Chapter 2

Hence, my epistle--skim the Deep--fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore! Haste--lest a friend should grieve for thy delay-- And the Gods grant that nothing thwart thy way! I will myself invoke the King2 who binds In his Sicanian ecchoing vault the winds, With Doris3 and her Nymphs, and all the throng Of azure Gods, to speed thee safe along. But rather, to insure thy happier haste, Ascend Medea's chariot,4 if thou may'st, 10 Or that whence young Triptolemus5 of yore Descended welcome on the Scythian shore. The sands that line the German coast descried, To opulent Hamburg turn aside, So call'd, if legendary fame be true, From Hama,6 whom a club-arm'd Cimbrian slew. There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just, A faithful steward of his Christian trust, My friend, and favorite inmate of my heart-- That now is forced to want its better part! 20 What mountains now, and seas, alas! how wide! From me this other, dearer self divide, Dear, as the sage7 renown'd for moral truth To the prime spirit of the Attic youth! Dear, as the Stagyrite8 to Ammon's son,9 His pupil, who disdain'd the world he won! Nor so did Chiron, or so Phoenix shine10 In young Achilles' eyes, as He in mine. First led by him thro' sweet Aonian11 shade Each sacred haunt of Pindus I survey'd; 30 And favor'd by the muse, whom I implor'd, Thrice on my lip the hallow'd stream I pour'd. But thrice the Sun's resplendent chariot roll'd To Aries, has new ting'd his fleece with gold, And Chloris twice has dress'd the meadows gay, And twice has Summer parch'd their bloom away, Since last delighted on his looks I hung, Or my ear drank the music of his tongue. Fly, therefore, and surpass the tempest's speed! Aware thyself that there is urgent need. 40 Him, ent'ring, thou shalt haply seated see Beside his spouse, his infants on his knee, Or turning page by page with studious look Some bulky Father, or God's Holy Book, Or minist'ring (which is his weightiest care) To Christ's assembled flock their heav'nly fare. Give him, whatever his employment be, Such gratulation as he claims from me, And with a down-cast eye and carriage meek Addressing him, forget not thus to speak. 50 If, compass'd round with arms, thou canst attend To verse, verse greets thee from a distant friend, Long due and late I left the English shore, But make me welcome for that cause the more. Such from Ulysses, his chaste wife to cheer, The slow epistle came, tho' late, sincere. But wherefore This? why palliate I a deed, For which the culprit's self could hardly plead? Self-charged and self-condemn'd, his proper part He feels neglected, with an aching heart; 60 But Thou forgive--Delinquents who confess, And pray forgiveness, merit anger less; From timid foes the lion turns away, Nor yawns upon or rends a crouching prey, Even pike-wielding Thracians learn to spare, Won by soft influence of a suppliant's prayer; And heav'n's dread thunderbolt arrested stands By a cheap victim and uplifted hands. Long had he wish'd to write, but was witheld, And writes at last, by love alone compell'd, 70 For Fame, too often true when she alarms, Reports thy neighbouring-fields a scene of arms;12 Thy city against fierce besiegers barr'd, And all the Saxon Chiefs for fight prepar'd. Enyo13 wastes thy country wide around, And saturates with blood the tainted ground; Mars rests contented in his Thrace no more, But goads his steeds to fields of German gore, The ever-verdant olive fades and dies, And peace, the trumpet-hating goddess, flies, 80 Flies from that earth which justice long had left, And leaves the world of its last guard bereft. Thus horror girds thee round. Meantime alone Thou dwell'st, and helpless in a soil unknown, Poor, and receiving from a foreign hand The aid denied thee in thy native land. Oh, ruthless country, and unfeeling more Than thy own billow-beaten chalky shore! Leav'st Thou to foreign Care the Worthies giv'n By providence, to guide thy steps to Heav'n? 90 His ministers, commission'd to proclaim Eternal blessings in a Saviour's name? Ah then most worthy! with a soul unfed In Stygian night to lie for ever dead. So once the venerable Tishbite stray'd An exil'd fugitive from shade to shade, When, flying Ahab and his Fury wife, In lone Arabian wilds he shelter'd life; So, from Philippi wander'd forth forlorn Cilician Paul, with sounding scourges torn; 100 And Christ himself so left and trod no more The thankless Gergesenes' forbidden shore. But thou take courage, strive against despair, Quake not with dread, nor nourish anxious care. Grim war indeed on ev'ry side appears, And thou art menac'd by a thousand spears, Yet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offend Ev'n the defenceless bosom of my friend; For thee the Aegis of thy God shall hide, Jehova's self shall combat on thy side, 110 The same, who vanquish'd under Sion's tow'rs At silent midnight all Assyria's pow'rs, The same who overthrew in ages past, Damascus' sons that lay'd Samaria waste; Their King he fill'd and them with fatal fears By mimic sounds of clarions in their ears, Of hoofs and wheels and neighings from afar Of clanging armour and the din of war. Thou therefore, (as the most affiicted may) Still hope, and triumph o'er thy evil day, 120 Look forth, expecting happier times to come, And to enjoy once more thy native home!

