your arguments have been 
 unanswered. ' 
 
 199. thrones. According to the medieval system, derived from a mis- 
 understanding of St. Paul's words in Eph. i. 21, and Col. i. 16 : 
 ' For by Him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that 
 are in earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions 
 or principalities or powers,' there were three hierarchies of the 
 heavenly kingdom : the first consisted of Seraphim, Cherubim 
 and Thrones ; the second of Dominations, Virtues and Powers ; 
 the third of Principalities, Archangels and Angela. 
 
NOTES 139 
 
 214. vaulted, covered them with a vault of fire. 
 
 215. cope, covering. 
 
 216. battles, for * armies,' common in Shakespeare and Milton. 
 
 232. Although they were led in the fight, yet each was so skilled in war 
 
 that he might have been General, as in chief, as if in chief 
 
 command. 
 
 236. ridges, the ranks of the army. 
 239. moment of victory. Not in our sense of a small period of time, 
 
 but in the Latin sense of momentum, an impulse that turns the 
 
 scale between victory and defeat. 
 258. surceas'd. This word, though in meaning the same as c to cease,' is 
 
 quite distinct in etymology, being derived from Lat. supersede. 
 277. mingle broils, cause riots ; doubtless inspired by the Lat. phrase 
 
 misctre tumultus. 
 
 288. err not that, compressed form of ' do not err by supposing that.' 
 313. aspect malign, an astrological phrase. 
 323. ' Michael's sword with the down-stroke cut that of Satan in two, and 
 
 then with an up -stroke (coup de refers) sheared his side' 
 
 (Keightley). 
 329. griding, cutting ; a Spenserian word, discontinuous is a word from 
 
 the language of surgery, and means 'dividing.' 
 332. nectarous. Here the angel bleeds the celestial moisture on which he 
 
 may be supposed to have been nourished. In Homer ' ichor ' was 
 
 the blood or the gods. 
 335. was run, a pedantic Latinism. The impersonal constmction of con- 
 
 curritur is quite alien to our language. 
 357. Moloch, the savage god of Ammon, to whom the apostate Israelites 
 
 made their children pass through the fire. The name means 
 
 'king.' Observe that Milton chooses the names of false gods for 
 
 his fallen angels. 
 360. blasphemous. This is the correct pronunciation according to the 
 
 Greek original. 
 365. Adramelech, another fire-god, of Sepharvaim (2 Kings, xvii. 31.) 
 
 Asmodai, otherwise Asmodeus, is mentioned in the apocryphal 
 
 book of Tobit. Mr. Verity points out that Milton probably drew 
 
 his account from Hey wood's Hier archie (1635) and other books of 
 
 medieval demonology. 
 371. Ariel, Arioch, and Ramiel. These names are either invented or 
 
 simply adopted by Milton. Thus Ariel is a name for Jerusalem 
 
 (Isa. xxix. i.), and Arioch is a captain of Nebuchadnezzar's guard 
 
 (Dan. ii. 14). They have no historical significance, but are 
 
 probably chosen for their Hebrew meanings. 
 404. unobnoxious to be pained, a Latinism, obnoxious meaning ' open to 
 
 the attack of ' or ' liable to. J 
 447. Nisroch was an Assyrian deity. 
 470. Not uninvented ... I bring. . A periphrastic way of saying ' I 
 
 have invented.' Cannon were still rare, and strange enough to 
 
 seem to the poets the direct invention of the Evil One. Spenser 
 
 writes of * that divelish yron engin, wrought in deepest hell, and 
 
 fram'd by Furies skill.' 
 479. spume is 'foam.' 
 501. Here Raphael is speaking to Adam. 
 
140 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 512. Gunpowder is made of saltpetre (or nitre), sulphur, and charcoal. 
 519. missive, an adjective = ' that can be sent, incentive reed, reeds to 
 
 touch the powder off. pernicious, destructive. 
 541. sad, in its older sense of ' stern.' 
 
 544. even or high, either level with the body or above the head. 
 553. training means only 'dragging.' impaled, surrounded with a pale or 
 
 fence of warriors. 
 564. discharge and touch and loud that all may hear are, of course, 
 
 equivocal, as are many phrases in Belial's speech (620). 
 576. had not their mouths, etc. The apodosis to this must be * like to 
 
 pillars they seemed ' an awkward sentence. 
 580. suspense is simply Lat. suspensus, in suspense. 
 640. ' Earth has received from Heaven the pleasant diversity of hill and 
 
 dale.' 
 
