Milton: Minor Poems

Sec. Bro. Or, if our eyes

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear

The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,

Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, 345

Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock

Count the night-watches to his feathery dames,

’Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,

In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.

But, Oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister! 350

Where may she wander now, whither betake her

From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?

Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,

Or ’gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm

Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears. 355

What if in wild amazement and affright,

Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp

Of savage hunger, or of savage heat!

Eld. Bro. Peace, brother: be not over-exquisite

To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; 360

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! 365

I do not think my sister so to seek,

Or so unprincipled in virtue’s book,

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,

As that the single want of light and noise

(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 370

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 and moon

Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom’s self 375

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,

Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,

That, in the various bustle of resort,

Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired. 380

He that has light within his own clear breast

May sit i’ the 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.

Sec. Bro. ’Tis most true 385

That musing Meditation most affects

The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,

And sits as safe as in a senate-house;

For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390

His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,

Or do his gray hairs any violence?

But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree

Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard

Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye 395

To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,

From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.

You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps

Of miser’s treasure by an outlaw’s den,

And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400

Danger will wink on Opportunity,

And let a single helpless maiden pass

Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.

Of night or loneliness it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both, 405

Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person

Of our unowned sister.

Eld. 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 410

Does arbitrate the 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, 415

Which you remember not.

Sec. Bro. What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?

Eld. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,

Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.

’Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: 420

She that has that is clad in complete steel,

And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,

May trace huge forests, and unharbored heaths,

Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;

Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, 425

No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,

Will dare to soil her virgin purity.

Yea, there where very desolation dwells,

By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,

She may pass on with unblenched majesty, 430

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 curfew time, 435

No goblin or swart faery 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? 440

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,

Fair silver-shafted queen forever chaste,

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness

And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought

The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men 445

Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o’ the woods.

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield

That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,

Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,

But rigid looks of chaste austerity, 450

And noble grace that dashed brute violence

With sudden adoration and blank awe?

So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity

That, when a soul is found sincerely so,

A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 455

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 heavenly habitants

Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 460

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 talk,

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 465

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 470

Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,

Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,

As loth to leave the body that it loved,

And linked itself by carnal sensualty

To a degenerate and degraded state. 475

Sec. Bro. How charming is divine Philosophy!

Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,

But musical as is Apollo’s lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,

Where no crude surfeit reigns.

Eld. Bro. List! list! I hear 480

Some far-off hallo break the silent air.

Sec. Bro. Methought so too; what should it be?

Eld. Bro. For certain,

Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,

Or else some neighbor woodman, or, at worst,

Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 485

Sec. Bro. Heaven help my sister! Again, again, and near!

Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

Eld. Bro. I’ll hallo.

If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,

Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!

That hallo I should know. What are you? speak. 490

Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.

Spir. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again.

Sec. Bro. O brother, ’tis my father’s Shepherd, sure.

Eld. Bro. Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 495

And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.

How camest thou here, good swain? Hath any ram

Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,

Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?

How could’st thou find this dark sequestered nook? 500

Spir. O my loved master’s heir, and his next joy,

I came not here on such a trivial toy

As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth

Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth

That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 505

To this my errand, and the care it brought.

But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?

How chance she is not in your company?

Eld. Bro. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame

Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510

Spir. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.

Eld. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly shew.

Spir. I’ll tell ye. ’Tis not vain or fabulous

(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)

What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, 515

Storied of old in high immortal verse

Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,

And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;

For such there be, but unbelief is blind.

Within the navel of this hideous wood, 520

Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,

Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,

Deep skilled in all his mother’s witcheries,

And here to every thirsty wanderer

By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 525

With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,

And the inglorious likeness of a beast

Fixes instead, unmoulding reason’s mintage

Charactered in the face. This have I learnt 530

Tending my flocks hard by i’ the hilly crofts

That brow this bottom glade; whence night by night

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl

Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,

Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 535

In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers.

Yet have they many baits and guileful spells

To inveigle and invite the unwary sense

Of them that pass unweeting by the way.