1 Young was private tutor to Milton before he went to St. Paul's. (Milton's prose letter to Young is included in an appendix below.)

2 Aeolus, god of the east wind. Sicania was a name for Sicily.

3 Mother of the Nereids (sea-nymphs).

4 Drawn by winged dragons.

5 Triptolemus was presented by Ceres with a winged chariot.

6 A Saxon warrior slain by a giant.

7 Socrates. 8 Aristotle. 9 Alexander.

10 Chiron and Phoenix were the tutors of Achilles.

11 Helicon.

12 Alluding to the war between the Protestant League and the Imperialists.

13 The goddess of war.

ELEGY V. Anno Aetates 20.

On the Approach of Spring.

Time, never wand'ring from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground; Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, And earth assumes her transient youth again. Dream I, or also to the Spring belong Increase of Genius, and new pow'rs of song? Spring gives them, and, how strange soere it seem, Impels me now to some harmonious theme. Castalia's fountain and the forked hill1 By day, by night, my raptur'd fancy fill, 10 My bosom burns and heaves, I hear within A sacred sound that prompts me to begin, Lo! Phoebus comes, with his bright hair he blends The radiant laurel wreath; Phoebus descends; I mount, and, undepress'd by cumb'rous clay, Through cloudy regions win my easy way; Rapt through poetic shadowy haunts I fly: The shrines all open to my dauntless eye, My spirit searches all the realms of light, And no Tartarean gulphs elude my sight. 20 But this ecstatic trance--this glorious storm Of inspiration--what will it perform? Spring claims the verse that with his influence glows, And shall be paid with what himself bestows. Thou, veil'd with op'ning foliage, lead'st the throng Of feather'd minstrels, Philomel! in song; Let us, in concert, to the season sing, Civic, and sylvan heralds of the spring! With notes triumphant spring's approach declare! To spring, ye Muses, annual tribute bear! 30 The Orient left and Aethiopia's plains The Sun now northward turns his golden reins, Night creeps not now, yet rules with gentle sway, And drives her dusky horrors swift away; Now less fatigued on his aetherial plain Bootes2 follows his celestial wain; And now the radiant centinels above Less num'rous watch around the courts of Jove, For, with the night, Force, Ambush, Slaughter fly, And no gigantic guilt alarms the sky. 40 Now haply says some shepherd, while he views, Recumbent on a rock, the redd'ning dews, This night, this surely, Phoebus miss'd the fair, Who stops his chariot by her am'rous care. Cynthia,3 delighted by the morning's glow, Speeds to the woodland, and resumes her bow; Resigns her beams, and, glad to disappear, Blesses his aid who shortens her career. Come--Phoebus cries--Aurora come--too late Thou linger'st slumb'ring with thy wither'd mate,4 50 Leave Him, and to Hymettus' top repair, Thy darling Cephalus expects thee there. The goddess, with a blush, her love betrays, But mounts, and driving rapidly obeys. Earth now desires thee, Phoebus! and, t'engage Thy warm embrace, casts off the guise of age. Desires thee, and deserves; for who so sweet, When her rich bosom courts thy genial heat? Her breath imparts to ev'ry breeze that blows Arabia's harvest and the Paphian rose. 60 Her lofty front she diadems around With sacred pines, like Ops on Ida crown'd, Her dewy locks with various flow'rs new-blown, She interweaves, various, and all her own, For Proserpine in such a wreath attired Taenarian Dis5 himself with love inspired. Fear not, lest, cold and coy, the Nymph refuse, Herself, with all her sighing Zephyrs sues, Each courts thee fanning soft his scented wing, And all her groves with warbled wishes ring. 70 Nor, unendow'd and indigent, aspires Th'am'rous Earth to engage thy warm desires, But, rich in balmy drugs, assists thy claim Divine Physician! to that glorious name. If splendid recompense, if gifts can move Desire in thee (gifts often purchase love), She offers all the wealth, her mountains hide, And all that rests beneath the boundless tide. How oft, when headlong from the heav'nly steep She sees thee plunging in the Western Deep 80 How oft she cries--Ah Phoebus! why repair Thy wasted force, why seek refreshment there? Can Tethys6 win thee? wherefore should'st thou lave A face so fair in her unpleasant wave? Come, seek my green retreats, and rather chuse To cool thy tresses in my chrystal dews, The grassy turf shall yield thee sweeter rest, Come, lay thy evening glories on my breast, And breathing fresh through many a humid rose, Soft whisp'ring airs shall lull thee to repose. 