 654. main, entire. 
 665. jaculation, hurling or shooting. 
 
 672. the sum of things, summa rerum, a Lucretian phrase for the 
 
 universe. 
 
 673. advised = on purpose. 
 
 679. assessor, one who sits by the side, so used of an assistant judge. 
 
 681. 'Son, in whose face can be seen the invisible, namely my Divine 
 Nature, and in whose hand can be seen the action of my Divine 
 Decrees. ' 
 
 698. main again signifies the entire fabric of heaven. 
 
 739. Mark ix. 44 : * Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not 
 quenched.' 'Worm' means, as we should say, 'dragon' or 
 1 serpent. ' 
 
 753, etc. Milton follows closely the account of Ezekiel's vision (Chapter I.) : 
 ' And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings. . . . 
 The appearance of the wheels . . . was like unto the colour of a 
 beryl . . . and their appearance and their work was as it were a 
 wheel in the middle of a wheel. . . . And their wings were full 
 of eyes. . . . And the likeness of the firmament upon the heads 
 of the living creatures was as the colour of the terrible crystal. 
 . . . And above the firmament that was over their heads was the 
 likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone. . . . 
 And I saw as the colour of amber. ... As the appearance of the 
 bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain, so was the appearance 
 of the brightness round about, 
 
 760. panoply, complete armour. 
 
 761. Urim and Thummim were the jewels upon the high-priest's breast- 
 
 plate, and were a means by which the priest divined the will of 
 
 762. In this and the succeeding lines Milton deserts the description of 
 
 the Hebrew prophet. The victory and the thunderbolts are the 
 attributes of the pagan Zeus. 
 
 766. bickering, according to Masson, means struggling, for 'bicker 1 
 certainly means ' to fight ' ; but is there not another sense of quiver- 
 ing or sparkling, as used by Tennyson in The Brook * . . . and 
 bicker down the valley ' ? 
 
 785. obdured, hardened their hearts, became obdurate. 
 
 808. whose. The construction is a Greek one, the relative being attracted 
 
NOTES 141 
 
 into the case of the suppressed antecedent, ' his own or that of 
 
 whomsoever he alone appoints.' 
 860. crystal wall. This wall is imagined to separate heaven from the 
 
 space allotted to Chaos. 
 868. ruining, rushing headlong. 
 893. Milton here tells those who have the intelligence to understand 
 
 that the warfare he has been describing is symbolical and not 
 
 real. 
 909. thy weaker, Eve. 
 
 V.- SAMSON BLIND. 
 
 Samson Agonistes is, as we have remarked in the Introduction, a pure 
 Greek tragedy in design. It is not divided into Acts and Scenes, because, 
 as Milton explains in his Preface, it is not intended for acting. The 
 Preface, which is a sort of apology for the adoption of the dramatic form 
 by a Puritan poet, also explains the system of his choric odes. They do 
 not, as do Greek choruses, correspond as Strophe and Antistrophe, because 
 they are not intended for music. Their metre is in the main iambic, like 
 the regular blank verse of the dialogue, but the lines vary in length. The 
 preface further criticises the Elizabethan dramatists for interweaving the 
 comic with the tragic. Milton conforms, as Shakespeare disdained to do, 
 with the laws of dramatic unity, or at least with the ' Unity of Time ' 
 that is to say, the whole action of the play occurs within twenty-four hours. 
 This extract has been chosen as illustrating on the one hand Milton's 
 choric metre, and on the other hand the personal note which is so strong 
 in Milton. Milton himself at this time was, like Samson, blind in a 
 world of ' Philistines. ' 
 
 8. silent as the moon. The old astronomers, such as Cato and Columella, 
 called the moon ' silent ' at the end of the month when she is not 
 visible, luna silenti. This space was called ' interlunar ' and was 
 supposed to be especially stormy (Horace, C. XXV.). 
 
 16. obvious, a Latin use, in the way (cf. IV. 69). 
 
 27. obnoxious, another Latinism, ' liable to ' (cf. IV. 404). 
 
