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