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Myself I then perus'd, and limb by limb [ran | And shun the bitter consequence: for know
Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command
With supple joints, as lively vigor led: Transgress'd, inevitably thou shalt die,
But who I was, or where or from what cause, From that day mortal, and this happy state
Knew not; to speak I try'd, and forthwith Shalt lose, expell'd from hence into a world
spake;
Of woe and sorrow.

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My tongue obey'd, and readily could name

Whate'er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light, § 10. Description of Greece-From Paradise

And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay,
Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and
plains,

And ye that live and move, fair creatures tell,
Tell if ye saw, how came I thus, how here;
Not of myself, by some great Maker then,
In goodness and in power pre-eminent;
Tell me how I may know him, how adore
From whom I have that thus I move and live,
And feel that I am happier than I know.
While thus I call'd, and stray'd, I knew not
whither,

Regained. MILTON.

To whom the Fiend with fear abash'd re-
Be not so sore offended, Son of God, [ply'd:
Though sons of God both angels are and men,
If I to try whether in higher sort [pos'd

Than these thou bear'st that title, have pro
What both from men and angels I receive,
Tetrarchs of fire, air, flood, and on the earth
Nations besides from all the quarter'd winds,
God of this world invok'd and world beneath;
Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold"
To me so fatal, me it most concerns.
The trial hath indamag'd thee no way;
Rather more honor left and more esteem!
Me nought advantag'd, missing what I aim'd
Therefore let pass, as they are transitory,
The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more
Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.
And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclin'd
Than to a worldly crown, addicted more
To contemplation and profound dispute,
As by that early action may be judg'd,
When slipping from thy mother's eye thou

went'st

Alone into the temple; there wast found
Among the gravest Rabbies disputant
On points and questions fitting Moses' chair,
Teaching, not taught; the childhood shows

the man,

From where I first drew air, and first beheld
This happy light, when answer none return'd,
On a green shady bank profuse of flowers
Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep
First found me,
and with soft oppression seiz'd
My droused sense, untroubled, though I thought
I then was passing to my former state
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve:
When suddenly stood at my head a dream,
Whose inward apparition gently mov'd
My fancy to believe I yet had being, [divine,
And liv'd One came, methought of shape
And said, thy mansion wants thee, Adam, rise,
First man, of men innumerable ordain'd
First father, call'd by thee I come thy guide
To the garden of bliss, thy seat prepar❜d.
So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd,
And over fields and waters, as in air
As morning shows the day. Be famous then
Smooth sliding without step, last led me up By wisdom; as thy empire must extend,
A woody mountain, whose high top was plain, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world
A circuit wide, inclos'd, with goodliest trees In knowledge, all things in it comprehend :
Planted, with walks, and bowers, that what I All knowledge is not couch'd in Moses' law,
[tree The Pentateuch, or what the Prophets wrote;
Of earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach
Loaden with fairest fruit that hung to th' eye
Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite
To pluck and eat; whereat I wak'd and found
Before mine eyes all real, as the dream
Had lively shadow'd: here had new begun
My wand'ring, had not he who was my guide
Up hither, from among the trees appear'd
Presence divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,
In adoration at his feet I fell
[I am,
Submiss: he rear'd me, and whom thou sought'st
Said mildly, author of all this thou seest
Above, or round about thee, or beneath.
This paradise I give thee, count it thine
To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat
Of every tree that in the garden grows,
Eat freely with glad heart; for here no dearth:
But of the tree whose operation brings
Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set
The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith,
Amid the garden by the tree of life,
Remember what I warn thée, shun to taste,

saw

To admiration, led by Nature's light; [verse,
And with the Gentiles much thou must con-
Ruling them by persuasion as thou mean'st;
Without their learning, how wilt thou with
them,

Or they with thee hold conversation meet?
How wilt thou reason with them, how refute
Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes?
Error by his own arms is best evinc'd.
Look once more, ere we leave this specular
mount,

Westward, much nearer by southwest, behold
Where on the Ægean shore a city stands
Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil,
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
And eloquence, native to famous wits
Or hospitable, in her sweet recess,
City or suburban, studious walks and shades;
See there the olive grove of Academe,
Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird [long;
Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer

