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THE 
 
 LYRIC AND DRAMATIC 
 
 POEMS J£- 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 
 BY 
 
 MARTIN W. SAMPSON 
 
 Professor of English in I?idiana U7iiversity 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 190 1 
 

 THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two CoHifcS Received 
 
 SEP. 16 1901 
 
 Copyright entry 
 
 C3S <£^XXc. Nc*. 
 COPY 3. 
 
 Copyright, igoi, 
 
 BY 
 HENRY HOLT & CO. 
 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The purpose of this book is to provide a new ap- 
 proach to Milton, by giving for the first time in 
 one volume the text of all of Milton's English lyric 
 and dramatic poems, annotated for school or col- 
 lege use. To the minor poems (including Comus) 
 so frequently edited, I have added Samson Agonistes, 
 in the belief that an introduction to the study of 
 Milton may more appropriately lead through the 
 lyric and dramatic poems than through the minor 
 poems and selections from Paradise Lost. The 
 sublimity of Milton, as revealed in the great epic, 
 is not readily felt by a young student, who may, 
 however, gain from Milton's tragedy a sense of the 
 poet's greatness, as distinguished from those quali- 
 ties which the minor poems so amply illustrate. 
 
 The first edition of the minor poems appeared in 
 1645, an d was reprinted, in 1673. Comus appeared 
 independently in 1637; Lycidas in 1638, in a volume 
 of memorial verse by several hands; and Samson 
 Agonistes in 1671, in a volume with Paradise Re- 
 gained. These editions, together with the Cam- 
 bridge MS., which is chiefly in Milton's own hand, 
 are the authorities for any text. I have used the 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 British Museum copies of the 1645, ^71 , and 1673 
 editions, and Dr. Aldis Wright's fac-simile of the 
 MS. . The MS. contains, it may be said, either the 
 original drafts, or early copies, of Arcades, Comus, 
 a few of the shorter lyrics, most of the sonnets, and 
 some notes of great biographical interest relating 
 to possible subjects for future work. The MS. is, of 
 course, an immensely valuable document to stu- 
 dents of Milton. There is also a Bridgewater MS. 
 of Comus, which is thought to be in Lawes's hand. 
 Todd printed this MS. in 1798, and in his 1801 edi- 
 tion of Milton gave the various MS. readings, 
 which are not, however, of importance in settling 
 difficulties: the most interesting variation is that 
 which makes part of the invocation to Sabrina 
 (867-889) a trio instead of a solo. 
 
 Todd's complete edition of Milton (1801, and 
 three times afterward re-issued) contains many 
 variorum notes of value, especially in locating 
 parallel passages. Professor Masson's several edi- 
 tions and his great Life of the poet have, in the 
 fiekl of literary scholarship, inseparably associated 
 his name with Milton's. To Professor Masson 
 every present-day editor of Milton must be under 
 great obligation. Other editions (among them 
 those of Newton, Keightley, Browne) I have care- 
 fully examined, finding occasional assistance, which 
 I have duly recorded. I Jiave been aided but little 
 by the many school editions, excepting the edition 
 by Mr. Verity, the Samson Agonistes edited by Mr. 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 Percival, and the Lycidas edited by Mr. Jerram, 
 which have been of service. 
 
 The text follows the first editions as closely as 
 modern spelling, capitalization and punctuation per- 
 mit. In punctuation I have tried to be logical 
 rather than uniform. 
 
 The proper order of the poems is not an easy 
 matter to determine: a chronological order cannot 
 be established with certainty. In this edition those 
 poems that seem to belong together have been 
 placed together, and within the groups the poems 
 come in the order in which they were written, so 
 far as that can be ascertained. 
 
 I have made (with much diffidence) one emenda- 
 tion in the text. Line 1218 of Samson Agonistes, 
 which in all editions reads: 
 
 4 And had performed it if my known offence ' 
 
 is a line which has had no assured meaning. The 
 proposed change is: 
 
 1 And had performed it if mine own offence ' 
 
 — a reading which brings out, I believe, the obvious 
 antithesis in the sentence. Milton was blind when 
 he composed the line, and as ' my known ' and 
 1 mine own ' sound alike, there was no reason for 
 him to suspect the clerical or typographical error, 
 if error it was. 
 
 The Introduction aims to set forth the principal 
 quality of Milton's style, the use of literary ma- 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 terial in Comus, and the structure of the dramatic 
 forms in which Comus and Samson Agonistes are 
 written. The lyric poems are not made the subject 
 of especial discussion here, because in the Com- 
 ments and Questions they receive sufficient com- 
 ment to make obvious their simpler aspects. 
 
 A teacher of Milton should have access, at least, 
 to these books: Masson's Library Edition of Milton, 
 3 vols. (Macmillan, 1890); Robert Bridges' Milton's 
 Prosody (Clarendon Press); Osgood's The Classical 
 Mythology in Milton's English Poems (Yale Studies 
 in English: VIII. , Holt); Beeching's reprint of The 
 Poems of John Milton (Clarendon Press); and 
 some brief life of Milton — Pattison's (Harper's) or 
 Garnett's (Scribner's). Masson's Life (6 vols., 
 Macmillan) is necessary to any one who wishes to 
 be fully informed concerning the details of Milton's 
 life. References in this present edition to vol. i. 
 are to the revised first volume. Material regarding 
 the mask is to be found in Burckhardt's Civilization 
 of the Renaissance, Symonds' Predecessors of Shakes- 
 peare, and Verity's Introduction to Comus. 
 
 I am greatly indebted to my colleagues, Pro- 
 fessor G. H. Stempel and Professor J. M. Clapp, 
 for their criticism of my MS. 
 
 M. W. S. 
 
 Chatham, Mass., 
 
 12 July , 1901, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Miltonic Quality, ix 
 
 The Sources of Comus, . ■ . . . . xiv 
 The Development of the Mask, . . xxvii 
 Comus as a Mask, , xxxii 
 
 Samson Agonistes, . . . . . xli 
 
 Dates in Milton's Life, li 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 A Paraphrase on Psalm Cxiv., i 
 
 Psalm Cxxxvl, 2 
 
 On the Death of a Fair Infant, ... 5 
 
 At a Vacation Exercise, 9 
 
 On the Morning of Christ's Nativity, . . 13 
 
 Upon the Circumcision, 24 
 
 _ The Passion, 25 
 
 Song on May Morning, 28 
 
 On Shakespear, 28 
 
 On the University Carrier, .... 29 
 
 Another on the Same, 29 
 
 An Epitaph on the Marchioness of Win- 
 chester, 31 
 
 L'Allegro, 33 
 
 II Penseroso, 38 
 
 At a Solemn Music, 44 
 
 On Time, ........ 45 
 
 vii 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Arcades, 46 
 
 Comus, 51 
 
 Lycidas, 91 
 
 To the Nightingale, 98 
 
 On His Having Arrived at the Age of Twenty- 
 Three, .98 
 
 When the Assault was Intended to the City, 99 
 
 To a Virtuous Young Lady, .... 100 
 
 To the Lady Margaret Ley, .... 100 
 On the Detraction which Followed upon My 
 Writing Certain Treatises, . . . .101 
 
 On the Same, 102 
 
 On the New Forcers of Conscience Under the 
 
 Long Parliament, 102 
 
 To Mr. H. Lawes, 103 
 
 On the Religious Memory of Mrs. Catharine 
 Thomson, My Christian Friend, Deceased 
 
 Dec. 16, 1646, 104 
 
 On the Lord General Fairfax, at the Siege 
 
 of Colchester, 104 
 
 To the Lord General Cromwell, . . . 105 
 
 To Sir Henry Vane the Younger, . . . 106 
 
 On the Late Massacre in Piemont, . . . 107 
 
 On His Blindness, 107 
 
 To Mr. Lawrence, . . . . . 108 
 
 To Cyriack Skinner, 109 
 
 To the Same, 109 
 
 On His Deceased Wife, no 
 
 The Fifth Ode of Horace, Lib. I., . . . in 
 
 Samson Agonistes, 112 
 
 NOTES, 177 
 
 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS, .... 316 
 APPENDIX ; MILTON'S METRES, . , .339 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The full range of Milton's genius cannot, of 
 course, appear in any volume that excludes Para- 
 dise Lost, but the poems here given show not inade- 
 quately the two strains of feeling that make up the 
 quality we call Miltonic. These two strains, — not 
 often found together, and rarely found in full 
 measure, — proceed from Milton's exquisite sense of 
 beauty and from his sense of the sublime and mor- 
 ally lofty. The feeling for beauty is usually a 
 thing of delicacy and refinement, but may be 
 austere as well, — a passion for severe and perfect 
 outline and form. In Milton, not merely the aus- 
 terity of beauty is evident, but the softer grace is 
 present, too ; a rare union indeed in English verse. 
 And these two recognitions of beauty, together with 
 the sense of the sublime, form a rarer union still. 
 Frequent enough is the spontaneous instinct for 
 simple and sensuous beauty, unaccompanied by the 
 stern sense of artistic form or by the craving for 
 self-control that means ultimately a guiding mas- 
 tery of life : this instinct Keats, for example, showed 
 in his earlier work; in his later verse, Keats, too, 
 attained impassioned expression of beauty, under 
 perfect control of form, and now and then one finds 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 in him a note of lofty vision that suggests the en- 
 during quality of all of Milton's poetry. 
 
 To be more specific, Milton has the instinct for 
 perfect speech as keenly as has a precisian : yet the 
 right word to him is not merely the word which 
 gives the exact meaning,* but the word whose con- 
 notation, through beauty of sound and dignity of 
 association, is the richest. He has the carefulness 
 that distinguished Coleridge, and also as great a 
 love of melodious language as one may find in 
 Marlowe or Swinburne or Edgar Poe. The intel- 
 lectual Puritan in him, however, saves him from the 
 temptation to become a voluptuary of fragrant lan- 
 guage, and let beauty run riot in his verse. Beauty 
 is the joyous ornament of his poetry, never the sum 
 and substance of his thought. But not merely the 
 beautiful word, the well-rounded verse, are part of 
 Milton's style; graceful images and vivid illus- 
 trations are part of it as well. It is a style poosesc- 
 ing wealth of beauty, and yet, with all its richness, 
 coming nearer a perfect balance than perhaps any 
 man's since Sophocles. If the style is not quite 
 perfect, it is because in the matter of imagery Mil- 
 ton at times nears the danger mark : more than once 
 he is perilously near the mere conceit.* This fault 
 in taste (for that is what it really is) might be at- 
 tributed to the fashion of the time; but this expla- 
 
 * Milton shows occasionally in his verse itself a real philological 
 instinct. Cf. Comus 325, 748-9 ; Sam. Agon. 1418. 
 f Cf Comus 251-2, for example. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 nation would not excuse the poet's yielding to the 
 tasteless fashion. Obviously it is safer to admit the 
 fact that Milton was not perfect, and to regard the 
 fault as one of his imperfections; recognizing, too, 
 that usually Milton's images are as sound as they 
 are vivid. In grace, in euphony, in certainty of 
 touch, in clearness of conception, then, Milton re- 
 veals his love of beauty, a feeling far higher than a 
 merely sensuous delight in loveliness can be.* 
 
 * One may hardly speak of Milton and sensuousness in the 
 same sentence without sending the reader's thoughts to Milton's 
 obiter dictum regarding poetry, as something ' simple, sensuous, 
 and passionate.' This point it will be well to consider briefly. 
 The words were not meant to be an absolute description of 
 poetry ; they indicate a contrast between poetry and logic or 
 rhetoric. Compared with these, poetry is indeed simple (not 
 subtile), sensuous (not abstract), and passionate (not unemotional). 
 The words as generally taken, however, — provided they be not 
 regarded as exhaustive, — are by no means unsatisfactory as a 
 comment on the real nature of poetry itself. Simple, in the 
 sense of clear ; sensuous, because possessing a lively appeal to 
 sense-experience ; and passionate, in the sense of having the 
 great movement of powerful feeling : these qualities belong to 
 poetry. But applying the words, in their familiar sense, to Mil- 
 ton, we find him not as simple as is, for instance, Longfellow; 
 not sensuous to the degree that Keats is ; not passionate, after 
 the fashion of Burns and Byron : and yet meriting all these ad- 
 jectives. Obviously, when so much depends on the definition we 
 attach to the words, the words themselves should not be care- 
 lessly used as if completely expressing Milton's theory of poetry. 
 The brief paragraph from Milton's treatise on Education is as 
 follows : 
 