90 No fears I feel like Semele7 to die, Nor lest thy burning wheels8 approach too nigh, For thou can'st govern them. Here therefore rest, And lay thy evening glories on my breast. Thus breathes the wanton Earth her am'rous flame, And all her countless offspring feel the same; For Cupid now through every region strays Bright'ning his faded fires with solar rays, His new-strung bow sends forth a deadlier sound, And his new-pointed shafts more deeply wound, 100 Nor Dian's self escapes him now untried, Nor even Vesta9 at her altar-side; His mother too repairs her beauty's wane, And seems sprung newly from the Deep again. Exulting youths the Hymenaeal10 sing, With Hymen's name roofs, rocks, and valleys ring; He, new attired and by the season dress'd Proceeds all fragrant in his saffron vest. Now, many a golden-cinctur'd virgin roves To taste the pleasures of the fields and groves, 110 All wish, and each alike, some fav'rite youth Hers in the bonds of Hymenaeal truth. Now pipes the shepherd through his reeds again, Nor Phyllis wants a song that suits the strain, With songs the seaman hails the starry sphere, And dolphins rise from the abyss to hear, Jove feels, himself, the season, sports again With his fair spouse, and banquets all his train. Now too the Satyrs in the dusk of Eve Their mazy dance through flow'ry meadows weave, 120 And neither God nor goat, but both in kind, Sylvanus,11 wreath'd with cypress, skips behind. The Dryads leave the hollow sylvan cells To roam the banks, and solitary dells; Pan riots now; and from his amorous chafe Ceres12 and Cybele seem hardly safe, And Faunus,13 all on fire to reach the prize, In chase of some enticing Oread14 flies; She bounds before, but fears too swift a bound, And hidden lies, but wishes to be found. 130 Our shades entice th'Immortals from above, And some kind Pow'r presides oter ev'ry grove, And long ye Pow'rs o'er ev'ry grove preside, For all is safe and blest where ye abide! Return O Jove! the age of gold restore-- Why chose to dwell where storms and thunders roar? At least, thou, Phoebus! moderate thy speed, Let not the vernal hours too swift proceed, Command rough Winter back, nor yield the pole Too soon to Night's encroaching, long control. 140

1 Helicon.

2 The Great Bear, called also Charles's Wain (wagon). "Bootes" is the constellation called "The Waggoner," who is said to be "less fatigued" because he drives the wain higher in the sky.

3 Diana (the Moon).

4 Tithonus, mortal husband to Aurora (the dawn), granted immortality without eternal youth. See Homer's Hymn to Aphrodite (lines 218-238). Cephalus was her lover, unwillingly taken by her from his beloved wife Procris. See Ovid (Met. vii, 700-708).

5 Hades (Pluto).

6 A water goddess--mother of the river gods and wife of Oceanus.

7 The mother of Dionysus. Juno persuaded her to ask to see Jove in all his divine glory, the vision of which struck her dead. See Ovid (Met. iii, 308-309.)

8 The wheels of Apollo's chariot. See Ovid (Met. ii, I9-328.)

9 The goddess of chastity.

10 Hymn to Hymen, the goddess of marriage. 11 The wood god.

12 The goddess of agriculture. Cybele (Rhea) was called the mother of the gods and of men. See Virgil (Aen. x, 252-253.)

13 The god of shepherds. 14 A wood nymph.

ELEGY VI

To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting in the Country

Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished.

