The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men Fear'd her ftern frown, and fhe was queen o' th' woods.

What was the fnaky-headed Gorgon fhield,
That wife Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,
Wherewith the freez'd her foes to congeal'd ftone,
But rigid looks of chafte aufterity,

And noble grace that dafh'd brute violence
With fudden adoration, and blank awe?
So dear to Heaven is faintly Chastity,
That when a foul is found fincerely fo,
A thoufand liveried Angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of fin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and folemn vifion,
Tell her of things that no grofs ear can hear,
Till oft converfe with heavenly habitants
Begin to caft a beam on th' outward fhape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the foul's effence,
Till all be made immortal: but when luft,
By unchafte looks, loofe geftures, and foul talk,
But moft by lewd and lavish act of fin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The foul grows clotted by contagion,
imbodies, and imbrutes, till the quite lofe
The divine property of her first being.
Such are thofe thick and gloomy fhadows damp
Oft feen in charnel vaults, and fepulchres,
Ling ring and fitting by a new-made grave,
As loath to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link'd itself by carnal fenfuality
To a degenerate and degraded state.

The labour of an age in piled ftones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques fhould be hid
Under a starry-pointing pyramid?

Dear fon of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'ft thou fuch weak witnefs of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Haft built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilft to th' fhame of flow-endeavouring art
Thy eafy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Thofe Delphic lines with deep impreffion took,
Then thou our Fancy of itself bereaving,
Doft make us marble with too much conceiving,
And fo fepulcher'd in fuch pomp doth lie,
That kings for fuch a tomb would wish to die.

MILTON.

$83. Virtue and Evil. VIRTUE may be affail'd, but never hurt,

Surpris'd by unjuft force, but not enthrall'd;
Yea even that which mischief meant moft harm,
Shall in the happy trial prove moft glory;
But evil on itfelf shall back recoil,

And mix no more with goodness, when at last
Gather'd like fcum, and fettled to itself,
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed, and felf confumed: if this fail,
The pillar'd firmament is rottennefs,
And earth's base built on ftubble.

§ 85. Sonnet: On his deceafed Wife. MILTON. METHOUGHT I saw my late efpoufed faint Brought to me like Alceftis from the grave, Whom Jove's great fon to her glad husband gave,

Refcued from death by force, tho' pale and faint. Mine, as whom wash'd from fpot of child-bed taint

Purification in the old Law did fave,

And fuch, as yet once more I trust to have Full fight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vefted all in white, pure as her mind:

Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied fight Love, fweetnefs, goodnefs, in her perfon fhin'd So clear, as in no face with more delight."

But, oh! as to embrace me the inclin'd,

Iwak'd, fhe fled, and day brought back my night.

I

§ 89. The Lady reproving Comus. MILTON.
HATE when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impoftor, do not charge moft innocent Nature,
As if the would her children fhould be riotous
With her abundance; fhe, good caterefs,
Means her provision only to the good,
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of fpare Temperance:
Had but a moderate and befeeming fhare
If every juft man, that now pines with want,
Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury
Now heaps upon fome few with vast excess,
Nature's full bleffings would be well difpens'd
In unfuperfluous even proportion,
And the no whit encumber'd with her ftore,
And then the giver would be better thank'd,
His praife due paid; for fwinifh gluttony
Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feaft,
But with befotted bafe ingratitude

Crams, and blafphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
Or have I faid enough? To him that dares
Against the fun-clad pow'r of Chastity,
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Fain would I fomething fay, yet to what end?
Thou haft not ear, nor foul to apprehend
The fublime notion, and high mystery,
That must be utter'd to unfold the fage
And ferious doctrine of Virginity,

And thou art worthy that thou shouldft not know
More happiness than this thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,
That have fo well been taught her dazzling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinc'd;
Yet fhould I try, the uncontrouled worth
Of this pure caufe would kindle my rapt spirits
To fuch a flame of facred vehemence,
That dumb things would be mov'd to fympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and

shake,

Till all thy magic structures, rear'd fo high, Were fhatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head.

§ 90. Sonnet to the Nightingale. MILTON.

Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray

Warbleft at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart doft fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the fhallow cuckoo's bill, Portend fuccefs in love; oh if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous pow'r to thy soft lay, Now timely fing, ere the rude bird of hate

Foretel my hopelef's doom in fome grove nigh; As thou from year to year haft fung too late For my relief, yet hadft no reason why: Whether the mufe, or love call thee his mate, Both them I ferve, and of their train am I.