This evening late, by then the chewing flocks 540

Had ta’en their supper on the savory herb

Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,

I sat me down to watch upon a bank

With ivy canopied, and interwove

With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, 545

Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,

To meditate my rural minstrelsy,

Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance; 550

At which I ceased, and listened them a while,

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence

Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds

That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 555

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,

And stole upon the air, that even Silence

Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might

Deny her nature, and be never more,

Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, 560

And took in strains that might create a soul

Under the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere long

Too well I did perceive it was the voice

Of my most honored Lady, your dear sister.

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear; 565

And ‘O poor hapless nightingale,’ thought I,

‘How sweet thou sing’st, how near the deadly snare!’

Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,

Through paths and turnings often trod by day,

Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place 570

Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise

(For so by certain signs I knew), had met

Already, ere my best speed could prevent,

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey;

Who gently asked if he had seen such two, 575

Supposing him some neighbor villager.

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed

Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung

Into swift flight, till I had found you here;

But further know I not.

Sec. Bro. O night and shades, 580

How are ye joined with hell in triple knot

Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,

Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence

You gave me, brother?

Eld. Bro. Yes, and keep it still;

Lean on it safely; not a period 585

Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats

Of malice or of sorcery, or that power

Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:

Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,

Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled; 590

Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm

Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.

But evil on itself shall back recoil,

And mix no more with goodness, when at last,

Gathered like scum, and settled to itself, 595

It shall be in eternal restless change

Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail,

The pillared firmament is rottenness,

And earth’s base built on stubble. But come, let’s on!

Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600

May never this just sword be lifted up;

But for that damned magician, let him be girt

With all the griesly legions that troop

Under the sooty flag of Acheron,

Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 605

’Twixt Africa and Ind, I’ll find him out,

And force him to return his purchase back,

Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,

Cursed as his life.

Spir. Alas! good venturous youth,

I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise; 610

But here thy sword can do thee little stead.

Far other arms and other weapons must

Be those that quell the might of hellish charms.

He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,

And crumble all thy sinews.

Eld. Bro. Why, prithee, Shepherd, 615

How durst thou then thyself approach so near

As to make this relation?

Spir. Care and utmost shifts

How to secure the Lady from surprisal

Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad,

Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled 620

In every virtuous plant and healing herb

That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.

He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;

Which when I did, he on the tender grass

Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy, 625

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,

And show me simples of a thousand names,

Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,

But of divine effect, he culled me out. 630

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,

But in another country, as he said,

Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil:

Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon; 635

And yet more med’cinal is it than that Moly

That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.

He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,

And bade me keep it as of sovran use

’Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 640

Or ghastly Furies’ apparition.

I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,

Till now that this extremity compelled.

But now I find it true; for by this means

I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised, 645

Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,

And yet came off. If you have this about you

(As I will give you when we go) you may

Boldly assault the necromancer’s hall;

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood 650

And brandished blade rush on him: break his glass,

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;

But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crew

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,

Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke, 655

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

Eld. Bro. Thyrsis, lead on apace; I’ll follow thee;

And some good angel bear a shield before us!

Comus. Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,

Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster, 660

And you a statue, or as Daphne was,

Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

Lady. Fool, do not boast.

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind

With all thy charms, although this corporal rind

Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. 665

Comus. Why are you vexed, Lady? why do you frown?

Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates

Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures

That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,

When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 670

Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.

And first behold this cordial julep here,

That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,

With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.

Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone 675

In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena

Is of such power to stir up joy as this,

To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.

Why should you be so cruel to yourself,

And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 680

For gentle usage and soft delicacy?

But you invert the covenants of her trust,

And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,

With that which you received on other terms,

Scorning the unexempt condition 685

By which all mortal frailty must subsist,

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,

That have been tired all day without repast,

And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,

This will restore all soon.

Lady. ’Twill not, false traitor! 690

’Twill not restore the truth and honesty

That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.

Was this the cottage and the safe abode

Thou told’st me of? What grim aspects are these,

These oughly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me! 695

Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!

Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence

With vizored falsehood and base forgery?