There flowery hill Hymettus with the sound
Of bees' industrious murmur oft invites
To studious musing; there Ilissus rolls [view
His whisp'ring stream: within the walls then
The schools of ancient sages; his who bred
Great Alexander to subdue the world.
Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next;
There shalt thou hear and learn the secret
power

Of harmony in tones and numbers hit.
By voice or hand, and various-measured verse,
Æolian charms and Dorian lyric odes, [sung,
And his who gave them breath, but higher
Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer call'd,
Whose poem Phoebus challeng'd for his own.
Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught
In Chorus or Iambic, teachers best
Of moral prudence, with delight receiv'd
In brief sententious precepts, while they treat
Of fate, and chance, and change in human life;
High actions, and high passions best describ-
Thence to the famous orators repair, [ing
Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
Shook th' arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece,
To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne:
To sage philosophy next lend thine ear,
From Heav'n descended to the low-rooft house
Of Socrates; see there his tenement,
Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd
Wisest of men; from whose mouth issued
forth

Mellifluous streams that water'd all the schools
Of Academics old and new, with those
Surnam❜d Peripatetics, and the sect
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe;
These here revolve, or, as thou lik'st, at home,
Till time mature thee to a kingdom's weight;
These rules will render thee a king complete
Within thyself, much more with empire join'd.

§ 11. Courage derived to Virtue from Trust

in Providence. MILTON.

THIS way
the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, [sound
Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,
When for their teeming flocks, and granges
full,
[Pan,
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous
And thank the Gods amiss. I should be loth
To meet the rudeness and swill'd insolence
Of such late wassailers; yet oh, where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favor of these pines,
Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
They left me then, when the grey hooded even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, [wain.
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus'

But where they are, and why they came not back,

Is now the labor of my thought; '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,

Why wouldst 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
With everlasting oil, to give due light [lamps
To the misled and lonely traveller?
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife and perfect in my list'ning ear;
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory, [dire,
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows
And airy tongues, that syllable men's names
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.
These thoughts may startle well, but not
astound

The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
O welcome pure-ey'd faith, white-handed hope
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings,
And thou, unblemish'd form of chastity;
I see ye visibly, and now believe
[things ill
That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glist'ring guardian, if need were
To keep my life and honor unassail'd.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err; there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
I cannot halloo to my brothers, but
Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest

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I'll venture; for my new enliven❜d spirits Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

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To testify his hidden residence:
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades
Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs,
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd
And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept, [soul,

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What readiest way would bring me to the
Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby
[suppose,
Lady. To find out that, good shepherd, I
In such a scant allowance of star-light,
Would over-task the best land-pilot's art,
Without the sure guess of well practis'd feet.
Comus. 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 neighborhood;
And if your stray-attendants be yet lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark

And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause:
Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense,
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 From her thatched pallet rouse; if otherwise
wonder,
[breed, I can conduct you, lady, to a low
Whom certain these rough shades did never But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Unless the Goddess that in rural shrine [song Till further quest.

Dwell'st here with Pan, or Sylvan, by blest Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word,
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog [wood. And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,
To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall
Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that
That is address'd to unattending ears; [praise
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,'
Compell'd me to awake the courteous echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.
Comus. What chance, good lady, hath be-
reft you thus ?
[rinth.
Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy laby-
Comus. Could that divide you from near-
ushering guides ?

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls
And courts of princes, where it first was nam'd,
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.

§ 12. Power of Chastity. MILTON, E. Bro. UNMUFFLE ye faint stars, and thou fair moon,

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or That wont'st to love the traveller's benizon, why? [friendly spring. Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, Lady. To seek i' th' valley some cool And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here Comus. And left your fair side all unguard-In double night of darkness and of shades; ed, lady? [quick return. Or if your influence be quite damm'd up Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevent- Though a rush candle from the wicker hole Of some clay habitation, visit us

ed them.

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[lips.

With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure.