$93. Affections.

HOW great a toil to ftem the raging flood, When beauty ftirs the mafs of youthful blood!

When the swoln veins with circling torrents rife, And fofter paffions fpeak thro' withing eyes!

The voice of reafon's drown'd; in vain it speaks, When hafty anger dyes the gloomy cheeks; And vengeful pride hurries the mortal on To deeds unheard, and cruelties unknown. Then 'gan the palmer thus: Most wretched man, That to affections does the bridle lend;

In their beginning they are weak and wan, But foon, through fuffrance, growe to fearfull end;

Whiles they are weak, betimes with them contend: For when they once to perfect ftrength do

growe,

BUT

SPENSER.

$92. Adonis's Garden.

were it not that Time their troubler is, All that in this delightful garden grows Should happy be, and have immortal blifs : For here all plenty and all pleafure flowes, And fweet love gentle fits emongst them throws. Without fell rancour, or fond jealoufie; Frankley each paramour his leman knows, Each bird his mate; ne any does envie Their goodly merriment, and gay felicitie.

Right in the middest of that paradise There ftood a ftately mount, on whoes round top A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rife, Whofe fhadie boughs fharp fteele did never lop, Nor wicked beafts their tender buds did crop;

But, like a girlond, compassed the hight, And from their fruitfull fides fwect gumes did drop, That all the ground with precious dew bedight, Threw forth most dainty odours, and moft fweet delight.

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

But of the trees own inclination made, Which knitting their ranke branches part to part, With wanton ivie-twine entail'd athwart,

And eglantine and caprisfole emong, Fashion'd above within her inmost part,

That neither Phoebus' beams could thro' them throng,

Nor Eolus' fharp blast could work them any wrong.

And all about grew every fort of flowre,
To which fad lovers were transform'd of yore;
Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus paramoure,
And dearest love;

Foolish Narciffe, that likes the wat'ry fhore;
Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late;
Sad Amaranthus, in whofe purple gore

Mefeemes I fee Amintas' wretched fate,
To whom sweet poets verfe hath given cndlefs
date.

'Gaint fort of reafon it to overthrowe: Wrath, jealoufy, grief, love, this 'fquire have laid thus lowe.

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

Grief is a flood, and love a monfter fell. The fire of fparke, the weed of little feed, The flood of drops, the monfter filth did breed:

But fparks, feed, drops, and filth do thus decay; The fparks foon quench, the fpringing feed outweed,

A

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

§ 94. Ambition.

ROUT of people there affembled were, Of every fort or nation under sky, Which with great uprore preaffed, to draw near, To th' upper part, where was advanced hie A ftately feat of foveraigne majeftie,

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

That never earthly prince in fuch array His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pride difplay. Her face right wondrous faire did seem to be, That her broad beauties beam great brightness threw

Thro' the dim fhade, that all men there might fee: Yet was not that fame her own native hew, But wrought by art, and counterfeited thew,

Thereby more lovers unto her to call; Nath'lefs, more heavenly faire in deed and view She by creation was, till she did fall; Thenceforth fhe fought for helps to cloke her crimes withall.

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

To climb aloft, and others to excell;

That was Ambition, rafh defire to ftie, And ev'ry link thereof a step of dignitie. Some thought to raise themselves to high degree By riches and unrighteous reward;

Some by clofe fhould'ring, fome by flatteree; Others through friends, others for bafe reward; And all, by wrong ways, for themfelves prepar'd. Those that were up themselves, kept others lowe;

Thofe that were lowe themfelves, held others hard,

Ne fuffer'd them to rife, or greater growe; But every one did ftrive his fellow down to throwe.

O facred hunger of ambitious mindes, And impotent defire of men to raigne!

Who neither dread of God, that devils bindes, Nor laws of men, that common weals containe, Nor bands of nature, that wild beasts restraine,

Can keep from outrage, and from doeing wrong, Where they may hope a kingdom to obtaine.

No faith fo firm, no truft can be so strong, No love fo lafting then, that may enduren long.