 VI.-ON SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 This epitaph was the first published poem of Milton ; written in 1630, 
 when he was still at Cambridge, it appeared at the beginning of the Second 
 Folio of Shakespeare's plays, published in 1632. Observe that, although 
 at this time Milton loved and honoured Shakespeare's memory, afterwards 
 as the Puritan spirit grew upon him he permitted himself to slight one 
 who, nevertheless, had an enormous influence upon his art. With its 
 sixteen lines and rhyming couplets the epitaph is not a sonnet. The 
 metaphor at the end, far fetched and bombastic as it is, may be considered 
 the fault of the poet's youth. 
 
 The title as it appeared in the Second Folio was : ' An epitaph on the 
 admirable dramatick poet W. Shakespeare.' 
 
 4. star-ypointing. This y- is the Old English prefix of the past participle 
 (A,S. and Ger. ge-\ here wrongly applied to a present participle. 
 
142 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 10. that co-ordinates its clause to 'whilst,' etc.; in fact, 'that' is 
 
 written to avoid the repetition of ' whilst.' * Whilst that ' is a 
 common expression in earlier English. 
 
 11. unvalued, invaluable, inestimable. Of. Shakespeare, Richard III., 
 
 I. iv. 27 'Unvalued jewels.' 
 
 12. Delphic, prophetic, because the oracle of Apollo was at Delphi. 
 
 VII. SONNETS. 
 
 (i.) WRITTEN ON HIS DOOR. 
 
 In 1642 the Royalist troops were as near as Brentford, and London was 
 in momentary expectation of an attack. They were stopped, however, at 
 Turnham Green, and Charles fled to Oxford. This being the first sonnet 
 here given, it may be remarked that Milton has returned to the severer 
 Italian scheme of rhyming, which requires two sets of four rhymes, then 
 a quatrain of alternate rhymes, and lastly a rhyming couplet. The only 
 essential of a sonnet is that it shall contain fourteen rhyming lines. 
 Shakespeare's sonnet is of a much easier system twelve lines rhyming 
 alternately until the last couplet, which rhymes together. 
 
 1. Colonel is to be pronounced in the French manner, as three syllables. 
 
 10. Emathian. Alexander the Great, King of Macedonia (of which 
 Emathia is a district), when he took Thebes, spared the house of 
 Pindar, the great lyric poet whose odes celebrate the athletic 
 victories of his age. 
 
 12. Plutarch tells us that when the Spartan general Lysander took Athens 
 he was urged by the Theban leader to destroy it utterly. But at a 
 banquet a Phocian minstrel began to sing a chorus from the Electro, 
 of Euripides, which so stirred the feelings of the company that they 
 had not the heart to destroy a city which had produced so great a 
 poet, and contented themselves with pulling down the walls and 
 burning the fleet, the repeated air, therefore, means the repetition 
 of this music, sad Electra's Poet is, of course, Euripides, though 
 both the other great dramatists of Athens wrote plays with ' Sad 
 Electra ' for heroine. 
 
 (ii.) ON TETRACHORDON. 
 
 Milton's title in the Cambridge MS. is * On the Detraction which 
 followed upon my writing Certain Treatises.' This was written in 1645. 
 I have given it as a specimen of the nearest approach to a light style in 
 all Milton's poetry, if we except the two rather clumsy poems on the 
 death of Hobson, the Cambridge carrier. It_is an exaggeration to 
 assert that Milton had no sense of humour. The quaint rhymes, and 
 the tmesis between ' Mile ' and ' End, ' have been regularly imitated by 
 our comic poets. 
 
 1. Tetrachordon was a book in favour of Divorce (see the Introduction). 
 The name (' Four Chords ') is due to the fact that it is an examina- 
 tion of four scriptural texts on the subject. 
 
 4. numb'ring, taking a census, as it were, of those capable of understand- 
 ing close argument. 
 
NOTES 143 
 
 8, 9. Two at any rate of these Scottish and Irish names are familiar 
 enough to us to make us wonder why the ear should be troubled 
 with Gordon any more than with Milton. Colkitto and Macdonnel 
 are one person, a brave Royalist who served under Montrose, 
 Collcittok being a family name of that branch of the clan. Most 
 Irishmen of the name Macdonnel accent it on the last syllable. 
 Galasp is Gillespie, either a Scottish writer against the Indepen- 
 dents, or, as Masson believes, is identical with Colkitto and 
 Macdonnel, who boasted of this also among his five names. 
 
 11. Quintilian, a great Roman scholar and master of rhetoric, under the 
 
 Empire. 
 
