THE HOUSE OF RICHES.

So fair, and thousand thousand times more fair,
She seemed, when she presented was to sight;
And was yclad, for heat of scorching air,
All in a silken camus1 lily white,

Purfled upon with many a folded plight,'
Which all above besprinkled was throughout
With golden aigulets, that glistered bright,
Like twinkling stars; and all the skirt about
Was hemmed with golden fringe.

*

*

Her yellow locks, crispéd like golden wire,
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And, when the wind amongst them did inspire,
They wavéd like a pennon wide despread,
And low behind her back were scattered:
And, whether art it were or heedless hap,

As through the flow'ring forest rash she fled,

In her rude hairs sweet flowers themselves did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaves and blossoms did enwrap:

Such as Diana by the sandy shore

Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus green,

5

Where all the nymphs have her un'wares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrows keen,

To seek her game: or as that famous queen'
Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,
The day that first of Priam she was seen,
Did shew herself in great triumphant joy,

To succour the weak state of sad afflicted Troy.

THE HOUSE OF RICHES.

BOOK II. CANTO VII.

That house's form within was rude and strong,

Like an huge cave hewn out of rocky clift,
From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hung
Embossed with massy gold of glorious gift,

And with rich metal loaded every rift,

That heavy ruin they did seem to threat;

And over them Arachne high did lift

Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net,
Enwrapped in foul smoke and clouds more black

than jet.

63

1 A thin cloak. Camisa-"Camisia pro subucula vel muliebri quodam ornamento." Du Cange. Hence Chemise (Fr.)

2 Plait.

Sparkling points. French. 4 Elizabeth loved to be flattered on the colour of her hair.-See Melville's inter6 Left.

view with her. Hume. Chap. xxxix.

5 Comp. Virg. Æn. I. 498.

The spider.-See Ovid, Met. lib. vi.

7 Penthesilea; some say she was slain by Achilles.-Æn. I. 491.

Both roof, and floor, and walls, were all of gold,
But overgrown with dust and old decay,
And hid in darkness, that none could behold
The hue thereof: for view of cheerful day
Did never in that house itself display,
But a faint shadow of uncertain light;
Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away;

Or as the Moon, clothed with cloudy night,

Does show to him that walks in fear and sad affright.

In all that room was nothing to be seen

But huge great iron chests, and coffers strong,

All barred with double bends, that none could ween
Them to enforce by violence or wrong;

On every side they placed were along.

But all the ground with skulls was scattered

And dead men's bones, which round about were flung;
Whose lives, it seeméd, whilome there were shed,
And their vile carcases now left unburiéd.

THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS.

BOOK II. CANTO VIII.

And is there care in Heaven? And is there love
In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is:

else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts: but O! th' exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe!

How oft do they their silver bowers leave
To come to succour us that succour want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;

And all for love and nothing for reward:

O, why should heavenly God to men have such regard?

THE CHAMBER OF MEMORY IN THE CASTLE OF ALMA.

BOOK II. CANTO IX.

That chamber seeméd ruinous and old,
And therefore was removéd far behind,

Yet were the walls, that did the same uphold,

PRINCE ARTHUR'S ADDRESS TO NIGHT.

Right firm and strong, though somewhat they declined;
And therein sat an old old man, half blind,

And all decrepit in his feeble corse,

Yet lively vigour rested in his mind,

And recompensed them' with a better scorse:*

Weak body well is chang'd for mind's redoubled force.

This man of infinite remembrance was,
And things forgone through many ages held,
Which he recorded still as they did pass,
Ne suffered them to perish through long eld,

As all things else the which this world doth wield;
But laid them up in his immortal scrine,3
Where they for ever incorrupted dwell'd:
The wars he well remembered of king Nine,*
Of old Assaracus, and Inachus divine.5

The years of Nestor nothing were to his,
Nor yet Methusalem, though longest lived;
For he remembered both their infancies:
Ne wonder then if that he were deprived
Of native strength, now that he them survived.
His chamber all was hanged about with rolls
And old records, from ancient times derived,
Some made in books, some in long parchment scrolls
That were all worm-eaten and full of canker holes.