 1 And now, lastly, will be the time to read with them those 
 organic arts, which enable men to discourse and write perspicu- 
 
Xll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Puritan imperviousness to beauty (a fact so 
 frequently commented upon) has no place in Mil- 
 ton's make-up. The Puritan in him obviously sus- 
 tains him in his effort toward righteousness; but 
 not less, I believe, the Puritan in him makes him 
 hold fast to his sense of perfect form. Granted the 
 feeling for beauty to begin with, Milton could hold 
 to it steadfastly ; not, indeed, because he was a 
 Puritan, but because the qualities that made him a 
 Puritan made him loyal to the ideal things of life, 
 to poetry and music as well as to ideals of personal 
 conduct. Herein lies the secret of his belief that 
 true poetry can be written only by one whose life is 
 a true poem. A mere moralist could not have 
 thought of the idea under that image; but Milton 
 thus finely and nobly indicates his sense of the kin- 
 ship between right living and noble thinking, — 
 a kinship which by no mere verbal process gives us 
 our phrase, i the art of living/ His puritanism, 
 then, is not antagonistic to his sense of beauty, but 
 is ultimately derivable from a common source, his 
 aspiration for the ideal in life, — beauty no less than 
 conduct. 
 
 ously, elegantly, and according to the fittest style, of lofty, mean, 
 or lowly. Logic, therefore, so much as is useful, is to be referred 
 to this due place with all her well-couched heads and topics, until 
 it be time to open her contracted palm into a graceful and ornate 
 rhetoric, taught out of the rule of Plato, Aristotle, Phalereus, 
 Cicero, Hermagenes, Longinus. To which poetry would be 
 made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less sub- 
 tile and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.' 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. xni 
 
 And this leads us directly to the other element of 
 the Miltonic quality, the sense of loftiness. Here 
 no qualifying words are needed : Milton apprehends 
 high things; his thought moves on a high level. 
 This alone does not make a poet great : as much may 
 be said of Emerson, who is not a great poet. It is 
 because Milton thinks of higher things imagina- 
 tively, is stirred to deep emotion over them, and ex- 
 presses his lofty conceptions in noble language, that 
 we count him great in poetry. To have a high ideal, 
 this is a part of morality ; to be profoundly moved 
 by it, this is passion; but to have in addition the 
 gift of bringing home to others the moving power 
 of the concrete ideal, this is to create literature of a 
 large and enduring kind. Milton never loses faith 
 in his vision of sublimity, and never speaks of it in- 
 adequately; therefore his readers are impelled to 
 share his faith, and to accept his vision with inspir- 
 ing delight. For, and thus we return to our start- 
 ing point, in his lofty flights Milton's sense of 
 beauty does not desert him; in his vision of the 
 beautiful his sense of moral grandeur never fails. 
 But it is not in a hackneyed identifying of beauty 
 and truth that I would state Milton's poetic virtue ; 
 rather in his far-reaching aspiration, in his prophetic 
 vision, and in his knowledge of the value of beauti- 
 ful images and harmonious speech, do I find the 
 strains that unite in Milton. 
 
 Limitations are not difficult to find : a genial hu- 
 mor, a kindly view of the daily life of men and 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 women, an ability to put himself in another's place : 
 these characteristics are clearly not Milton's. Per- 
 haps he would have been the less Milton if they 
 were. Certainly, no lover of great verse would ex- 
 change the poetry that springs from Milton's stren- 
 uous insistence on right toward man and duty to- 
 ward God, for the poetry that grows out of mere 
 happy kindliness, charming as such poetry may be. 
 But, and the point must be insisted upon, in choos- 
 ing Milton to read, one is not choosing the austere 
 and rejecting the beautiful; one is accepting the 
 eminently beautiful and the eminently lofty : not ex- 
 haustively either of them, but more of both than 
 may be found in harmony in any other poet, save 
 one, of our English race. 
 
 THE SOURCES OF COMUS. 
 
 The fundamental conception of Comus is thor 
 oughly Miltonic: the idea of the strength of righ 
 against evil, — more specifically of chastity against 
 lust, — is instinctive with Milton, and is therefore 
 not to be traced to any other source than the heart 
 of the poet. Such a conception was bound to come 
 into expression, and might as readily have found 
 its occasion elsewhere as it did in the invitation to 
 write a mask. But this invitation presented the 
 adequate opportunity, and Milton grasped it. How 
 his thoughts happened to turn to the specific sub- 
 ject, Comus, we have no certain means of know- 
 
 ; 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 ing. We may only guess what sent his thoughts to 
 this personage, Comus, rather than to Diana or 
 Vesta on the one hand, or to Venus, Silenus, or 
 still lower divinities on the other, — whether it was 
 an impulse entirely spontaneous, or bookish. It 
 seems more than likely that in his reading Milton 
 had found suggested to him in the character of 
 Comus a type of the insinuating sensuality so re- 
 pugnant to his own clean nature. 
 
 At any rate, there is at least one work with 
 which Milton might have come into contact, the 
 Comus * of Puteanus, which was probably written 
 in 1608. A second edition was printed in 161 1 in 
 Louvain; and another edition came out in Oxford 
 in 1634. 
 
 If Milton owes anything to this work, it is, as has 
 been said, a suggestion only. It is, however, at 
 very least, a matter of interest to consider for a 
 moment a literary work called Comus, whose ap- 
 pearance in England in the year of the presenta- 
 tion of Milton's mask is such a striking coincidence. 
 The Comus in question is a long and rather tedious 
 Latin composition in prose, interspersed with verse, 
 by a Dutch writer, Hendrik van der Putten, a pro- 
 fessor of Eloquence at the university of Louvain. 
 The work is in the familiar form of a dream. The 
 author is carried in vision to the Cimmerian regions 
 
 * The full title of the book is Comus \ sive Phagesiposia Citn- 
 meria. Somnium. The copy that I have used makes part of a 
 collection of satires, bearing date 1655. 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to the palace of Comus, where a banquet (Phagesi- 
 posia) is held. Pleasures and passions are among 
 the riotous guests, and the ideals of the hermaphro- 
 dite Comus {Panels: to turn Voluptatis regnum 
 meum est; nee felix quisquam, nisi, qui meus) are 
 duly insisted upon. An old man, Tabutius, seeks 
 to expose the hollowness of these ideals of delight, 
 and discusses at great length the significance of the 
 several vices. When Tabutius finally ceases to ex- 
 pound, the dreamer awakes. 
 
 It is obvious that nothing of the plot of Milton's 
 Comus came from this work, which is neither an 
 orderly narrative nor a well-arranged dialogue. 
 Comus, the main character, is really kept in the 
 background while the other characters talk pe- 
 dantically. At most, Milton may have read the 
 work, approved its underlying idea, and have 
 recognized in its title figure a personage possible 
 to treat more fully, or more effectively. And 
 thus he was provided with an inspiring suggestion, 
 which in due time he would work out in his own 
 way. So much and no more may be accounted 
 the debt of Milton to the Comus of Puteanus. 
 
 There was another portrayal of the god Comus 
 that was still more easily accessible to Milton : Ben 
 Jonson's mask Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue 
 (1619). This mask had as one of its principal 
 figures Comus himself; not the rather subtle 
 Comus of the Phagesiposia, but a rollicking god of 
 good eating and abundant drinking, a ' belly-god/ 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVll 
 
 This character has practically nothing in common 
 with Milton's Comus, and the whole mask could 
 have had very little direct effect on Milton,* as the 
 following analysis will show. The scene is the 
 base of Mt. Atlas. Comus rides in in triumph, • to 
 a wild music of cymbals, flutes and tabors/ His 
 attendants sing a boisterous song of praise, — chiefly 
 of Comus's culinary exploits. The Bowlbearer of 
 Hercules in a free and easy way comments face- 
 tiously on the qualities of Comus, and on the power 
 of hard drinkers to transform themselves into drink- 
 ing vessels. This speech serves to introduce the 
 antimask, a dance of men ' in the shape of bottles, 
 tuns, etc' Hercules enters, and denounces the 
 merrymakers for abusing the wine that should be 
 the reward of thirsty heroes. The Comus rout 
 vanishes, and there appear Pleasure and Virtue and 
 
 *The final song in Jonson's mask, however, is more in accord 
 with the spirit of Milton than the commentators seem to have 
 noticed. These lines upon Virtue might readily find a place in 
 Comus: — 
 
 4 She, she it is in darkness shines, 
 'Tis she that still herself refines, 
 By her own light to every eye ; 
 More seen, more known, when Vice stands by : 
 And though a stranger here on earth, 
 In heaven she hath her right of birth. 
 
 * There, there is Virtue's seat : 
 Strive to keep her your own ; 
 'Tis only she can make you great, 
 Though place here make you known.' 
 
XVU1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 their attendants, who sing a short ode in praise of 
 Hercules, urging him to sleep after his labors. Im- 
 mediately follows a second antimask, this time of 
 pigmies, who, seeing Hercules asleep, determine to 
 capture him. Before doing it, however, they dis- 
 play in a pigmy dance their pigmy joy over their 
 coming triumph. The music awakens Hercules, 
 and the pigmies run to their holes. Mercury ap- 
 pears : he crowns Hercules with a garland of pop- 
 lar, and declares that this night Pleasure is recon- 
 ciled to Virtue. A song of the followers of Pleas- 
 ure and Virtue succeeds, and the wise Dsedalus 
 enters to give them laws. Three songs from him 
 follow, interspersed with dances of the maskers, 
 the songs interpreting the significance of the dances. 
 Then Mercury sums up the meaning of the mask, 
 in a song, of which the lines to Virtue (quoted 
 above) are a part. The mask ends in another 
 dance. 
 
 Putting this into a compacter form will show the 
 proportions of a typical mask, so far as poetry and 
 dancing are concerned. 
 
 f Song (Chorus) 
 Comus scene \ Speech (comic) 
 
 (^ Antimask (Dance) 
 
 f Speech (serious) 
 
 Hercules scene j iTtfJaik^ialogue and Dance) 
 L Song (Chorus) 
 
 ,, ( Speech (serious) 
 
 Mercury scene -j g £ ng ^ hons) 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 f Dialogue 
 I Song (Solo) 
 I Dance 
 Daedalus scene \ Song (Solo) 
 
 Dance 
 
 Song (Solo) 
 
 Dance 
 
 Mercury scene { ^ e (Sol ° and Ch ° rUs) 
 
 A word as to the elaborate stage-arrangements 
 should now be added. Ben Jonson's own stage 
 directions will serve better than a paraphrase : 
 
 ' The Scene was the Mountain Atlas, who had his 
 top ending in the figure of an old man, his head 
 and beard all hoary, and frost, as if his shoulders 
 were covered with snow: the rest wood and rock. 
 A grove of ivy at his feet. . . 
 
 - At this the Grove and Antimask vanished, and 
 the whole Music was discovered, sitting at the foot 
 of the mountain, with Pleasure and Virtue seated 
 above them. 
 
 ' Here the whole choir of music called the twelve 
 Maskers came forth from the top of the mountain, 
 which then opened. . . 
 
 * After which, they danced their last Dance, and 
 returned into the scene, which closed, and was a 
 mountain again, as before.' 
 