And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here

With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? 700

Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,

I would not taste thy treasonous offer. None

But such as are good men can give good things;

And that which is not good is not delicious

To a well-governed and wise appetite. 705

Comus. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears

To those budge doctors of the stoic fur,

And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,

Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!

Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth 710

With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,

Covering the earth with odors, fruits, and flocks,

Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,

But all to please and sate the curious taste?

And set to work millions of spinning worms, 715

That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,

To deck her sons; and, that no corner might

Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins

She hutched the all-worshipped ore and precious gems,

To store her children with. If all the world 720

Should, in a fit of temperance, feed on pulse,

Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,

The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,

Not half his riches known, and yet despised;

And we should serve him as a grudging master, 725

As a penurious niggard of his wealth,

And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons,

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,

And strangled with her waste fertility:

The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes, 730

The herds would over-multitude their lords;

The sea o’erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds

Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,

And so bestud with stars, that they below

Would grow inured to light, and come at last 735

To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.

List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozened

With that same vaunted name, Virginity.

Beauty is Nature’s coin; must not be hoarded,

But must be current; and the good thereof 740

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,

Unsavory in the enjoyment of itself.

If you let slip time, like a neglected rose

It withers on the stalk with languished head.

Beauty is Nature’s brag, and must be shown 745

In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,

Where most may wonder at the workmanship.

It is for homely features to keep home;

They had their name thence: coarse complexions

And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750

The sampler, and to tease the huswife’s wool.

What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?

There was another meaning in these gifts;

Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet. 755

Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips

In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler

Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,

Obtruding false rules pranked in reason’s garb.

I hate when vice can bolt her arguments 760

And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.

Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature,

As if she would her children should be riotous

With her abundance. She, good cateress,

Means her provision only to the good, 765

That live according to her sober laws,

And holy dictate of spare Temperance.

If every just man that now pines with want

Had but a moderate and beseeming share

Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury 770

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,

Nature’s full blessings would be well-dispensed

In unsuperfluous even proportion,

And she no whit encumbered with her store;

And then the Giver would be better thanked, 775

His praise due paid: for swinish gluttony

Ne’er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,

But with besotted base ingratitude

Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?

Or have I said enow? To him that dares 780

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words

Against the sun-clad power of chastity

Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?

Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend

The sublime notion and high mystery 785

That must be uttered to unfold the sage

And serious doctrine of Virginity;

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know

More happiness than this thy present lot.

Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, 790

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.

Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits

To such a flame of sacred vehemence 795

That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,

And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,

Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,

Were shattered into heaps o’er thy false head.

Comus. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 800

Her words set off by some superior power;

And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew

Dips me all o’er, as when the wrath of Jove

Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus

To some of Saturn’s crew. I must dissemble, 805

And try her yet more strongly,—Come, no more!

This is mere moral babble, and direct

Against the canon laws of our foundation.

I must not suffer this; yet ’tis but the lees

And settlings of a melancholy blood. 810

But this will cure all straight; one sip of this

Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight

Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste....

Spir. What! have you let the false enchanter scape?

O ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand, 815

And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,

And backward mutters of dissevering power,

We cannot free the Lady that sits here

In stony fetters fixed and motionless.

Yet stay: be not disturbed; now I bethink me, 820

Some other means I have which may be used,

Which once of Melibœus old I learnt,

The soothest shepherd that e’er piped on plains.

There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence,

That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream: 825

Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure;

Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,

That had the sceptre from his father Brute.

She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit

Of her enraged stepdame, Guendolen, 830

Commended her fair innocence to the flood

That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.

The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,

Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in,

Bearing her straight to aged Nereus’ hall; 835

Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,

And gave her to his daughters to imbathe

In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,

And through the porch and inlet of each sense

Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived, 840

And underwent a quick immortal change,

Made Goddess of the river. Still she retains

Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve

Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,

Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 845

That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,

Which she with precious vialed liquors heals:

For which the shepherds, at their festivals,

Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850

Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.

And, as the old swain said, she can unlock

The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,

If she be right invoked in warbled song;

For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 855

To aid a virgin, such as was herself,

In hard-besetting need. This will I try,

And add the power of some adjuring verse.