Amidst them all he in a chair was set,
Tossing and turning them withouten end;
But for he was unable them to fet,"

A little boy did on him still attend

To reach, whenever he for ought did send ;
And oft when things were lost, or laid amiss,
That boy them sought and unto him did lend:
Therefore he Anamnestes' cleped is,

And that old man, Eumnestes, by their properties.

65

PRINCE ARTHUR'S ADDRESS TO NIGHT.

BOOK III. CANTO IV.

"Night! thou foul mother of annoyance sad,
Sister of heavy Death, and nurse of Woe,
Which was begot in Heaven, but for thy bad
And brutish shape thrust down to hell below,

1 The visitors of the chamber.

4 Ninus of Assyria.

7 Recollection.

2 Exchange. 3 Lat. scrinium, a casket. Trojan and Greek ancestors. • Fetch. • Memory.

Where, by the grim flood of Cocytus1 slow,
Thy dwelling is in Erebus' black house
(Black Erebus, thy husband, is the foe
Of all the gods), where thou ungracious
Half of thy days doest lead in horror hideous;

"What had th' Eternal Maker need of thee
The world in his continual course to keep,
That dost all things deface, nor lettest see
The beauty of his work? Indeed, in sleep
The slothful body, that doth love to steep
His lustless limbs, and drown his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deep
Calls thee his goddess, in his error blind,

And great dame Nature's handmaid cheering every kind.

"But well I wot that to an heavy heart

Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares,
Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts;
Instead of rest thou lendest railing tears;
Instead of sleep thou sendest troublous fears
And dreadful visions, in the which alive
The dreary image of sad Death appears:
So from the weary spirit thou doest drive
Desiréd rest, and men of happiness deprive.

"Under thy mantle black there hidden lie
Light-shunning Theft and traitorous Intent,
Abhorréd Bloodshed, and vile Felony,
Shameful Deceit, and danger imminent,
Foul Horror, and eke hellish Dreariment:
All these I wot in thy protection be,

And light do shun, for fear of being shent:"
For light alike is loth'd of them and thee;

And all that lewdness love do hate the light to see.

"For Day discovers all dishonest ways, And sheweth each thing as it is indeed: The praises of high God he fair displays,

And his large bounty rightly doth areed:

Day's dearest children be the blessed seed

Which Darkness shall subdue and Heaven win:

Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed,

Most sacred virgin, without spot of sin:

Our life is day; but death with darkness doth begin."

1 One of the infernal rivers. Greek kokuo, to lament.

"Cocytus named of lamentation loud
Heard on that rueful shore. "-Milton.

2 A deity of Hell. Rolling, trickling.

3 Without desire or enjoyment.
• Interpret or read.

• Reproached, blamed.

THE GARDEN OF ADONIS.

THE GARDEN OF ADONIS.

BOOK III. CANTO VI.

There is continual spring, and harvest there
Continual, both meeting at one time:

For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear,
And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime,
And eke at once the heavy trees they climb,
Which seem to labour under their fruit's load:
The while the joyous birds make their pastime
Amongst the shady leaves, their sweet abode,
And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad.

67

Right in the middest of that paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of myrtle trees did rise,
Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop,
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,
But, like a girlond,' compassed the height,
And from their fruitful sides sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground, with precious dew bedight,"
Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet delight.

And in the thickest covert of that shade

There was a pleasant arbour, not by art

But of the trees' own inclination made,

2

Which knitting their rank branches part to part,
With wanton ivy-twine entrailed athwart,

And eglantine and caprifole among,

Fashioned above within their inmost part,

That neither Phoebus' beams could through them throng,
Nor Eolus' sharp blast could work them any wrong.3

FROM THE EPITHALAMION.

My love is now awake out of her dreams,

And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams,
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear.
Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight,

Help quickly her to dight!

But first come, ye fair Hours, which were begot
In Jove's sweet paradise of day and night,
Which do the seasons of the year allot,

1 Garland.

2 Adorned.

These stanzas form merely a short passage in a gorgeous fiction of philosophical mythology.

Written on his own marriage. The poet's widow and two sons returned to Ireland, and continued to reside there.