 There are, however, two pieces of work to which 
 Milton is, in some measure, indebted: Peele's The 
 Old Wives' Tale (1595) and Fletcher's The Faith- 
 ful Shepherdess (probably 1608), in neither of 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which is Comus a character.* In the case of the 
 former play, Milton's obligation seems obvious. 
 Some of the important situations in Comus are to 
 be found in Peele. The actual play of The Old 
 Wives' Tale is preceded by an Induction (cf. The 
 Taming of the Shrew). Three men are lost in a 
 wood ; to them appears a smith, who takes them to 
 his cottage, where his wife begins to tell them a 
 story of a king's daughter who was stolen away by 
 a conjurer, and the princess's brothers went in 
 search her — at this point in the dame's story the 
 Brothers themselves enter, and act out the story 
 with the other characters in it, while Madge and 
 her guests look on and make occasional com- 
 ments. 
 
 * As to the characters in Comus in general: Milton did not 
 invent Circe ; but we need not suppose that he was indebted to 
 every predecessor who had spoken of Circe, from Homer down. 
 Milton found Circe in the Odyssey, as did others, and it is only a 
 general likeness to other treatments of Circe that makes us even 
 mention Spenser (F. Q. xii, 42-87, — a passage in which the Circe 
 incident is allegorically presented) and Browne, whose Inner 
 Temple Mask (1615) contains an antimask of Circe's transformed 
 followers. Browne's mask was not printed until a century and a 
 half afterward, however. The character of the Attendant Spirit 
 is hardly distinctive enough to incite us to a search for an original; 
 and the Lady and her two brothers were living persons. It may 
 be said here, — practically every editor has said it, — that the 
 tradition that the mask grew out of the actual loss of the children 
 in the forest, bears every mark of being apocryphal. The tradi- 
 tion almost certainly grew out of the mask, not the mask out of 
 the tradition. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxi 
 
 The play that now follows has many poetic mo- 
 ments, but its plot is rambling and incoherent: the 
 scenes are short and choppy (indeed there is no 
 real division into scenes or acts), and the various 
 threads of the story are not woven together well. 
 The main figure is Sacrapant, a magician who has 
 cast his evil spells over several persons who appear 
 in the plot. He himself can die only by the hand 
 of a dead man, and his charms can be overcome 
 only when his magic ' light ' is extinguished. This 
 light he keeps underground in a glass which can 
 be broken only by a woman ' that's neither wife, 
 widow, nor maid.' Sacrapant is the son of Meroe, 
 a witch, from whom he learned 
 
 ' To change and alter shapes of mortal men.' 
 
 More out of love than malice, he has stolen away 
 Delia, the king's daughter, who seems certainly to 
 be very submissive, although Sacrapant declares 
 that from her grow all his sorrows. In search of 
 Delia come her two brothers, whom the sorcerer 
 easily enslaves, and sets to digging, placing them 
 under the goad of Delia, who has been newly 
 charmed into forgetfulness of her relatives. 
 Huanebango, a grotesque braggart knight, accom- 
 panied by a clown, Corebus, comes also in search of 
 the ' sore sorcerer and mighty magician ' to win 
 'this lady' (presumably Delia) ; Sacrapant with a 
 word leaves him lifeless, and strikes Corebus blind. 
 
XX11 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Eumenides, the lover of Delia, comes last, and suc- 
 ceeds, through the help of the Ghost of Jack. Jack 
 comes into the plot thus: — the churchwarden and 
 the sexton had refused to bury Jack, because he had 
 left no money to defray the expenses of digging a 
 grave ; Eumenides, with almost his last penny, pays 
 for the burial; and the grateful ghost accompanies 
 him as a servant, filling his purse for him at the 
 Hostess's inn. Sacrapant had also used his arts 
 upon a young lover, Erestus, whom he changed 
 into a bear by night, and a prophetic old man by 
 day ; Venelia, Erestus's wedded wife, going mad in 
 consequence. (This story is unrelated to the story 
 of the abduction of Delia.) When . Sacrapant is 
 killed by a dead man's hand (Jack's) the magic 
 light is extinguished by Venelia (neither wife, 
 widow, nor maid). During the play, Erestus 
 gives oracular advice to anyone who will listen to 
 it ; and out of this grows a sub-plot : Lampriscus, a 
 discontented neighbor, wants to know what to do 
 with his two daughters, one fair but curst, the other 
 foul. Erestus advises him to send them to the Well 
 of Life, where they shall ' find their fortunes un- 
 looked for.' The daughters, Zantippa and Celanta, 
 proceed to the Well, from which arises a Head, 
 whose mysterious promises are received well and 
 ill by Celanta and Zantippa, respectively. Huane- 
 bango, who has been brought to the Well, and re- 
 stored to life, but not to hearing, is won by the 
 fair but ill-spoken Zantippa ; and the blind Corebus 
 
INTRODUCTION. XX111 
 
 is captivated by the affable but ugly Celanta. 
 Twice, Harvestmen, who have nothing to do with 
 the story, pass across the empty stage, singing. 
 
 It will be seen that this play, as a whole, has not 
 very much in common with Comus; but that there 
 is nevertheless a relationship: mainly, of course, in 
 the situation of a lady in the power of an enchanter, 
 from whose power she is rescued by magical as- 
 sistance. Incidentally, the two brothers; the man 
 who gives advice, and the spirit who gives super- 
 natural aid; and an address to Echo: are common 
 to the two dramas. Entirely aside from the non- 
 related parts, which comprise most of Peele's play, 
 the common parts have points of unlikeness: the 
 enchanter dpes not tempt the lady ; she does not re- 
 sist his orders; the brothers do not free her; Jack 
 is seeking to help Eumenides rather than to free 
 Delia; the sorcerer is killed; the release of those 
 bound by the charm is not a supernatural doing; 
 the one who advises the brothers is not the one 
 who gives supernatural aid; the brothers speak, 
 not sing, to Echo. 
 
 Milton's plot is a better piece of mechanism, and 
 shows better the relation of cause and effect, than 
 does Peek's plot, but the latter moves faster and ac- 
 complishes more, as is sufficiently shown by the 
 fact that Comus has 1032 lines, against 964 in The 
 Old Wives' Tale (Bullen's edition). 
 
 A scheme of the plot will show all of the simi- 
 larities and many of the differences: 
 
XXIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Induction. 
 
 Sacrapant 
 (who only 
 slightly re- 
 sembles Com- 
 us), has work- 
 ed his spells 
 upon 
 
 Outside of the 
 baleful influ- 
 ence of Sacra- 
 pant are 
 
 Three men lost in a wood. 
 
 Madge tells two of them the 
 
 . story of Delia and Sacrapant. 
 
 Delia (resembles the Lady but 
 slightly), who is carried away 
 to Sacrapant' s home. In search 
 of her come— 
 
 her Two BROTHERS (not 
 like the Brothers of the 
 Lady). They are enslaved 
 by Sacrapant, goaded by 
 Delia (under effect of a 
 potion). All three released 
 when spell is broken. 
 
 EUMENIDES, her lover, who 
 employs Ghost of Jack 
 (barest resemblance to At- 
 tendant Spirit), by whose 
 aid Sacrapant is overcome 
 and killed. Eumenides 
 wins Delia. 
 
 HUANEBANGO, who is 
 
 struck dead by Sacrapant, 
 but afterward is revived, 
 and becomes husband of 
 Zantippa. His clown, Cor- 
 ebus, becomes husband of 
 Celanta. 
 
 ERESTUS (only slightly re- 
 sembles Attendant Spirit). 
 Changed into an old man by 
 day, a bear by night. Advises 
 passers-by. Finally restored to 
 his wife, Venelia, who has been 
 driven mad. She breaks the 
 glass, extinguishes the light, 
 and thus breaks the charm. 
 
 Lampriscus, whose two daugh- 
 ters, at Erestus' advice, are sent 
 to the Well, where they win 
 husbands. 
 
 The Churchwarden and Sex- 
 ton, who refuse to bury Jack's 
 body. 
 
 The Hostess, who prepares 
 dinner for Eumenides. 
 
 The Harvestmen, who sing 
 . two songs. 
 
 The Lady and 
 her Brothers are 
 lost in a wood. 
 
 The Lady is led 
 away by Comus. 
 Her Brothers 
 search for her. 
 The Lady is re- 
 leased by Sa- 
 brina. 
 
 Comus is over- 
 come by aid of 
 At tend, ant Spir- 
 it \ but escapes. 
 
 Sabrina breaks 
 the charm. 
 
 Fletcher's The Faithful Shepherdess was written 
 about 1608, and was revived in 1633. What Mil- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 ton may have owed to this ' pastoral tragi-comedy ' 
 is rather a question of style and of underlying 
 spirit than of incident; although the river god's 
 rescue of the wounded virgin who has been flung 
 into the stream to drown, and the aid rendered 
 virgins in distress by the shepherdess who knows 
 how to prepare, simples against hurts and evil 
 charms, resemble clearly Sabrina's rescue of the 
 Lady. The entire pastoral, most of it charming, 
 consists of variations on one theme, the praise of 
 virginity and chaste love; and this, of course, is 
 closely akin to the theme of Comus, which deals, 
 however, with but one phase of the subject, the 
 power of chastity to protect itself from evil, and 
 does not touch upon the subject of love at all. Sev- 
 eral ideas, comparisons, and expressions in The 
 Faithful Shepherdess, and at least one passage of 
 some length, find an echo * in Comas. The last 
 two hundred lines of the mask resemble the beau- 
 tifully cadenced Fletcherian verse, and hold their 
 own in comparison with it. 
 
 The barest outline of the story of the play will 
 suffice, as the details of its plot could have given 
 Milton but little assistance. Clorin, a shepherdess, 
 faithful to the memory of her dead lover, dwells by 
 his tomb, and gathers herbs of virtuous powers, 
 thereby to cure those who need her ministrations. 
 The love affairs of the shepherds and shepherdesses 
 
 * Cf. F. S. I. i. 111-127 and Com. 420-437 ; F. S. I. i. 29- 
 40 and Com, 620-628 ; F. S. I. i. 58-61 and Com. 265-268. 
 
xxvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 run in varying fortune through the play, and those 
 who are chaste or chastened are aided by Clorin's 
 ' virgin's hand.' Amoret, a shepherdess loved by 
 Perigot, has undeserved ill-fortune, and twice is 
 wounded and restored to health, finally coming 
 safely to her lover. It is she whom the river god 
 rescues. The other characters, good and bad, but 
 all lovers, come to their proper fate. Not in plot, 
 then, but in general theme, the play and the mask 
 have something in common; evidently Milton 
 had read carefully the beautiful pastoral play of 
 Fletcher's. 
 
 One may sum up by saying that Milton's indebt- 
 edness to his predecessors was not very great. The 
 deepest thought of Comus was his own ; from Pu- 
 teanus he may have gained a fertile suggestion for 
 a chief character; from Peele an incident or two; 
 from Fletcher a stirring impulse toward the poetic 
 treatment of a somewhat similar subject; from 
 Browne's mask a hint for an antimask ; from Spen- 
 ser a warrant for such allegorical treatment as 
 might be desired; and from Jonson's mask practi- 
 cally nothing. Comus is essentially Milton's own; 
 there is no bodily transference of good things that 
 belong to someone else : but there is a working over 
 of a not unfamiliar situation, and a complete trans- 
 mutation of all the material into a new whole that 
 means Milton in faults and virtues both, but virtues 
 most. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxvil 
 
 THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MASK. 
 
 The mask is a form of entertainment, in part 
 dramatic, but having as its main feature dancing, 
 with music, poetry, elaborate costuming, and spec- 
 tacular effects, as highly important accessories. 
 Two main sources may have nearly equally con- 
 tributed to its splendor : the English mummings and 
 disguisings, and the Italian spectacles involving 
 pastoral poetry, allegory and elaborate properties. 
 The word mask itself seems to be Arabic, — mean- 
 ing originally a jester, a masquerader, — coming 
 into English through the Italian. At a time when 
 the word was establishing itself in English usage 
 Ben Jonson rather contemptuously hints that it is 
 only a fashionable way of speaking of disguisings. 
 Let us look briefly at these two strains, English and 
 Italian, which doubtless have united in the mask, 
 whose perfect form shows best in Jonson himself. 
 