With no rich viands overcharg'd, I send Health, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend; But wherefore should thy Muse tempt mine away From what she loves, from darkness into day? Art thou desirous to be told how well I love thee, and in verse? Verse cannot tell. For verse has bounds, and must in measure move; But neither bounds nor measure knows my love. How pleasant in thy lines described appear December's harmless sports and rural cheer! 10 French spirits kindling with caerulean fires, And all such gambols as the time inspires! Think not that Wine against good verse offends; The Muse and Bacchus have been always friends, Nor Phoebus blushes sometimes to be found With Ivy, rather than with Laurel, crown'd. The Nine themselves oftimes have join'd the song And revels of the Bacchanalian throng. Not even Ovid could in Scythian air Sing sweetly--why? no vine would flourish there. 20 What in brief numbers sang Anacreon's1 muse? Wine, and the rose, that sparkling wine bedews. Pindar with Bacchus glows--his every line Breathes the rich fragrance of inspiring wine, While, with loud crash o'erturn'd, the chariot lies And brown with dust the fiery courser flies. The Roman lyrist steep'd in wine his lays So sweet in Glycera's, and Chloe's praise.2 Now too the plenteous feast, and mantling bowl Nourish the vigour of thy sprightly soul; 30 The flowing goblet makes thy numbers flow, And casks not wine alone, but verse, bestow. Thus Phoebus favours, and the arts attend Whom Bacchus, and whom Ceres, both befriend. What wonder then, thy verses are so sweet, In which these triple powers so kindly meet. The lute now also sounds, with gold inwrought, And touch'd with flying Fingers nicely taught, In tap'stried halls high-roof'd the sprightly lyre Directs the dancers of the virgin choir. 40 If dull repletion fright the Muse away, Sights, gay as these, may more invite her stay; And, trust me, while the iv'ry keys resound, Fair damsels sport, and perfumes steam around, Apollo's influence, like ethereal flame Shall animate at once thy glowing frame, And all the Muse shall rush into thy breast, By love and music's blended pow'rs possest. For num'rous pow'rs light Elegy befriend, Hear her sweet voice, and at her call attend; 50 Her, Bacchus, Ceres, Venus, all approve, And with his blushing Mother, gentle Love. Hence, to such bards we grant the copious use Of banquets, and the vine's delicious juice. But they who Demigods and Heroes praise And feats perform'd in Jove's more youthful days, Who now the counsels of high heav'n explore, Now shades, that echo the Cerberean roar,3 Simply let these, like him of Samos4 live, Let herbs to them a bloodless banquet give; 60 In beechen goblets let their bev'rage shine, Cool from the chrystal spring, their sober wine! Their youth should pass, in innocence, secure From stain licentious, and in manners pure, Pure as the priest's, when robed in white he stands The fresh lustration ready in his hands. Thus Linus5 liv'd, and thus, as poets write, Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight,6 Thus exil'd Chalcas,7 thus the bard of Thrace,8 Melodious tamer of the savage race! 70 Thus train'd by temp'rance, Homer led, of yore, His chief of Ithaca9 from shore to shore, Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign, And shoals insidious with the siren train; And through the realms, where griesly spectres dwell, Whose tribes he fetter'd in a gory spell; For these are sacred bards, and, from above, Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove. Would'st thou (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear) Would'st thou be told my occupation here? 80 The promised King of peace employs my pen, Th'eternal cov'nant made for guilty men, The new-born Deity with infant cries Filling the sordid hovel, where he lies; The hymning Angels, and the herald star That led the Wise who sought him from afar, And idols on their own unhallow'd floor Dash'd at his birth, to be revered no more! This theme10 on reeds of Albion I rehearse; The dawn of that blest day inspired the verse; 90 Verse that, reserv'd in secret, shall attend Thy candid voice, my Critic and my Friend!

1 A poet native to Teios in Ionia.

2 See Horace's Odes (i, 19-23).

3 Cerberus, the guardian of Hades.

4 Pythagoras. 5 A son of Apollo.

6 Tiresias was gifted by Pallas with the power of understanding the language of birds to atone for his loss of sight.

7 The Grecian soothsayer at the siege of Troy. 8 Orpheus.

9 Odysseus.

10 "The Hymn" from "On the Morning of Christ's Nativity."