Y. Bro. Or if our eyes

Comus. Were they of manly prime, or Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear
youthful bloom?
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes,
Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops,
Comus. Two such I saw, what time the Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock

labor'd ox

In his loose traces from the furrow came,
And the swinkt hedger at his supper sat;
I saw them under a green mantling vine
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;
Their port was more than human, as they
I took it for a faëry vision
[stood;

Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colors of the rainbow live, [struck,
And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-
And as I pass'd I worshipt; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heav'n,

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Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? [quisite
E. Bro. Peace, brother, be not over-ex-
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:
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?
I do not think my sister so to seek,
Or so unprincipled in Virtue's book,

Unless the strength of Heay'n, if you mean that? [strength, E. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her 'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: [own; She that has that, is clad in complete steel, And like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen May trace huge forests, and unharbor'd heaths, Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds, Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, [ever, 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,

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms
As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)
Could stir the constant mood of her calm
thoughts,

And put them into misbecoming plight.
Virtue could see to do what virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun

moon

and

Were in the flat sea sunk. And wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her
That in the various bustle of resort [wings,
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' 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.

Y. Bro. 'Tis most true,
That musing meditation most affects
The pensive secresy of desert cell,

She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,
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 curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart fairy 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?
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
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was Queen o'
th' Woods.

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,

And sits as safe as in a senate house;
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,
Or do his grey hairs any violence?
But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon-watch, with uninchanted eye,
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 misers' treasure by an outlaw's den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
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,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.

E. 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
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
Which you remember not.

Y. Bro. What hidden strength,

[stone,

Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dash'd 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,
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,
Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
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
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, [talk,
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,
Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres,
Ling ring and sitting by a new-made grave,
As loth to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link'd itself by carnal sensuality
To a degenerate and degraded state. [sophy'

Y. Bro. How charming is divine philoNot 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.

§ 13. Samson Agonistes. MILTON.
Samson. [Attendant leading him.]
A LITTLE onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on;
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade:
There I am wont to sit, when any chance
Relieves me from my task of servile toil,
Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me,
Where I, a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw
The air imprison'd also, close and damp,
Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends,
The breath of Heaven fresh blowing, pure and
[respire.

sweet

With day-spring born; here leave me to
This day a solemn feast the people hold
To Dagon their sea-idol, and forbid
Laborious works; unwillingly this rest
Their superstition yields me; hence with leave
Retiring from the popular noise, I seek
This unfrequented place to find some ease,
Ease to the body some, none to the mind
From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly

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[act

O, wherefore was my birth from Heaven fore-
Twice by an angel, who at last in sight
Of both my parents all in flames ascended
From off the altar, where an offering burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His God-like presence, and from some great
Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?
Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd
As of a person separate to God,
Design'd for great exploits; if I must die
Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my eyes put out,
Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze;
To grind in brazen fetters under task
With this Heaven-gifted strength? O glori-
ous strength,

Put to the labor of a beast, debas'd
Lower than bond-slave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke :
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine prediction; what if all foretold [fault,
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own de-
Whom have I to complain of but myself? [me,
Who this high gift of strength committed to
In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me,
Under the seal of silence could not keep,
But weakly to a woman must reveal it,
O'ercome with importunity and tears.
O impotence of mind, in body strong!
But what is strength without a double share
Of wisdom? vast, unwieldy, burdensome,
Proudly secure, yet liable to fall

By weakest subtleties, not made to rule

But to subserve where wisdom bears command'
God, when he gave me strength, to show withal
How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair.
But peace, I must not quarrel with the will
Of highest dispensation, which herein
Haply had ends above my reach to know:
Suffices that to me strength is my bane,
And proves the source of all my miseries;
So many, and so huge, that each apart
Would ask a life to wail; but chief of all,
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain!
Blind among enemies, O worse than chains,
Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!
Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct,
And all her various objects of delight [eas'd,
Annull'd, which might in part my grief have
Inferior to the vilest now become

Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me;
They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, expos'd
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,
Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
In power of others, never in my own; [half.
Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than
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;"
Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree!
The Sun to me is dark
And silent as the Moon,
When she deserts the night,
Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
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 the eye confin'd,
So obvious and so easy to be quench'd?
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffus'd,
That she might look at will through every pore
Then had I not been thus exil'd from light,
As in the land of darkness, yet in light,
To live a life half dead, a living death,
And buried; but, O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave;
Buried, yet not exempt,

?

By privilege of death and burial
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.
But who are these? for with joint pace I hear
The tread of many feet steering this way;
Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare
At my affliction, and perhaps to insult,
Their daily practice to afflict me more.
14. Powers of Body and Mind. MILTON
OH how comely it is, and how reviving
To the spirits of just men, long oppress'd,
When God into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,

To quell the mighty of the earth, th' oppressor,

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