 As early as the fourteenth century England seems 
 to have had memorable entertainments, participated 
 in by persons in fancy dress. The exact nature of 
 these affairs we do not know. Doubtless they took 
 place upon festivals of one sort or another, when 
 the change from conventional dress would add 
 brightness and gayety to the occasion; and doubt- 
 less, too, dancing was a part of the festivity. Such 
 disguisings probably implied no masks (vizors), but 
 only fancy dress. Toward the beginning of the 
 
xxvili INTRODUCTION. 
 
 next century there were also dumb shows in cos- 
 tume, performed in honor of royalty, and accom- 
 panied, undoubtedly, by a good deal of display. 
 Things of this sort are very simple in nature, and 
 very crude as a matter of art; but they indicate a 
 tendency, apart from drama, to combine merry- 
 making with spectacular effect, — and this means 
 in time a taste for what we now call private the- 
 atricals, a taste that almost explains the seven- 
 teenth century mask. A fondness for processions, 
 also, is still an English trait, and, in its measure, 
 contributed to the encouragement of unwonted dis- 
 play upon ceremonial occasions. The point to no- 
 tice, however, is that long before the mask as a form 
 had gained its limited hold in England, there had 
 existed an entertainment involving the persons to 
 be entertained. In other words, those who could 
 afford it had learned to amuse themselves and their 
 guests by the lively and pretty device of dancing 
 in costume, either with or without impersonation. 
 All of this was as yet not literary, or but slightly 
 so. How long it would have taken the costumed 
 dance or the simple dumb-show to develop into a 
 spoken dramatic form is impossible to say. Many 
 of the disguisings may have been part of an even- 
 ing's entertainment in which an interlude or play 
 was the more elaborate amusement, and a fusion 
 of the two forms of entertainment might have come 
 in time. Undoubtedly disguisings grew in popu- 
 larity at court and among the nobility, especially in 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxix 
 
 the time of Henry VIII. ; and a literary treatment 
 of them would, in all probability, have ensued. 
 
 As it happened, however, the influence of Italy 
 meant, among other things, a transplanting in 
 England of an artistic form, called mask, already 
 further developed than the English disguising. 
 This form appeared in England in the sixteenth 
 century, and grew rapidly in favor because the time 
 was ripe for it. In brief it is the old story of a 
 natural development pointing pretty directly to a 
 certain result, and the arrival, from the outside, of a 
 suitable form which immediately absorbs the tend- 
 ency and gives to the product a vogue whose credit 
 belongs perhaps equally to the old tendency and 
 to the new form. It is more or less futile to try to 
 apportion the exact credit due each force. As else- 
 where, so here, the vague desire for the perfect form 
 was evident, the form appeared, the spirit entered 
 it, and the creation lived. Ben Jonson was right 
 when he called mask and disguising synonymous, — 
 right because the mask was nothing entirely new 
 and strange. But others were right too, when they 
 called it Italian, because it was the Italian influence 
 which took the cruder form and, by making it art- 
 istic, gave it vogue. 
 
 What was the Italian mask then ? Simply a much 
 more elaborate and artistic display, which had ac- 
 quired form and literary quality. The Renaissance 
 had given to Italy an appreciation of beauty that 
 could not be restrained within classic limits. Revi- 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 vals of Plautine comedy were accompanied by elabo- 
 rate interlude-dances, and the extraneous thing out- 
 shone the essential thing. Entertainments of gor- 
 geous spectacular effect had a wider appeal than 
 more intellectual forms of art; and there developed 
 a species of brilliant show, in the form of a courtly 
 festival allegory (or a moving triumphal proces- 
 sion), which for its adequate interpretation called 
 in the aid of verse. These brilliant affairs, calling 
 for great outlay of money, became the delight of 
 noble families and of municipalities, and were 
 far out of the range of mere private means. 
 They developed faster in Italy than in England, only 
 because of the quicker recognition in the Romance 
 nation of the charm and the artistic possibilities of 
 beautiful spectacle. 
 
 So it was, doubtless, as. a much admired and ex- 
 travagant fashion that the Italian mask, — vizor, 
 dance, costume, stage mechanism and all, — was 
 transplanted to England: only a disguising, but 
 yet a disguising far more brilliant and well ordered 
 than the native one. Here was, indeed, an oppor- 
 tunity for wealthy noblemen who were not to be 
 limited by mere expense when a seemingly new 
 pleasure was ready to be added to the court-life of 
 merry England. 
 
 It was a graft on a congenial stock, for England 
 also had its artist. Ben Jonson saw and seized the 
 possibilities of the mask and made it a thing of lit- 
 erature, — thus saving it, indeed ; for as an enter- 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxi 
 
 tainment it could never be popular, in the real sense 
 of the word. It was for the few, and a thing of the 
 passing moment; by a rare insight and power Jon- 
 son wrote it for the few and for the moment, but 
 did it so well that his masks remain, not as enter- 
 tainments, but as literature for the many and for 
 no brief time. 
 
 But the species could not last. It was essentially 
 artificial, — supplying a passing pleasure, not a real 
 need. Having no wide range, it must have become 
 monotonous in time, and once dropped could hardly 
 be revived. A simpler reason disposed of it in Eng- 
 land, however : the time of the Commonwealth was 
 no time for extravagant expenditures for the sake 
 of complimenting any man. But the mask as a 
 species could not have developed in any event. So 
 far as it was an amateur production (and in most 
 part it was), so far its possibilities were limited. 
 For the form, slight as it was, demanded that its 
 presenters act, sing, and dance. In a mild way 
 these things are easy ; but so long as they are made 
 easy, so long there can be no pushing of the form's 
 capabilities to their limit. This could only be at- 
 tained by excellent acting, singing, dancing; and 
 these things together few amateurs are fully capa- 
 ble^. 
 
 And if the presentation had become professional, 
 instead of remaining in statu quo, a still more curi- 
 ous result would have been manifested. For a 
 professional would pretty surely have developed one 
 
XXXii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of these arts, not all, and the presenters would in 
 time have sacrificed one accomplishment and then 
 another to the final one, which would have been 
 fully developed. What would the mask have then 
 become? If the professional performers had devel- 
 oped dancing, the ballet; if singing, the opera; if 
 acting, the drama. Thus the composite form is 
 shown to be in a state of arrested development, with 
 no real chance of growth. And such a form, after 
 all, can never be a perfect expression of the greatest 
 genius. 
 
 COMUS AS A MASK. 
 
 All masks are not alike, and a definition must de- 
 pend partly upon the elements of those entertain- 
 ments that go by the name of mask; and partly 
 upon the purpose of a mask as revealed by a study 
 of its historical development. We find then that 
 dancing seems to be the basis of the entertainment, 
 and that spectacular display, singing, poetry, and 
 dramatic incident serve in their ways to bring out 
 the full grace and meaning of the occasion. The 
 occasion we find to be not one of mere general 
 amusement, but usually one of particular honor to 
 some one person. Those who took the graceful 
 parts in the mask were themselves guests of the 
 occasion, but professional actors were sometimes 
 called in to play the comic or grotesque parts in the 
 antimask. A mask ought obviously not to be too 
 dramatic, — that is, a vivid treatment of a strong 
 
IN TROD UCTIOAt. xxxiil 
 
 dramatic situation would be out of keeping with the 
 pleasantly artificial, not to say dilettante, air of the 
 whole thing. The elements of a mask are these, — 
 dancing, beautiful costumes and stage settings, sing- 
 ing, acting of not too , strenuous a type, and the 
 compliment, either expressed or implied, to the 
 honored person. 
 
 The subjects best fitted for this sort of thing were 
 obviously those that permitted the necessary alle- 
 gory, which might be slight or deep, but must be 
 obvious; and such subjects were readily found in 
 conventional mythology and pastoral poetry. The 
 stock figures of Greek mythology and some of the 
 figures of pastoral idyls found, therefore; place in 
 the mask, and convenient personifications not classi- 
 cal even more readily came into the dramatis per- 
 sonae. Variety and novelty were gained rather 
 through new dances, new costumes, new scenery, 
 new music, than through new conceptions of the 
 nature and purpose of the species. Indeed, the 
 spirit of it all, — that of courtly compliment, — had 
 perforce to remain essentially the same. New 
 names and new subjects, of course, there constantly 
 were, but even these could not materially alter the 
 real tendency of the story. Ultimately the needed 
 variety was given by the introduction of a new and 
 seemingly incongruous element. The antimask * 
 
 * Variously derived from ante-mask, a preliminary mask; anti- 
 mask, a foil-mask ; and antick-mask, a mask of anticks. The 
 second and third derivations are more probable than the first. 
 
XxxiV IN TROD UCTION. 
 
 was a more or less grotesque dance of strange or 
 comic personages, with or without appropriate dia- 
 logue and song. The costumes and characters 
 were at first all alike; but variety soon came in 
 here as well. The range pf this new part of the 
 mask was very great, of course ; some of it is mere 
 buffoonery; some of it is excellent comedy; and 
 while all of it is lower in tone, grace, and beauty 
 than the actual mask, in variety, novelty, and jollity, 
 it doubtless proved its right to exist. That the anti- 
 mask need have no integral relation to the rest of 
 the plot is both for and against the new addition, 
 which gave a wider variety at the expense of unity 
 of effect. 
 
 The poet's share in all this, is, as seems obvious, 
 not exactly the lion's share: a mask might fairly 
 well accomplish its purpose even if its poetry were 
 poor — the genial mood of the spectators would take 
 the spirit at more than face value ; on the other 
 hand a charming poetic framework would not be 
 enough to give success to an ill-mounted spectacle. 
 Ben Jonson, in asserting the real claim of the poet 
 to the first place, spoke with the ardor of an artist 
 who loves his art, and set forth an ideal which he 
 himself could live up to. But in all seriousness it 
 must be admitted that the exigencies of the masks 
 do not require as good poetry as Jonson put into 
 them ; that he gave overflowing measure of poetical 
 quality is sheer gain. If Shirley's mask, The Tri- 
 umph of Peace, is stupid to read, it must, neverthe- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXV 
 
 less, have been gorgeous to see and hear, and prob- 
 ably thoroughly satisfied all but a few of the spec- 
 tators. Jonson's masks were varied enough in ap- 
 peal to hit the general taste ; beyond and above that, 
 the peculiarly beautiful poetry of them must have 
 made its appeal to the finest taste in his audiences. 
 He gave more than the artistic species required, 
 without being able essentially to develop the species 
 itself. But nothing beautiful is wasted if it can be 
 saved beyond the moment for which it was too 
 good: Jonson's masks are a part of permanent 
 literature. 
 
 Is Co mus a good mask? It has been praiseH by 
 most persons as the best of all the masks. This 
 estimate, one may say immediately, is inaccurate and 
 undiscriminating. That Co mus contains loftier 
 poetry than may be found in other masks is doubt- 
 less true ; but that this makes it a better mask does 
 not follow. It is a good mask, beyond question, 
 for it has the main elements of the mask, and has 
 them in a proportion not unfitting to the occasion. 
 The dances are sufficiently varied, — a graceful 
 dance of those of noble birth, an antimask of 
 Comus's crew, and a dance of villagers — in reality a 
 second antimask; the songs are varied, although 
 there is no chorus where one might be looked for 
 (at the rustic festivities) ; the costuming presents 
 good opportunities, the actual masking admirable 
 opportunities ; the three stage settings, — of the 
 wood, the palace, and the peculiarly effective presen- 
 
XXXVI IN TROD UCTION. 
 
 tation of a view outside of the castle itself within 
 which the performance took place, — give excellent 
 scope to the scenic artist ; the antimask grows natu- 
 rally out of the mask itself; and the direct compli- 
 ment to the Earl and the implied compliment of the 
 whole mask are effectively made. Add to these 
 things the charm of beautiful poetry and beautiful 
 music, and we have many things to the credit of the 
 mask Comus. 
 