Elegy VI. Anno Aetates undevigesimo.1

As yet a stranger to the gentle fires That Amathusia's smiling Queen2 inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts, And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts. Go, child, I said, transfix the tim'rous dove, An easy conquest suits an infant Love; Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be Sufficient triumph to a Chief like thee; Why aim thy idle arms at human kind? Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind. 10 The Cyprian3 heard, and, kindling into ire, (None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire. It was the Spring, and newly risen day Peep'd o'er the hamlets on the First of May; My eyes too tender for the blaze of light, Still sought the shelter of retiring night, When Love approach'd, in painted plumes arrayed; Th'insidious god his rattling darts betray'd, Nor less his infant features, and the sly Sweet intimations of his threat'ning eye. 20 Such the Sigeian boy4 is seen above, Filling the goblet for imperial Jove; Such he, on whom the nymphs bestow'd their charms, Hylas,5 who perish'd in a Naiad's arms. Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire, And added threats, not destitute of fire. "My power," he said, "by others pain alone, 'Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own! With those, who feel my power, that pow'r attest! And in thy anguish be my sway confest! 30 I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vain From his new triumph o'er the Python slain, And, when he thinks on Daphne,6 even He Will yield the prize of archery to me. A dart less true the Parthian horseman7 sped, Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled, Less true th'expert Cydonian, and less true The youth, whose shaft his latent Procris slew.8 Vanquish'd by me see huge Orion bend, By me Alcides,9 and Alcides's friend.10 40 At me should Jove himself a bolt design, His bosom first should bleed transfix'd by mine. But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain, Nor shall it teach thee with a trivial pain, Thy Muse, vain youth! shall not thy peace ensure, Nor Phoebus' serpent yield thy wound a cure.11 He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air, Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair. That thus a child should bluster in my ear Provok'd my laughter more than mov'd my fear. 50 I shun'd not, therefore, public haunts, but stray'd Careless in city, or suburban shade, And passing and repassing nymphs that mov'd With grace divine, beheld where'er I rov'd. Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze, As beauty gave new force to Phoebus' rays. By no grave scruples check'd I freely eyed The dang'rous show, rash youth my only guide, And many a look of many a Fair unknown Met full, unable to control my own. 60 But one I mark'd (then peace forsook my breast) One--Oh how far superior to the rest! What lovely features! Such the Cyprian Queen Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien. The very nymph was she, whom when I dar'd His arrows, Love had even then prepar'd. Nor was himself remote, nor unsupplied With torch well-trimm'd and quiver at his side; Now to her lips he clung, her eye-lids now, Then settled on her cheeks or on her brow. 70 And with a thousand wounds from ev'ry part Pierced and transpierced my undefended heart. A fever, new to me, of fierce desire Now seiz'd my soul, and I was all on fire, But she, the while, whom only I adore, Was gone, and vanish'd to appear no more. In silent sadness I pursue my way, I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay, And while I follow her in thought, bemoan With tears my soul's delight so quickly flown. 80 When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast12 So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost, And so Oeclides, sinking into night, From the deep gulph look'd up to distant light.13 Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain? Oh could I once, once more, behold the Fair, Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear, Perhaps she is not adamant, would show Perhaps some pity at my tale of woe. 90 Oh inauspicious flame--'tis mine to prove A matchless instance of disastrous love. Ah spare me, gentle Pow'r!--If such thou be Let not thy deeds, and nature disagree. Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts: Now own thee sov'reign of all human hearts. Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine With vow and sacrifice, save only thine. Remove! no--grant me still this raging woe! Sweet is the wretchedness, that lovers know: 100 But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see One destined mine) at once both her and me. ___________________________________________________________14

Such were the trophies, that in earlier days, By vanity seduced I toil'd to raise, Studious yet indolent, and urg'd by youth, That worst of teachers, from the ways of Truth; Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r, To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r. Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame supprest, A frost continual settled on my breast, 110 Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see, And Venus dreads a Diomede15 in me.

1 i.e. "In my nineteenth year."

2 Venus (Aphrodite), so called from Amethus in Cyprus, where she had a temple.

3 Cupid, called after his mother's title.

4 Ganymede, whom Jove, in the form of an eagle, spirited away to serve as his cup-bearer. See Ovid (Met. x, 155-161)

5 The friend of Hercules, stolen by nymphs who had fallen in love with him.

6 She fled from Apollo, and was transformed into a laurel.