Of griefly hew, and foul ill-favour'd fight; His face with fmoake was tann'd, and eyes were blear'd;

His head and beard with foot were ill bedight; His coale-black hands did feem to have beenfear'd In fmithe's fire-fpeting forge, and nails like clawes appear'd.

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

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

And turned up-fide down, to feed his eye, And covetous defire, with his huge treasury. And round about him lay, on every side, Great heaps of gold, that never could be spent, Of which, fome were ore not purifide Some others were new driven, and diftent Of Mulciber's devouring element;

Into great ingots, and to wedges fquare; Some in round plates withouten monument;

But moft were ftampt, and in their metall bare The antick fhapes of kings and Cæfars ftrange and rare.

§ 98. Bafbfulness. THE whiles, the fairie knight did entertaine Another damfel of that gentle crew,

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

Upon her fift, the bird that fhunneth view,
And keeps in coverts clofe from living wight,
Did fit, as if afham'd how rude Dan did her
dight..

So long as Guyon with her communed,
Unto the ground the caft her modeft eye,

And ever and anone, with rofie red,
The bashfull blood her fnowy cheekes did die,
And her became as polish'd ivorie,

Which cunning craftiman's hand hath overlaid With fair vermillion, or pure laftery.

Great wonder had the knight to see the maid So ftrangely paffioned, and to her gently faid;

Fair damfell, feemeth by your troubled cheare, That either me too bold yee weene, this wife You to moleft, or other ill to feare, That in the fecret of your heart clofe lyes, From whence it doth, as cloud from fea, arife. If it be I, of pardon I you pray; But if ought elfe that I mote not devife, I will (if please you it difcrue) affay To cafe you of that ill, fo wifely as I may.

She anfwer'd nought, but more abafht for

thame,

Held down her head, the whiles her lovely face

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

That

hollowness

That moves more dear compaffion of mind, Than beauty brought t' unworthy wretchednefs

By envy's fnares, or fortune's freaks unkind:
I, whether lately thro' her brightness blind,
Or thro' allegiance and faft fealty,
Which I do owe unto all womankind,

Feel my heart pierc'd with fo great agony,
When fuch I fee, that all for pity I could die.
Eftfoons there ftepped forth
A goodly lady, clad in hunter's weed,
That feem'd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance, borne of heavenly
birth.

Her face fo fair, as flesh it feemed not, But heavenly portrait of bright angels hiew, Clear as the sky, withouten blame or blot, Thro' goodly mixture of complexions dew, And in her cheeks the vermill' red did fhew Like rofes in a bed of lillies fhed, The which ambrofial odours from them threw, And gazers fenfe with double pleasure fed, Able to heal the fick, and to revive the dead. In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, Kindled above, at th' heavenly Maker's light, And darted fiery beams out of the fame, So paffing preaceant, and fo wondrous bright, That quite bereav'd the rafh beholders of their fight:

In them the blinded God his luftful fire To kindle oft affay'd, but had no might;

For, with dread majefty, and awful ire, She broke his wanton darts, and quenched bafe defire.

Nought under heaven fo ftrongly doth allure The fenfe of man, and all his mind poffefs,

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

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

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

§ 101. Bower of Büfs.

THENCE paffing forth, they fhortly do arrive
Whereas the Bower of Blifs was fituate;
A place pick'd out by choice of best alive,
That nature's work by art can imitate;
In which whatever in this worldly state

Is fweet and pleafing unto living fense,
Or that may daintieft fantafie aggrate,

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

As thofe unruly beafts to hold without; Yet was the fence thereof but weak and thin: Nought fear'd their force that fortilage to win, But wifdom's powre and temperance's might, By which the mightieft things efforced bin: And eke the gate was wrought of subftance light,

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

And therein all the famous hiftorie
Of Jafon and Medea was ywrit;
Her mighty charmes, her furious loving fit,
His goodly conqueft of the golden fleece,
His falfed faith, and love to lightly flit,

The wondred Argo, which invent'rous peece
First thro' the Euxian feas bore all the flow's

of Greece.

Ye might have feen the frothy billowes fry Under the fhip, as thorough them she went, That seemed waves were into yvory, Or yvory into the waves were fent, And other where the fnowy fubftance sprent, With vermell-like the boyes bloud therein thedi A pitious fpectacle did reprefent;

And otherwhiles with gold befprinkeled,

It feem'd th' enchanted flame which did Creüfa wed.

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