 On the other hand, it is equally obvious that 
 Comus lacks liveliness, and makes its moral over- 
 emphatic, so far as artistic purposes are concerned. 
 The speeches may have dragged a little in spite of 
 their noble poetry. One may safely say then, that 
 Comus is a good mask, but not an ideal one, not as 
 good a mask as are several of Jonson's ; but that 
 if it had been a better mask it would have been by 
 so much the less the Comus we have learned to care 
 for. Milton's mask was nobler than the occasion 
 demanded; but fortunate the literature whose pro- 
 ducers do more than is asked. To make real litera- 
 ture is an ample reward for having evaded perfect 
 success in a partly non-literary species. 
 
 In saying that Comus is not as sprightly a mask 
 as are Jonson's (and this is its main defect), one is 
 not repeating the old charge that Comus is not es- 
 sentially dramatic. It is not essentially dramatic, 
 indeed, but there is no reason why it should be. In 
 looking at the dramatic structure of Comus then, 
 our purpose is as much to perceive how far a mask 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxvn 
 
 may ignore dramatic values, as to see how far it 
 observes them. In this way, it may be said in 
 passing, we may not only understand a mask better, 
 but may more fully realize just what has been ac- 
 complished by a playwright who works in the purely 
 dramatic field. If we understand how little was 
 required of Milton we may appreciate how much 
 was required of Shakspeare. 
 
 The plan of Comns is simple ; adequate to afford 
 dramatic opportunities, if these are desired, but not 
 demanding dramatic treatment if this is not desired. 
 The difference between a truly dramatic treatment 
 and a semi-dramatic or non-dramatic treatment, lies 
 not merely in making the scenes vividly interesting 
 or exciting, but also, and perhaps chiefly, in provid- 
 ing adequate motives for all that happens. To make 
 an interesting incident seem natural and effective, 
 and to lead up to it convincingly, is to come to the 
 heart of dramatic action. So far as pure dramatic 
 treatment is concerned, Milton contents himself 
 with making a situation fairly plausible, without 
 making its climax inevitable, or exhausting its 
 dramatic possibilities. In other words, he treats his 
 subject as a mask and not as a drama; he makes a 
 good mask and not a perfect one; and seizes an - op- 
 portunity for the charming poetic utterance of a 
 favorite doctrine, not immediately determined by 
 the occasion, nor even unusually appropriate to it. 
 The thing that is before him to do, he does well; 
 the thing that was not before him, he does superbly. 
 
XXXVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The plot of Comus involves several situations 
 which Milton easily states rather than logically leads 
 up to; whose general bearing he makes clear, but 
 whose detailed and separate dramatic moments he 
 makes little attempt to exploit. For example, the 
 Lady is alone, as she must be, in order to make pos- 
 sible the following scene with Comus ; but why is 
 the Lady alone? Milton's reason, that both broth- 
 ers have gone in search of relief, is not a good one 
 unless we are to regard the brothers as thoughtless ; 
 but obviously we are not expected so to regard 
 them, and so the Lady's solitariness is not dramati- 
 cally justified. We are ready to take the situation 
 for granted only because we are not inquisitive as 
 to motives in a mask. Again, the song of the Lady, 
 to take a moment within this scene, is explained 
 readily by the lady herself: 
 
 ' I cannot hallo to my brothers, but 
 Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 
 I'll venture/ 
 
 This is entirely satisfactory in a mask, of course: 
 we are ready to hear a song, and here is an oppor- 
 tunity to put one in. But if it were a drama, we 
 should ask : Does any girl sing when, being in dan- 
 ger, she wishes to call for aid? Does she so easily 
 satisfy herself that there is no danger? Is singing 
 heard farther than a cry? Would this particular 
 song have been improvised by one in such a po- 
 sition? In asking these questions, which are, of 
 
IN TROD UCTION. xxxix 
 
 course, absurd to ask, my purpose is not to show 
 Milton in the least at fault, but to indicate that this 
 situation, which passes unnoticed in Comus, would 
 not pass unnoticed in Romeo and Juliet, and that 
 therefore a mask has not the same requirements that 
 a drama has. So far then from being at fault, Mil- 
 ton is quite right in going to no more trouble to 
 prove his case than his auditors require. In a 
 fairy tale, ' Once upon a time ' sufficiently dates the 
 story ; in an anecdote of real life this easy and con- 
 venient chronology will not serve. All of this is 
 perhaps too patent to discuss; but it seems worth 
 while to show that the only partly dramatic method 
 of Comus is entirely reasonable as the method of a 
 mask. 
 
 The opening speech of the mask Comus is ad- 
 dressed mainly to the audience, and is epic in char- 
 acter, rather than dramatic: that is, the Attendant 
 Spirit tells us things that could have been brought 
 out in action. Compare with this the opening scene 
 of Romeo and Juliet, which shows in visible action 
 the quarreling houses of Montague and Capulet. 
 To make the contrast sharper, note the speech of 
 Chorus before the Shakespearean play begins — it 
 is interesting, but unnecessary; and very tame in 
 comparison with the movement of the first scene 
 itself. Now the opening of Comus is in the man- 
 ner of the extra-dramatic Chorus, not in the manner 
 of the dramatic scene. Note again the beginning of 
 Julius Ccesar, The Merchant of Venice, Hamlet; 
 
xl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the things that it is necessary for us to know imme- 
 diately are presented in dialogue and action, not in 
 mere narrative monologue. Even where Shakes- 
 peare begins with a monologue, as he does in Rich- 
 ard III., he uses it to reveal character, not to take 
 the place of action, which speedily follows in vivid 
 dialogue.* This opening speech of Comns is typi- 
 cal of the whole mask, — slow moving, only slightly 
 dramatic, charmingly conceived, beautifully worded, 
 — poetry carelessly wearing the drama's robe but 
 not assuming the drama's functions. 
 
 One other situation may be discussed briefly, — the 
 Lady has been freed from the power of Comus and 
 released from her ' fixed and motionless ' position, 
 through the several efforts of the Brothers, the At- 
 tendant Spirit, and the nymph Sabrina. But al- 
 though she had with splendid moral and intellectual 
 power resisted the enticements of Comus, the Lady 
 has now lapsed into a mere puppet without a word 
 to say in the rest of the mask. A long speech of 
 gratitude would undoubtedly be tedious at this point 
 in the plot, but from the dramatic point of view, the 
 Lady's utter silence seems an inadequate treatment 
 of the situation.* But the mask comes the more 
 
 * The formal opening speech, or prologue, is often, however, a 
 satisfying part of Greek drama, which, owing to the continuous 
 presence of the chorus later, needed an opportunity to present 
 compactly things that could not readily be uttered in the presence 
 of the chorus. 
 
 f Comus, 942-3, suggests a reason, which, however, is not 
 adequate. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xli 
 
 readily to its cheerful end, and who has noticed — 
 much less lamented — the strange reticence of her 
 whose words a short minute before even Comus had 
 felt were ' set off by some superior power ' ? 
 
 SAMSON AGONISTES. 
 
 The dramatic structure of Samson Agonistes, 
 imitating, as it does, the structure of a Greek drama, 
 is necessarily severer and compacter, though not 
 necessarily more complicated, than that of Comus. 
 And inasmuch as, quite apart from the subject- 
 matter, a Greek tragedy is a far more serious form 
 of art than is a mask, the standard of constructive 
 technique that Milton has set for himself is perforce 
 a high one ; and it makes more difference if he does* 
 not attain it, both in general plan and in detail. 
 That the main situation as it stands in Milton's gen- 
 eral conception is ample and lofty enough to meet 
 the needs of the form, there can be no real doubt. 
 The magnitude of the issue, the depth of the suf- 
 fering, the strength and sweep of the passion, — 
 these are qualities that both in seriousness and im- 
 portance fitly place Samson Agonistes in a form of 
 art that gave adequate scope to the genius of 
 Sophocles. Of course, the immense difference will 
 always remain, that to the Greek tragic dramatists 
 the choral tragedy was a practicable art, — the 
 dramas were written to be acted, — while to Milton 
 the form was one of past greatness, not, save in a 
 
xlii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 spiritual sense, a form of present dramatic possi- 
 bilities. 
 
 Practically, such a difference works out in this 
 way : those who wrote when the art flourished ac- 
 commodated their work to what had to be; recon- 
 structors of an antique form accommodate their 
 work to their notions of what must have been. Al- 
 most inevitably in the re-creation, the vitality of the 
 form itself is impaired, although the vitality of the 
 underlying spirit may not essentially suffer. The 
 mechanical points in the form may be observed, but 
 the stimulus that a living form gives is lacking. In 
 imitating the virtues of a bygone species, an artist 
 uses no small part of his energy in the mere adher- 
 ence to rule, in the avoidance of faults ; the very na- 
 ture of the case prohibits him from attempting that 
 supreme thing in literary creation, the invention of 
 new possibilities in the form of expression he hap- 
 pens to be using. To attempt more than imitation 
 with the form, without the possibility of practical 
 test of its efficiency, is to direct one's force into the 
 air. And this, therefore, makes one's particular 
 success lie in some one else's formula, and not in 
 one's own. ^Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Mar- 
 lowe, Shakespeare, Jonson, each made the mere 
 form he used do more for him than it had done for 
 others; at best, Milton in Samson Agonistes could 
 only imitate the best form that some one else had 
 established. It is safe to say, then, that a perfect 
 poise of great thought and great form may hardly 
 
IN TROD UCTION. xliii 
 
 be looked for in any reconstruction. The spon- 
 taneity of the living form is absent, and even won- 
 derful dexterity of an imitative kind cannot give to 
 the world the best that a creative genius has to 
 utter. 
 
 There is, perhaps, but one exception to this gen- 
 eral proposition, and that is when a great artist 
 makes subjective self expression his essential 
 theme,* and yet wishes to veil his expression, for 
 fear its literal meaning be too widely and too dan- 
 gerously apprehended ; and hence uses a past form, 
 half symbolically, rather than a present or a new 
 form. In such a case the effort of the artist is 
 partly to say a thing indirectly, and therefore that 
 
 * The personal interest that the reader of Samson Agonistes 
 feels in its author is peculiarly great. No one who knows the 
 essential facts of Milton's life can fail to feel the deep likeness, 
 as well as the superficial resemblance, between the latter days of 
 Samson and of Milton, ' blind among enemies/ The episode of 
 Dalila, too, albeit in a much less edifying way, recalls vividly 
 Milton's unfortunate first marriage. This personal interest, how- 
 ever, should not be allowed to make an allegory of the drama, 
 although here and there a passage has a double meaning. Nor 
 on the other hand should this personal element be ignored. The 
 simple fact is that the poet chose a subject that in itself called 
 for the expression of the deepest personal emotions he himself 
 had experienced ; and in writing of them, therefore, he spoke 
 with unmistakable passion. The drama is the better for it, and 
 our appreciation not less because we know the secret. In a word, 
 without regarding Samson Agonistes as something written to 
 elucidate Milton's life, we may think of Milton's life as elucidat- 
 ing his drama. 
 
xliv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 expression well suits, which enables him to avoid 
 completely committing himself and yet speaks 
 clearly enough to posterity or to a few. I believe 
 that Milton may have so conceived Samson Agon- 
 ist es; that he did not intend, as did Mathew Arnold 
 in Merope, to present a Greek tragedy in English, 
 but that he chose the Greek tragic form, because it 
 best of all the literary forms of the world had once 
 given scope to the stern and spiritual tragedy of 
 man in the hands of inevitable Fate. Thus, and 
 perhaps thus only, the antique expression might 
 again poignantly speak new things while seeming 
 but to revive magnificently the things that had long 
 ago perfectly been said. All this, of course, does 
 not essentially affect the general proposition; it 
 merely leads us again to the old truth that the form 
 must serve the thought. My point was, that no 
 writer can make an obsolete form live again as a 
 form, because art, after all, is passionately practical, 
 and craves immediate results ; but that, nevertheless, 
 a great writer may speak in a bygone form and say 
 things that are out of the scope of the form itself. 
 Thus Samson Agonistes as a Greek tragedy is a 
 great piece of work, but not a supreme piece of 
 Greek tragedy, as such ; but, also, Samson Agon- 
 istes may be a supreme personal and poetic utter- 
 ance, which happened to be spoken in the large 
 Greek cadence. 
 