 12. Sir John Cheke was the first Regius Professor of Greek at Cambridge, 
 
 at the time of the New Learning. He was Greek tutor to Edward 
 VI. The construction of ' like ours ' is peculiar. He means ' the 
 age did not hate learning as our does.' In those days people would 
 not have been puzzled by a simple word like ' tetrachordon.' 
 
 (hi.) ON HIS BLINDNESS. 
 
 One may question whether this sonnet is not the gem of all Milton's 
 work, or whether so much compressed truth and feeling could be found in 
 fourteen lines by any other poet. In the majestic resignation of the 
 sentiment, no less than in the skill of the lyric craftsmanship, the natural 
 flow of the verse and the variation of the pauses, we find here the very 
 spirit of Milton epitomized. 
 
 (iv.) ON THE LATE MASSACRE. 
 
 In 1665 the Duke of Savoy attacked his Protestant subjects in Pied- 
 mont and massacred a great number in the cause of religion. Those who 
 escaped appealed to Cromwell for aid, and Milton, in his indignation, 
 wrote this fine sonnet, the greatest of those of which "Wordsworth has 
 written, speaking of the sonnet : 
 
 ' In his hand 
 
 The thing became a trumpet ; whence he blew 
 Soul-animating strains alas, too few !' 
 
 Largely as a result of the feeling aroused by this sonnet, Cromwell 
 commanded a general fast, and 40,000 were collected for the relief of the 
 victims. Cromwell also threatened to send our fleet to Civita Vecehia, 
 with the immediate result that the massacres ceased and the victims of 
 persecution were allowed to return to their homes. 
 
 12. The triple tyrant is the Pope, who wears a triple crown. 
 
 14. the Babylonian woe also refers to the Papacy ; it was common among 
 
 the Puritans to apply the expressions of the Book of Revelation 
 
 (Chapter XVII.) to the Roman Church. 
 
 VIII. HERRICK. 
 
 For his life and character, see the Introduction. The first nine pieces 
 here given are from the Hesperides. 
 
144 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 (i.) THE CHEAT OF CUPID. 
 
 The story is taken from Anacreon. 
 22. as Love professes, as human charity requires. 
 
 (viii.) THE PILLAR OF FAME. 
 
 This trick of facile rhymesters is called 'figurate verse.' Its principle 
 is that the shape of the printed lines shall represent the subject of the 
 poem. George Herbert has also employed this device, which is essentially 
 a mark of minor poetry. 
 
 (ix.) FINIS. 
 
 This is almost translated from Martial (I. iv.) : Lasdva est nobispagina, 
 vitaproba. Catullus also has a similar sentence (XVI. 5). 
 
 (xi.) ANOTHER GRACE. 
 3. Paddocks are toads. 
 5. Benizon, blessing. 
 
 (xiii.) GOD'S ANGER WITHOUT AFFECTION. 
 
 Affection in this title has no connection with our sense of ' love. 1 It 
 means rather without emotion or excitement. 
 
 (xiv.) A THANKSGIVING. 
 
 19. A Butterie was originally a cellar where the butts where kept and the 
 butler presided ; by this time it means a storehouse and larder. 
 
 22. unflead means safe from flies. 
 
 25. coale is here charcoal. 
 
 28. Pulse, a kind of porridge made of beans. 
 
 31. Worts means vegetables. Originally the word means * plant, so we 
 have it in many flower names e.g., St. John's Wort Purslain a 
 common water-weed used as watercress. 
 
 39. Wassaile. See note on III. 179. 
 
 42. soiles, fertilizes or supplies the rich soil. 
 
 IX. -GEORGE WITHER. 
 
 For the Author, see the Introduction. 
 
 THE LOVER'S RESOLUTION. 
 
 This song, which strikes quite a new note in the English love poetry, is 
 deservedly the most popular of Wither's works. He has also given what 
 he calls ' Master Jonson's answer to Master Withers,' a dialogue in verse, 
 in which Richard Johnson interpolates a stanza between each of these. 
 Tnere are many slight variations in the words of Wither's part I give 
 the text as it appears in his edition of 1615, though he subsequently 
 made many alterations. 
 
 9. pined = starved. 
 
 16. pelican. The pelican was an emblem of domestic piety ; it was believed 
 to feed its young with its own heart's blood. 
 