 But regardless of the ultimate purpose of the 
 drama, the question of the dramatic construction 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlv 
 
 of Samson Agonistes must be considered. The 
 Greek tragic formula is essentially dramatic, 
 although not exhaustive. It eliminates many non- 
 dramatic elements, without giving scope to all the 
 possible dramatic opportunities. Even a super- 
 ficial contrasting of the Greek and the Elizabethan 
 methods will indicate clearly, even if not exactly, the 
 way in which Greek tragedy chooses a few things 
 instead of many, and develops them severely instead 
 of freely. The dramatic movement of Greek trag- 
 edy does not express itself primarily in visible ac- 
 tion. Visible the characters are, of course, but we 
 hear their motives and learn the final results of these 
 motives, rather than see the process of the deeds 
 themselves. It is the spiritual interpretation of out- 
 ward action, rather than actual outward action in- 
 viting our own interpretation. Not to attempt a 
 closer analysis, it may be said that this inward 
 action is expressed in a few scenes of concentrated 
 dialogue, each scene (or act) dealing adequately 
 wifh some all-important phase of the complete 
 action. The method involves, obviously, compara- 
 tively little action, but requires that this action shall 
 be absolutely organic. 
 
 The dramatic structure of Samson Agonistes, 
 therefore, may be held to be satisfactory, if it de- 
 velops a true dramatic movement (independent of 
 visible deeds or actions) by making all the stages 
 of that movement vital, whether they be visible 
 deeds or the no less tangible spiritual accomplish- 
 
xlvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ment. It is not necessary that there be a sequence 
 of outward events, but it is necessary that there be 
 an organic growth of spiritual passion. Does 
 Samson Agonistes fulfil this condition? 
 
 It is upon this point, needless to say to any one 
 who has glanced at Miltonic criticism, that argu- 
 ment pro and con has been urged. Johnson ob- 
 jected * that ' nothing passes between the first act 
 and the last, that either hastens or delays the death 
 of Samson ' ; and that therefore the play had a be- 
 ginning and end, but no middle. f To which Cum- 
 berland replied^ that the middle was supplied by the 
 announcement of the festival of Dagon (434-37), 
 the prophecy of Dagon's overthrow (468-71) and 
 the motive for Harapha's share in the catastrophe 
 (1250-1252). 
 
 As these two views practically represent the two 
 sides, it will be well to examine the matter more 
 closely. This is obvious : very little happens in out- 
 ward events. Samson appears; then the Chorus, 
 then Manoa, then Dalila, then Harapha, all of whom 
 talk to Samson, without action ; the Officer comes in 
 with the mandate of the lords, which Samson re- 
 sists and then acquiesces in (this is action, although 
 not of vivid dramatic quality) ; then Samson with- 
 draws, and later the Messenger announces the thrill- 
 ing tidings of his death. How far does the interme- 
 diate dialogue between the first appearance of the 
 
 * Rambler, 139. f Cf. Aristotle, Poet. vii. 3. 
 
 \ Observer^. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlvii 
 
 protagonist, and the Messenger's speech help to- 
 ward the catastrophe? With all the will in the 
 world to differ with Dr. Johnson in Miltonic criti- 
 cism, I find myself, nevertheless, in substantial 
 agreement with him so far as his immediate point 
 is concerned. It seems to me that Cumberland's 
 answer is, on the whole, a weak one; if it actually 
 be that Milton used Harapha's hatred to bring about 
 the Philistian mandate, then Milton was strangely 
 inartistic in leaving the vital dramatic point of 
 Harapha's scene unuttered, save by the Chorus after 
 Harapha has left, and then in the form of a mere 
 guess. If this be the logical " middle " of a great 
 tragedy, it is left absurdly in the dark, unemphatic, 
 indefinite. And the other two points are mere 
 statements, — one a prophecy, — which do not dra- 
 matically help on the action. The scene with 
 Dalila, — indeed all the scenes, — gives no forward 
 dramatic impulse to the sequence of events in the 
 plot. The commentators, therefore, who pin their 
 faith to the three slight statements as furnishing a 
 dramatic middle to the action are resting their case 
 upon a device that at best would only show Milton 
 an inartistic handler of plot. 
 
 Much better is the case of those who, dropping 
 the question of plot, urge the value of the inter- 
 mediate scenes as an interpretation of character. 
 But portrayal of character, of course, is only partly 
 dramatic. To be wholly dramatic, a play must in- 
 dicate character through plot. 
 
xlviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 My own notion is that Milton has really suc- 
 ceeded by a plan (conscious or unconscious with 
 him) which has imparted a true dramatic movement 
 by the very negation of positive action. In other 
 words, each one of the seemingly undramatic scenes 
 in Samson Agonistes represents a thwarted action. 
 Dalila and Harapha each seek to throw Samson in 
 another direction ; so Manoa. It is by resisting this 
 movement that Samson, seemingly therefore sta- 
 tionary, actually moves forward dramatically to- 
 ward the climax. Instead of a character moving 
 forward, against an immovable background, the 
 background retreats and the stationary character 
 at the end of the shifting is, by so much, nearer the 
 visible end of the way. But the analogy is not a 
 perfect one ; it is best to stick to the fact itself. The 
 first scene with the Chorus establishes Samson in 
 the position in which his opening soliloquy placed 
 him : the Chorus's ' apt words ' have no ' power to 
 swage the tumors of a troubled mind ' ; they bring 
 neither ' counsel ' nor ' consolation ' that actually 
 reconciles Samson to his failures. And this is the 
 Chorus's only resource. The scene with Manoa re- 
 veals Manoa's fear that ' A worse thing yet re- 
 mains ' — the ' popular feast ' of the Philistines in 
 honor of the triumph of Dagon over God ; but Sam- 
 son, at the lowest ebb of his grief, yet declares that 
 ' Dagon must stoop/ Then Manoa proposes the 
 ransom, which Samson rejects as futile. Although 
 Manoa ultimately seems to come near to accomplish- 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlix 
 
 ing this purpose, it never receives full Philistian ap- 
 proval, and thus, unaccepted by the Philistines, and 
 rejected by Samson, it is a thwarted action. The 
 scene with Dalila more conspicuously works to a 
 similar end: Dalila's attempt at reconciliation is 
 utterly contemned. The scene with Harapha dis- 
 closes not indeed a specific action averted, but does 
 show unmistakably a project that fails : Harapha, 
 coming to view Samson and to rejoice over the 
 discomfiture of the Nazarite, is himself discomfited, 
 and retires morally the loser in the war of words. 
 Thus then the forces that have endeavored to con- 
 sole, to relieve, to cajole, to insult, the fallen hero, 
 find him steadfast in his distrust of himself and in 
 his trust in his own God. The thwarted actions 
 have made Samson more than ever a solitary figure, 
 to whom only divine aid can restore the final salva- 
 tion. And therefore, life presenting nothing but 
 defeat, death offers the ultimate victory. Samson 
 comes to his own at the very end, in fulfilling the 
 divine purpose. This is the spiritual climax to- 
 ward which the whole play, seemingly motionless, 
 has been steadily advancing. In the presence of 
 this inner movement, the lack of outer movement 
 counts for nothing. Milton, with a finer artistic 
 sense than that possessed by his defenders or 
 apologists, has given us in this drama a great crisis 
 adequately led up to from an unmistakable opening 
 situation. In this sense, the drama has a beginning 
 and an end, and a middle far more important than 
 
1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that indicated by stray words which may or may 
 not have brought about a new incident in the plot. 
 The structure of the drama is adequate to accom- 
 plish its purpose. 
 
 Samson Agonistes, the work of his old age, is 
 Milton's last great message to the world, as Comus 
 was his first. Together they declare fitly the poet's 
 great doctrine of living. How to face life with a 
 pure heart, how to meet death unvanquished by 
 evil, these things the beautiful mask and the stern 
 tragedy unmistakably teach. Such a message one 
 might expect from him who served 
 
 * As ever in my great Task- Master's eye.' 
 
 
DATES IN MILTON'S LIFE. 
 
 1608. Born in London, 9 December. 
 
 1620-4. At St. Paul's school. 
 
 1625-32. At Christ's College, 'Cambridge 
 
 1632-8. At Horton. 
 
 1634. Comas presented. 
 
 1637. Lycidas published. 
 
 1638-9. Traveled in Italy. 
 
 1639. Returned to live in London. 
 
 1643. Married Mary Powell (d. 1653 or 1654). 
 
 1644. Areopagitica published. 
 
 1645. Collection of minor poems published. 
 1649. Appointed Latin Secretary to the Council 
 
 165 1. Defensio pro Popnlo Anglicano published. 
 
 1652. Blindness became complete. 
 
 1654. Joannis Miltoni Angli pro Populo Angli- 
 cano Defensio Secunda published. 
 
 1656. Married Catharine Woodstock (d. 1658). 
 
 1660. The Restoration. 
 
 1663. Married Elizabeth Minshull. 
 
 1667. Paradise Lost published. 
 
 1671. Paradise Regained and Samson Agonistes 
 published. 
 
 1673. Second edition of poems published in 1645. 
 
 1674. Died in London, 8 November. 
 
LYRIC AND DRAMATIC POEMS OF 
 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV. 
 
 This and the following Psalm were done by the Author at fifteen 
 years old. 
 
 When the blest seed of Terah's faithful son 
 After long toil their liberty had won, 
 And passed from Pharian fields to Canaan land, 
 Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand, 
 Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, 5 
 
 His praise and glory was in Israel known. 
 That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled, 
 And sought to hide his froth-becurled head 
 Low in the earth; Jordan's clear streams recoil, 
 As a faint host that hath received the foil. 10 
 
 The high huge-bellied mountains skip like rams 
 Amongst their ewes, the little hills like lambs. 
 Why fled the ocean? and why skipped the moun- 
 tains? 
 Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains? 
 Shake, Earth, and at the presence be aghast 15 
 Of Him that ever was and aye shall last, 
 That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush, 
 And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush. 
 
MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 PSALM CXXXVI. 
 
 Let us with a gladsome mind 
 Praise the Lord, for he is kind; 
 
 For his mercies aye endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
 Let us blaze his name abroad, 5 
 
 For of gods he is the God; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 O let us his praises tell, 9 
 
 That doth the wrathful tyrants quell; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 That with his miracles doth make 13 
 
 Amazed heaven and earth to shake; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 That by his wisdom did create 17 
 
 The painted heavens so full of state; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 That did the solid earth ordain 21 
 
 To rise above the watery plain; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 That by his all-commanding might 25 
 
 Did fill the new-made world with light; 
 For his, &c. 
 
PSALM CXXXVI. 3 
 
 And caused the golden-tressed sun 29 
 
 All the day long his course to run; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 The horned moon to shine by night 33 
 
 Amongst her spangled sisters bright; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 He with his thunder-clasping hand 37 
 
 Smote the first-born of Egypt land; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 And, in despite of Pharaoh fell, 41 
 
 He brought from thence his Israel; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 The ruddy waves he cleft in twain 45 
 
 Of the Erythraean main; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 The floods stood still, like walls of glass, 49 
 While the Hebrew bands did pass; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 But full soon they did devour 53 
 
 The tawny king with all his power; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 His chosen people he did bless 57 
 
 In the wasteful wilderness; 
 For his, &c, 
 
MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 In bloody battle he brought down 61 
 
 Kings of prowess and renown; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 He foiled bold Seon and his host, 65 
 
 That ruled the Amorrean coast; ■ 
 For his, &c. 
 
 And large limbed Og he did subdue, 69 
 
 With all his over-hardy crew; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 And to his servant Israel 73 
 
 He give their land, therein to dwell; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 He hath with a piteous eye 77 
 
 Beheld us in our misery; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 And freed us from the slavery 81 
 
 Of the invading enemy; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 All living creatures he doth feed, 85 
 
 And with full hand supplies their need; 
 For his, &c. 
 
 Let us therefore warble forth 89 
 
 His mighty majesty and worth; 
 For his, &c. 
 
DEA TH OF A FAIR INFANT. 5 
 
 That his mansion hath on high, 93 
 
 Above the reach of mortal eye; 
 
 For his mercies aye endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT 
 DYING OF A COUGH. 
 
 Anno cetatis iy. 
 
 O fairest flower, no sooner blown but blasted, 
 Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, 
 Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst outlasted 
 Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; 
 For he, being amorous on that lovely dye 5 
 
 That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, 
 But killed, alas! and then bewailed his fatal bliss. 
 
 ii 
 
 For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer, 
 
 By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, 
 
 He thought it touched his deity full near, io 
 
 If likewise he some fair one wedded not, 
 
 Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot 
 
 Of long-uncoupled bed and childless eld, 
 Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach 
 was held. 
 
6 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 So mounting up in icy-pearled car, 15 
 
 Through middle empire of the freezing air 
 He wandered long, till thee he spied from far; 
 There ended was his quest, there ceased his care: 
 Down he descended from his snow-soft chair, 
 
 But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 
 Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding- 
 place. 
 
 IV 
 
 Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate; 
 
 For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, 
 
 Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate, 
 
 Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, 25 
 
 Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land; 
 
 But then transformed him to a purple flower : 
 Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power! 
 
 Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, 
 Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, 30 
 Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed, 
 Hid from the world in a low-delved tomb; 
 Could Heaven, for pity, thee so strictly doom? 
 Oh no ! for something in thy face did shine 
 Above mortality, that showed thou wast divine. 35 
 
DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT. 7 
 
 VI 
 
 Resolve me, then, O Soul most surely blest 
 (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear) ! 
 Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest, 
 Whether above that high first-moving sphere, 
 Or in the Elysian fields (if such there were), 40 
 
 Oh, say me true if thou wert mortal wight, 
 And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy 
 flight. 
 
 VII 
 
 Wert thou some star which from the ruined roof 
 Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall; 
 Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof 45 
 
 Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? 
 Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall 
 
 Of sheeny Heaven, and thou some goddess fled 
 Amongst us here below to hide thy nectared head? 
 
 VIII 
 
 Or wert thou that just maid who once before 50 
 Forsook the hated earth, oh! tell me sooth, 
 And cam'st again to visit us once more? 
 Or wert thou [Mercy,] that sweet smiling youth? 
 Or that crowned matron, sage white-robed Truth? 
 Or any other of that heavenly brood 55 
 
 Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some 
 good? 
 
o MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 IX 
 
 Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, 
 
 Who having clad thyself in human weed, 
 
 To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, 
 
 And after short abode fly back with speed, 60 
 
 As if to show what creatures Heaven doth breed; 
 
 Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire 
 To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heaven aspire? 
 
 But oh! why didst thou not stay here below 
 To bless us with thy heaven-loved innocence, 65 
 To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, 
 To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence, 
 Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence, 
 
 To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart? 
 But thou canst best perform that office where thou 
 art. 70 
 
 XI 
 
 Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, 
 Her false-imagined loss cease to lament, 
 And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; 
 Think what a present thou to God hast sent, 
 And render him with patience what he lent: 75 
 
 This if thou do, he will an offspring give 
 That till the world's last end shall make thy name 
 to live. 
 
 
VACATION EXERCISE. 
 
 AT A VACATION EXERCISE IN THE COLLEGE, PART 
 LATIN, PART ENGLISH. 
 
 Anno (Etatis ig. 
 
 The Latin speeches ended, the English thus 
 began: — 
 
 Hail, native language, that by sinews weak 
 Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, 
 And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips, 
 Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips, 
 Driving dumb silence from the portal door, 5 
 
 Where he had mutely sat two years before: 
 Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask 
 That now I use thee in my latter task! 
 Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee; 
 I know my tongue but little grace can do thee. 10 
 Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first; 
 Believe me, I have thither packed the worst: 
 And if it happen as I did forecast, 
 The daintiest dishes shall be served up last. 
 I pray thee then deny me not thy aid, 15 
 
 For this same small neglect that I have made; 
 But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure, 
 And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure; 
 Not those new-fangled toys and trimming slight 
 Which takes our late fantastics with delight; 20 
 But cull those richest robes and gayest attire, 
 Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire: 
 I have some naked thoughts that rove about, 
 
10 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 And loudly knock to have their passage out, 
 
 And, weary of their place, do only stay 25 
 
 Till thou hast decked them in thy best array; 
 
 That so they may, without suspect or fears, 
 
 Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears. 
 
 Yet I had rather, if I were to choose, 
 
 Thy service in some graver subject use; 30 
 
 Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, 
 
 Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound; 
 
 Such where the deep transported mind may soar 
 
 Above the wheeling poles, and at heaven's door 
 
 Look in, and see each blissful deity 35 
 
 How he before the thunderous throne doth lie, 
 
 Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings 
 
 To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings 
 
 Immortal nectar to her knightly sire; 
 
 Then, passing through the spheres of watchful fire, 
 
 And misty regions of wide air next under, 41 
 
 And hills of snow and lofts of piled thunder, 
 
 May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves, 
 
 In heaven's defiance mustering all his waves; 
 
 Then sing of secret things that came to pass 45 
 
 When beldam Nature in her cradle was; 
 
 And last of kings and queens and heroes old, 
 
 Such as the wise Demodocus once told 
 
 In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast, 
 
 While sad Ulysses' squI and all the rest 50 
 
 Are held, with his melodious harmony, 
 
 In willing chains and sweet captivity. 
 
 But fie, my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray! 
 
 Expectance calls thee now another way: 
 
VACATION EXERCISE. II 
 
 Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent 55 
 
 To keep in compass of thy Predicament. 
 Then quick about thy purposed business come, 
 That to the next I may resign my room. 
 
 Then Ens is represented as Father of the Predica- 
 ments, his ten sons; whereof the eldest stood for 
 Substance with his Canons; zvhich Ens, thus 
 speaking, explains: — 
 
 Good luck befriend thee, son; for at thy birth 
 The faery ladies danced upon the hearth. 60 
 
 The drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy 
 Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie, 
 And, sweetly singing round about thy bed, 
 Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head. 
 She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst 
 still 65 
 
 From eyes of mortals walk invisible. 
 Yet there is something that doth force my fear; 
 For once it was my dismal hap to hear 
 A sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age, 
 That far events full wisely could presage, 70 
 
 And in Time's long and dark prospective-glass 
 Foresaw what future days should bring to pass. 
 ' Your son/ said she, * (nor can you it prevent) 
 Shall subject be to many an Accident. 
 O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king; 75 
 Yet every one shall make him underling, 
 And those that cannot live from him asunder 
 Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under. 
 
12 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 In worth and excellence he shall outgo them, 
 
 Yet, being above them, he shall be below them. 80 
 
 From others he shall stand in need of nothing, 
 
 Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing, 
 
 To find a foe it shall not be his hap, 
 
 And peace shall lull him in her flowery lap; 
 
 Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door 85 
 
 Devouring war shall never cease to roar; 
 
 Yea, it shall be his natural property 
 
 To harbour those that are at enmity/ 
 
 What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not 
 
 Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? 
 
 The next, Quantity and Quality, spake in prose; 
 then Relation was called by his name. 
 
 Rivers, arise ! whether thou be the son 91 
 
 Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulfy Dun, 
 
 Or Trent, who like some earth-born giant spreads 
 
 His thirty arms along the indented meads, 
 
 Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath, 95 
 
 Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death, 
 
 Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lea, 
 
 Or coaly Tyne, or ancient hallowed Dee, 
 
 Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name, 
 
 Or Medway smooth, or royal-towered Thame. 100 
 
 The rest was prose. 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 13 
 
 ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 
 
 Composed 162Q. 
 
 This is the month, and this the happy morn, 
 Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, 
 Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, 
 Our great redemption from above did bring; 
 For so the holy sages once did sing, 
 
 That he our deadly forfeit should release, 
 And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. 
 
 11 
 
 That glorious form, that light unsufferable, 
 And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, 
 Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table 
 To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, n 
 
 He laid aside; and here with us to be, 
 
 Forsook the courts of everlasting day, 
 And chose with us a darksome house of mortal 
 clay. 
 
 in 
 
 Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 15 
 Afford a present to the Infant God? 
 Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, 
 To welcome him to this his new abode, 
 
14 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod, 
 
 Hath took no print of the approaching light, 20 
 And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons 
 bright? 
 
 IV 
 
 See how from far upon the eastern road 
 
 The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! 
 
 O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, 
 
 And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; 25 
 
 Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 
 
 And join thy voice unto the angel quire, 
 From out his secret alta^ touched with hallowed 
 fire. 
 
 The Hymn. 
 
 It was the winter wild, 
 
 While the heaven-born child 3° 
 
 All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; 
 Nature, in awe to him, 
 Had doffed her gaudy trim, 
 
 With her great Master so to sympathize: 
 It was no season then for her 35 
 
 To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. 
 
 11 
 
 Only with speeches fair 
 She woos the gentle air 
 
 To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. t$ 
 
 And on her naked shame, 4° 
 
 Pollute with sinful blame, 
 
 The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; 
 Confounded, that her Maker's eyes 
 Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 
 
 in 
 
 But he, her fears to cease, 45 
 
 Sent down the meek-eyed Peace: 
 
 She, crowned with olive green, came softly 
 ' sliding 
 Down through the turning sphere, 
 His ready harbinger, 
 
 With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; 
 And waving wide her myrtle wand, 5* 
 
 She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 
 
 IV 
 
 No war, or battle's sound, 
 Was heard the world around; 
 
 The idle spear and shield were high uphung; 55 
 The hooked chariot stood 
 Unstained with hostile blood; 
 
 The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; 
 And kings sat still with awful eye, 
 As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 6o 
 
 But peaceful was the night 
 Wherein the Prince of Light 
 
 His reign of peace upon the earth began: 
 
1 6 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 The winds, with wonder whist, 
 
 Smoothly the waters kissed, 65 
 
 Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, 
 Who now hath quite forgot to rave, 
 While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed 
 wave. 
 
 VI 
 
 The stars, with deep amaze, 
 
 Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, 70 
 
 Bending one way their precious influence, 
 And will not take their flight, 
 For all the morning light, 
 
 Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; 
 But in their glimmering orbs did glow, 75 
 
 Until their Lord himself bespake and bid them go. 
 
 VII 
 
 And though the shady gloom 
 Had given day her room, 
 
 The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, 
 And hid his head for shame, So 
 
 As his inferior flame 
 
 The new-enlightened world no more should 
 need: 
 He saw a greater Sun appear 
 
 Than his bright throne or burning axletree could 
 bear. 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 17 
 VIII 
 
 The shepherds on the lawn, 85 
 
 Or ere the point of dawn, 
 
 Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; 
 Full little thought they than, 
 That the mighty Pan 
 
 Was kindly come to live with them below: 90 
 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 
 Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. 
 
 IX 
 
 When such music sweet 
 Their hearts and ears did greet 
 
 As never was by mortal finger strook, 95 
 
 Divinely-warbled voice 
 Answering the stringed noise, 
 
 As all their souls in blissful rapture took: 
 The air, such pleasure loath to lose, 
 With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly 
 close. 100 
 
 Nature, that heard such sound 
 Beneath the hollow round 
 
 Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling, 
 Now was almost won 
 To think her part was done, 105 
 
 And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: 
 She knew such harmony alone 
 Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. 
 
1 8 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS, 
 
 XI 
 
 At last surrounds their sight 
 
 A globe of circular light, no 
 
 That with long beams the shamefaced night 
 arrayed ; 
 
 The helmed cherubim 
 
 And sworded seraphim 
 
 Are seen in glittering ranks with wings dis- 
 played, 
 
 Harping in loud and solemn quire, 115 
 
 With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born 
 heir. 
 