NOTES 145 
 
 27. I take these lines to mean, 'The woman of noble and humble nature, 
 
 if she sees that her lover has none of the outward advantages of 
 birth or fortune, considers in her mind that if he had them he would 
 seek higher than herself, if he dares to woo her without them.' But 
 the lines are certainly obscure. A quite different and even more 
 obscure version appears in the * Answer ' : 
 
 c He that bears a noble mind, 
 If not outward help he find, 
 Think what with them he would do 
 That without them dares to'woo.' 
 
 Other variations in later editions show that the author was by no means 
 certain what he meant to say. 
 
 X.-HENRY KING. 
 
 He was born in 1591, became chaplain to Charles I., and afterwards 
 Bishop of Chichester, where he died in 1669. He versified the Psalms, 
 and published a small volume of sacred poems. 
 
 XL-SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 For the lives of Suckling and Lovelace, the Cavalier poets, see the 
 Introduction. 
 
 XII.-RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 (ii.) To ALTHKA FROM PRISON. 
 
 Twice at least our poet had occasion to write from prison. In 1642 he 
 was elected for Parliament, and went, carrying a petition for the restoration 
 of King Charles I. Parliament's reply was to commit him to the West- 
 minster Gatehouse. It was then that this poem was written. Again in 
 1648 he was imprisoned for political reasons. He died just before the 
 Restoration . 
 
 10. allaying Thames, a food example of the figure of speech called 
 metonymy or synecdoche, the part for the whole, one river for the 
 element of water. It is borrowed from the Latin. Compare Vergil's 
 phrase Acheloia pocula, simply meaning ' water.' 
 
 17. committed, imprisoned. 
 
 23. enlarged, free. 
 
 28. that refers to the prison. 
 
 XIII.-THOMAS CAREW. 
 
 He was born in 1595 (?) and died in 1639. Of good family, he was 
 educated at Oxford, and became a member of the Court of King Charles I. 
 Unequal as is his work, he reached at times a far greater height than most 
 of the minor poets of this epoch. He was one of the ' Mermaid ' Company, 
 who counted Ben Jonson as their chief (see The Shakespeare Epoch). 
 
 10 
 
H6 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 (i.) SONG. 
 
 3. Orient, either 'rising' or, as pearla and other gems were called, 
 ' orient,' because the best gems came from the East. 
 
 11. dividing. * To divide ' and a ' division ' were musical terms. 
 
 18. Phenix, a legendary bird, so rare that only one was born in a hundred 
 years ; when her end came she perished in fire and a new one rose 
 from her ashes. 
 
 (ii.) IN BLISS. 
 This is an address to the Saints of his temple. 
 
 XIV.-RICHARD CRASHAW. 
 
 For the author's life, see the Introduction. 
 
 The qualities of this verse, the flashes of inspiration, the exquisite fancy 
 that lights the poem again and again with brilliant phrases, are precisely 
 the qualities that we look for in modern lyrics. Crashaw at his best is the 
 greatest of English writers of religious lyrics. There is not in this poem 
 one idea that could be called obvious or commonplace. 
 
 THE WEEPER. 
 
 22. Angels with their bottles. Cf. 'Thou puttest my tears into Thy 
 
 bottle ' (Ps. Ivi. 8). 
 67. This last stanza is the reply of the tears. Aurora is the dawn, and the 
 
 ' darlings of her bed ' are the flowers. 
 
 XV. HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 His Sacred Poems, published in 1651, reach the highest lyric expression 
 by flashes and brilliant phrases, but are full of faults in versification and 
 sometimes in taste. He is akin to George Herbert in style, but, I think, 
 a truer poet. This poem, at any rate, contains some wonderful flashes of 
 inspiration. 
 
 14. Observe that this line is a foot short of the other second lines. 
 29. It is very difficult to make this line scan. 
 38. perspective, a telescope. 
 
 XVI.-JAMES SHIRLEY. 
 
 James Shirley was born in 1596 in London, educated at Merchant 
 Taylors' School and at Oxford and Cambridge. Destined for the Church, 
 he was ordained, and took a living near St. Albans, but left the Church of 
 England for that of Rome. He wrote a great number of plays and one 
 magnificent masque The Triumph of Peace. When the playhouses fell 
 under the ban of the Puritans, Shirley kept a humble school at White- 
 friars, and devoted his poetic genius to writing a versified Latin grammar, 
 of which the following specimen may suffice : 
 
 ' In di do dum the gerunds chime and close ; 
 Um the first supine, u the latter shows/ 
 
NOTES 147 
 
 After the Restoration some of his plays were revived, and in Pepys* Diary 
 we find this laconic criticism : ' I saw Shirley's comedy Love's Trickesa, 
 silly play, only Miss Davies dancing in shepherd's clothes did please me 
 mightily. ' His end was tragic. At the age of seventy he and his wife 
 were forced to flee from their house by the Great Fire, and the miseries 
 attendant upon that loss proved fatal to both. He and his wife were 
 buried in one grave at St. Giles's-in-the-Fields in 1666. 
 
 His greatest work was 'the Contention of Ajox and Ulysses, which is said 
 to have made even Cromwell tremble. This dirge, inspired by the death 
 of Charles I., is taken from that play, and is one of the noblest things in 
 our language. 
 
 XVII. ANDREW MARVELL. 
 
 For his life, see the Introduction. 
 
 His Garden Poems, from which this is taken, were written in 1650-1652. 
 They represent his earlier or lyric period, during which far the most 
 charming part of his work was done. The oft -quoted lines 47 and 48 
 express one of the most exquisite ideas in all lyric verse. 
 
 THE GARDEN. 
 
 5. narrow-verged, of small extent. 
 29. Daphne, fleeing from Apollo, was turned into a laurel-tree, and 
 
 Syrinx, fleeing from Pan, was turned into a reed. 
 65, etc. It is probably only an imaginative conceit that the flower-beds 
 
 represent a sundial. 
 68. zodiac. The course of the sun through the heavens was mapped out 
 
 by astronomers into twelve signs according to the twelve months. 
 
 These signs together make up the zodiac. The signs of the zodiac 
 
 were represented on sundials. 
 
 XVIII.-FAIR HELEN. 
 
 This is one of those nameless and dateless ballads that are transmitted 
 by the human voice in song and recitation from age to age. The story on 
 which it is founded is this : Helen Irving, daughter of the Laird of Kirk- 
 connel, in Dumfriesshire, had two lovers, Adam Fleming and another 
 whose name is said to have been Bell. Adam was her own choice ; the 
 other, who was Laird of Blacket House, was favoured by her relations. 
 The Laird, maddened by jealousy, concealed himself in the bushes by the 
 River Kirtle. Being discovered by Helen and her lover, he levelled his 
 gun or cross 1 bow at Adam Fleming. Helen flung herself in the way of 
 the bullet, and saved her lover at the expense of her own life. Adam slew 
 the murderer and fled to Spain, whence he afterwards returned to be buried 
 in Helen's grave. The ballad first appears in Sir W. Scott's Minstrelsy of 
 the Scottish Border (1802). 
 
 7 burd = girl or maid. 
 
148 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 XIX. IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 For the author's life, see the Introduction. 
 
 VENATOR is the hunting man who has been converted by the persuasions 
 of PISCATOR the angler, and has become his scholar. PETER is Piscator'a 
 brother, and CORIDON (a regular pastoral name) is Peter's disciple and 
 friend. The inn is in Hertfordshire, not far from Tottenham and near 
 the River Lee. 
 
 25. Shovel-board, a favourite ale-house game of that day. It consisted in 
 sliding discs of metal towards a mark. It is something like quoits, 
 and is now a common pastime on board ship. 
 
 32. dogged, surly. 
 
 62. knacks, gear, as in * knick-knacks.' 
 
 78. gentles, the grub of the wasp or blue-bottle, still much used in bait- 
 fishing. Walton himself and most of his friends were bottom- 
 fishers, and the information which he gives about fly-fishing is all 
 second-hand. 
 
 84. fray, frighten. 
 
 111. lo. Chalkhill. Died about 1678. He wrote a pastoral poem called 
 Thealma and Clearchus, which was edited by Walton. 
 
 124. replications, repetitions. 
 
 125. catch, a song which was taken up in turn by several voices. 
 137. depending, we should say ' pending.' 
 
 146. lady-smocks are the pale lilac-coloured flowers so common in spring 
 
 meadows Cardamine campestris, now more commonly called cuckoo- 
 flowers. 
 
 147. culverkeys are probably bluebells ; the name was also given to the 
 
 ' keys ' of the ash-tree. 
 
 151. Diodorus, surnamed Siculus (the Sicilian), was a scholar who flourished 
 about 44 B.C. The reference is V. i. 
 
 163. Hail! blest estate. I have not been able to find the source of this 
 poem. 
 
 171. Phineas Fletcher was the son of Dr. Giles Fletcher, himself a poet. 
 He lived from 1584 to about 1650, and wrote a fine poem called 
 The Purple Island. Piscatory Eclogues were printed in the same 
 volume. 
 
 177. middle fortune, the ' golden mean,' aurea mediocrttas, of the ancient 
 philosophers. 
 
 195. a piece of an old catch. This is found in a volume of Select Ayres, 
 etc., by Wilson and Coleman, published in 1657. This * catch ' is 
 for two or four voices, and the musical setting by Henry Lawes 
 (see the introduction to Milton's Comus) is still extant. 
 
 207. I marry =' Aye, marry,' 'yes, certainly.' Marry, a favourite ejacula- 
 tion of this date, is the name of the Virgin. 
 
 209. in praise of music. This song also comes from the song- book of 
 Wilson and Coleman mentioned above. It is signed 4 W. D., Kt.,' 
 and is probably by Sir William Davenant (1606-1668). Observe 
 that it is taken for granted that a casual acquaintance would be 
 able to take his part in a part-song at sight. This is not a mere 
 literary fancy, for we have evidence that a person who was not able 
 to do so was regarded at this time as something of a barbarian. It 
 
NOTES 149 
 
 would be interesting to know the reasons of our musical degeneracy 
 as a nation. 
 
 217. Mr. Edmund Waller was born in 1605 and died in 1687. A great 
 poet, a Royalist, the author of that most beautiful of recondite 
 similes 
 
 ' The soul's dark cottage battered and decayed 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time hath made.' 
 
 He belongs in date to this epoch, but as he was one of the early 
 masters of the heroic style we have reserved him to the next. 
 
 XX.-THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON. 
 
 MOST of our traditional ballad literature comes, as does Fair Helen of 
 Kirconnell, from the Scottish Border. This is a rare example of the 
 genuine London ballad. Its authorship and date are, of course, lost in 
 the mists of antiquity. One perceives that it relates to a time when the 
 village of Islington was a longish journey from London. The text, which 
 I take here from Mr. Sidgwick's Popular Ballads of the Olden Time 
 (Second Series), is formed by a comparison of six ' broadsides ' printed 
 between 1672 and 1700. This was, therefore, the sort of literature in the 
 mouths of Londoners at the period of our epoch. This text, it will be 
 noticed, is very different from the version published in modern song-books. 
 In the course of time it has undergone many * refinements,' but modern 
 taste happily prefers the unsophisticated version in spite of its obvious 
 mistakes. 
 
 3. bailiff, then a person of some civic importance. 
 
 15. Observe the omission throughout of ' said he ' and ' said she ' as usual 
 in ballads. Presumably, this was because they were to be sung, 
 and the parts would be taken by different persons. The fact that 
 the ballads were to be sung also explains their irregularity of 
 rhythm. There is no line here which cannot be forced to fit 
 our traditional tune. 
 22 puggish. To 'pug' is to steal, and it is suggested that this means 
 
 ragged clothing such as a thief would wear. 
 42. bow, probably ' saddle-bow ' is meant. 
 45. The lines in this stanza are obviously misplaced. The second and 
 
 third should be transposed. 
 
 49. This stanza, presumably the man's exclamation, is generally omitted 
 in modern copies, and seems from its style to be an addition to the 
 original. 
 
GLOSSARIAL INDEX 
 
 adusted, burnt, iv. 514 
 ambient, surrounding, iv. 481 
 ambrosial, immortal, iii. 16 
 angle, fish-hook, xix. 208 
 argument, inscription, iv. 84 
 asquint, askance, i. (i.) 98 
 azurn, blue, iii. 893 
 
 battle, army, iv. 216 
 benizon, blessing, viii. (xi.) 5 
 bolt, sift, iii. 760 
 bottom, ship, i. (i. ) 45 
 bourn, boundary, iii. 313 
 brinded, brindled, iii. 443 
 burd, maiden, xviii. 7 
 butterie, pantry, viii. (xiv.) 19 
 byn, bin, viii. (xiv.) 20 
 
 callosity, hardness, i. (ii.) 45 
 catch, song, xix. 195 
 champaign, plain, iv 2 
 condense, compact, iv. 353 
 consorts, companions, i. (i.) 91 
 cotes, sheepfolds, iii. 344 
 
 diameter (to stand in) = to be dia- 
 metrically opposed, i. (i. ) 48 
 difference, define, i. (i.) 51 
 diuturnity, length of time, i. (ii. ) 37 
 dogged, surly, xix. 32 
 doradoes, gold-fish, i. (i.) 327 
 drouth, thirst, iii. 66 
 dun, dark, iii 127 
 
 e'en, eyes, xviii. 34 
 emprise, enterprise, iii. 610 
 
 151 
 
 empyreal, fiery, iv. 14, 433 
 empyrean, heaven, iv. 833 
 enlarged, free, xii. (ii.) 23 
 ephemerides, daily charts, i. (i. ) 221 
 erst, formerly, iv. 308 
 
 fall, autumn, x. 15 
 fray, frighten, xix. 84 
 frolick, merry, iii. 59 
 
 glutinous, gummy, iii. 917 
 gramercy, thanks, i. (i.) 231 
 griding, cutting, iv. 329 
 
 helix, spiral, i. (i.) 271 
 hosting, encounter, iv. 93 
 humane, human, i. (i.) 233 
 
 I = ay (yes), xix. 207 
 
 lie = I'll, viii. (i.) 36 
 
 implicite, complicated, i. (i.) 185 
 
 imports, matters, iii. 287 
 
 improperations, revilings, i. (i.) 50 
 
 incentive, kindling, iv. 519 
 
 interlunar, between moons, v. 10 
 
 jaculation, shooting, iv. 666 
 juleps, potions, iii. 672 
 
 knacks, gear, xix. 162 
 
 lackey, attend, iii. 455 
 lank, languid, iiL 836 
 lavers, baths, iii. 838 
 leas, meadows, iii. 965 
 Lee, meadow, xviii. 4 
 lickerish, luxurious, iii. 700 
 
152 
 
 THE MILTON EPOCH 
 
 main, important, iv. 471 
 meikle, much, xviii. 11 
 mickle. much, iii. 31 
 middle, moderate, xix. 177 
 mincing, tripping daintily, iii. 964 
 mintage, stamp of value, iii. 529 
 morosity, gloom, i. (i.) 72 
 morrice, a dance, iii. 115 
 
 nuzzled, nestled, xiv. 28 
 
 obnoxious, liable to, v. 27 
 obvious, in the way, iv. 69 
 
 paddocks, toads, viii. (xi.) 3 
 panoply, complete armour, iv. 528 
 pard, leopard, iii. 444 
 pernicious, swiftly destructive, iv. 
 
 520 
 
 perspective, telescope, xv. 38 
 pestered, shackled, iii. 7 
 pet, fit, iii. 721 
 pinfold, enclosure, iii. 7 
 procinct, readiness, iv. 19 
 puggish, beggarly, xx. 22 
 puissance, power, iv. 119 
 purfi'd, embroidered, iii. 995 
 
 quadrate, square, iv. 62 
 
 sair, sore, xviii. 9 
 sect, party, iv. 147 
 
 sensible, perceptible, i. (i.) 74 
 shagg'd, tangled, iii. 429 
 shift, attempt, iii. 273 
 shoon, shoes, iii. 635 
 simples, herbs, iii. 627 
 slope, sloping, iii. 98 
 sootbest, truest, iii. 823 
 sounds, straits, iii. 114 
 spets, spits, iii. 132 
 spruce, smart, iii. 985 
 spume, foam, iv. 479 
 stead, service, iii. 611 
 stile, title, i. (i.) 21 
 swart, dark, iii. 436 
 swerved, strayed, viii. (i.) 10 
 swinkt, wearied, iii. 293 
 
 terrene, earthly, iv. 78 
 
 toy, trifle, iii. 502 
 
 transcending, surpassing, xvii. 13 
 
 uncouth, unknown, iv. 362 
 unobnoxious, not liable, iv. 404 
 
 visor'd, masked, iii. 698 
 
 wassailers, revellers, iii. 179 
 wattled, made of hurdles, iii. 344 
 weeds, clothes, iii. 390 
 weening, thinking, iv. 795 
 welkin, sky, iii. 1015 
 worts, vegetables, viii. (xiv.) 30 
 
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