 XII 
 
 Such music (as 'tis said) 
 Before was never made, 
 
 But when of old the sons of morning sung, 
 While the Creator great 120 
 
 His constellations set, 
 
 And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, 
 And cast the dark foundations deep7~~ 
 And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel 
 keep. 
 
 XIII 
 
 ■ 
 
 Ring out, ye crystal spheres! 125 
 
 Once bless our human ears 
 
 (If ye have power to touch our senses so), 
 And let your silver chime 
 Move in melodious time; 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 19 
 
 And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow; 
 And with your ninefold harmony 131 
 
 Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 
 
 XIV 
 
 For if such holy song 
 Enwrap our fancy long, 
 
 Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; i35 
 And speckled Vanity 
 Will sicken soon and die, 
 
 And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould; 
 And Hell itself will pass away, 
 And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering 
 day. 140 
 
 xv 
 
 Yea, Truth and Justice then 
 Will down return to men, 
 
 Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, 
 Mercy will sit between, 
 Throned in celestial sheen, 145 
 
 With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steer- 
 ing; 
 And heaven, as at some festival, 
 Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 
 
 xvi 
 
 But wisest Fate says no, 
 
 This must not yet be so; 150 
 
 The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy 
 
 7^ 
 
20 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 That on the bitter cross 
 Must redeem our loss, 
 
 
 So both himself and us to glorify: 
 Yet first, to those ychained in sleep, 155 
 
 The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through 
 the deep, 
 
 XVII 
 
 With such a horrid clang 
 As on Mount Sinai rang, 
 
 While the red fire and smouldering clouds out- 
 brake : 
 The aged earth, aghast 160 
 
 With terror of that blast, 
 
 Shall from the surface to the centre shake, 
 When at the world's last session, 
 The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his 
 throne. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 And then at last our bliss 165 
 
 Full and perfect is, 
 
 But now begins; for from this happy day 
 The old Dragon under ground, 
 In straiter limits bound, 
 
 Not half so far casts his usurped sway; 170 
 
 And wroth to see his kingdom fail, 
 Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 21 
 XIX 
 
 The oracles are dumb; 
 No voice or hideous hum 
 
 Runs through the arched roof in words deceiv- 
 ing. 175 
 Apollo from his shrine 
 Can no more divine, 
 
 With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. 
 No nightly trance, or breathed spell, 
 Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic 
 cell. 180 
 
 xx 
 
 The lonely mountains o'er, 
 And the resounding shore, 
 
 A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; 
 From haunted spring, and dale 
 Edged with poplar pale, 185 
 
 The parting Genius is with sighing sent; 
 With flower-inwoven tresses torn 
 The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets 
 mourn. 
 
 XXI 
 
 In consecrated earth, 
 
 And on the holy hearth, 190 
 
 The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight 
 plaint; 
 In urns and altars round, 
 A drear and dying sound 
 
22 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; 
 And the chill marble seems to sweat, i95 
 
 While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. 
 
 XXII 
 
 Peor and Baalim 
 
 Forsake their temples dim, 
 
 With that twice-battered god of Palestine; 
 And mooned Ashtaroth, 200 
 
 Heaven's queen and mother both, 
 
 Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; 
 The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn; 
 In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz 
 mourn. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 And sullen Moloch, fled, 205 
 
 Hath left in shadows dread 
 
 His burning idol all of blackest hue; 
 In vain with cymbals' ring 
 They call the grisly king, 
 
 In dismal dance about the furnace blue; 210 
 
 The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 
 Isis and Orus and the dog Anubis, haste. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Nor is Osiris seen 
 In Memphian grove or green, 
 Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings 
 loud; 215 
 
THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 23 
 
 Nor can he be at rest 
 Within his sacred chest; 
 
 Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; 
 In vain, with timbreled anthems dark, 
 The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshiped ark. 
 
 xxv 
 
 He feels from Juda's land 221 
 
 The dreaded Infant's hand; 
 
 The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; 
 Nor all the gods beside 
 Longer dare abide, 225 
 
 Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: 
 Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, 
 Can in his swaddling bands control the damned 
 
 crew. 
 
 * 
 
 XXVI 
 
 So when the sun in bed, 
 
 Curtained with cloudy red, 230 
 
 Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, 
 The flocking shadows pale 
 Troop to the infernal jail, 
 
 Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave, 
 And the yellow-skirted fays 235 
 
 Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon- 
 loved maze. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 But see! the Virgin blest 
 Hath laid her Babe to rest. 
 
24 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Time is our tedious song should here have end- 
 ing: 
 Heaven's youngest-teemed star 240 
 
 Hath fixed her polished car, 
 
 Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attend- 
 ing; 
 And all about the courtly stable 
 Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. 
 
 UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. 
 
 Ye flaming powers, and winged warriors bright, 
 That erst with music and triumphant song, 
 First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, 
 So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along, 
 Through the soft silence of the listening night, 5 
 Now mourn; and if, sad share with us to bear, 
 Your fiery essence can distil no tear, 
 Burn in your sighs, and borrow 
 Seas wept from our deep sorrow: 
 He who with all heaven's heraldry whilere 10 
 
 Entered the world, now bleeds to give us ease. 
 Alas ! how soon our sin 
 Sore doth begin 
 
 His infancy to seize! 
 
 O more exceeding love, or law more just? 15 
 
 Just law, indeed, but more exceeding love! 
 For we, by rightful doom remediless, 
 Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above 
 High-throned in secret bliss, for us frail dust 
 
THE PASSION. 25 
 
 Emptied his glory, even to nakedness; 20 
 
 And that great covenant which we still transgress 
 Entirely satisfied, 
 And the full wrath beside 
 Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, 
 And seals obedience first with wounding smart 25 
 This day; but oh! ere long, 
 Huge pangs and strong 
 
 Will pierce more near his heart! 
 
 THE PASSION. 
 
 Erewhile of music and ethereal mirth, 
 Wherewith the stage of air and earth did ring, 
 And joyous news of heavenly Infant's birth, 
 My muse with angels did divide to sing; 
 But headlong joy is ever on the wing, 5 
 
 in wintry solstice like the shortened light 
 Soon swallowed up in dark and long outliving 
 night. 
 
 11 
 
 For now to sorrow must I tune my song, 
 And set my harp to notes of saddest woe, 
 Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, 10 
 Dangers and snares and wrongs, and worse than so, 
 Which he for us did freely undergo: 
 
 Most perfect hero, tried in heaviest plight 
 Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human 
 wight ! 
 
26 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS, 
 
 III 
 
 He, sovran priest, stooping his regal head, 15 
 
 That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, 
 Poor fleshly tabernacle entered, 
 His starry front low-roofed beneath the skies: 
 Oh, what a mask was there, what a disguise! 
 
 Yet more: the stroke of death he must abide; 20 
 Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethren's 
 side. 
 
 IV 
 
 These latest scenes confine my roving verse; 
 
 To this horizon is my Phoebus bound. 
 
 His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, 
 
 And former sufferings, otherwhere are found; 25 
 
 Loud o'er the rest Cremona's trump doth sound: 
 
 Me softer airs befit, and softer strings 
 Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. 
 
 v 
 
 Befriend me, Night, best patroness of grief! 
 
 Over the pole thy thickest mantle throw, 3° 
 
 And work my flattered fancy to belief 
 
 That heaven and earth are coloured with my woe; 
 
 My sorrows are too dark for day to know: 
 
 The leaves should all be black whereon I write, 
 And letters, where my tears have washed, a wan- 
 nish white. 35 
 
THE PASSION. 27 
 
 VI 
 
 See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, 
 That whirled the prophet up at Chebar flood; 
 My spirit some transporting cherub feels 
 To bear me where the towers of Salem stood, 
 Once glorious towers, now sunk in guiltless blood. 
 There doth my soul in holy vision sit, 41 
 
 In pensive trance and anguish and ecstatic fit. 
 
 VII 
 
 Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock 
 That was the casket of heaven's richest store, 
 And here, though grief my feeble hands up-lock, 45 
 Yet on the softened quarry would I score 
 My plaining verse as lively as before; 
 
 For sure so well instructed are my tears 
 That they would fitly fall in ordered characters. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing, 50 
 Take up a weeping on the mountains wild, 
 The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring 
 Would soon unbosom all their echoes mild; 
 And I (for grief is easily beguiled) 
 
 Might think the infection of my sorrows loud 55 
 Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant 
 cloud. 
 
 This subject the Author finding to be above the years he had when 
 he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it un- 
 finished. 
 
28 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 SONG ON MAY MORNING. 
 
 Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, 
 Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
 The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
 The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. 
 
 Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire 5 
 
 Mirth and youth and warm desire! 
 Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
 Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
 Thus we salute thee with our early song, 
 And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 10 
 
 ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630. 
 
 What needs my Shakespear for his honoured bones 
 
 The labour of an age in piled stones? 
 
 Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid 
 
 Under a star-ypointing pyramid? 
 
 Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, 5 
 
 What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? 
 
 Thou in our wonder and astonishment 
 
 Hast built thyself a livelong monument. 
 
 For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, 
 
 Thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart 10 
 
 Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book 
 
 Those Delphic lines with deep impression took; 
 
 Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, 
 
 Dost make us marble with too much conceiving; 
 
 And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, 15 
 
 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. 
 
OlV THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER. 29 
 
 ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER, 
 
 Who sickened in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London 
 by reaso?i of the Plague. 
 
 Here lies old Hobson: Death hath broke his girt, 
 And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt; 
 Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one 
 He's here stuck in a slough and overthrown. 
 'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, 5 
 Death was half glad when he had got him down; 
 For he had any time this ten years full 
 Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and The Bull. 
 And surely Death could never have prevailed, 
 Had not his weekly course of carriage failed; 10 
 But lately, finding him so long at home, 
 And thinking now his journey's end was come, 
 And that he had ta'en up his latest inn, 
 In the kind office of a chamberlin 
 Showed him his room where he must lodge that 
 night, 15 
 
 Pulled ofif his boots, and took away the light. 
 If any ask for him, it shall be said, 
 ' Hobson has supped, and's newly gone to bed/ 
 
 ANOTHER ON THE SAME. 
 
 Here lieth one who did most truly prove 
 That he could never die while he could move ; 
 So hung his destiny, never to rot 
 While he might still jog on and keep his trot; 
 
3° MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Made of sphere-metal, never to decay 5 
 
 Until his revolution was at stay. 
 Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 
 'Gainst old truth) motion numbered out his time; 
 And like an engine moved with wheel and weight, 
 His principles being ceased, he ended straight. 10 
 Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, 
 And too much breathing put him out of breath; 
 Nor were it contradiction to affirm 
 Too long vacation hastened on his term. 
 Merely to drive the time away he sickened, 15 
 
 Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quickened. 
 ' Nay/ quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched, 
 ' If I may not carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetched; 
 But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, 
 For one carrier put down to make six bearers/ 20 
 Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, 
 He died for heaviness that his cart went light. 
 His leisure told him that his time was come, 
 And lack of load made his life burdensome, 
 That even to his last breath (there be that say't), 25 
 As he were pressed to death, he cried, ' More 
 
 weight ! ' 
 But had his doings lasted as they were, 
 He had been an immortal carrier. 
 Obedient to the moon he spent his date 
 In course reciprocal, and had his fate 30 
 
 Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas; 
 Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase. 
 His letters are delivered all and gone; 
 Only remains this superscription. 
 
AM EPITAPH. 31 
 
 AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER. 
 
 This rich marble doth inter 
 
 The honoured wife of Winchester; 
 
 A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir, 
 
 Besides what her virtues fair 
 
 Added to her noble birth, 5 
 
 More than she could own from earth. 
 
 Summers three times eight save one 
 
 She had told; alas! too soon, 
 
 After so short time of breath, 
 
 To house with darkness and with death! 10 
 
 •Yet had the number of her days 
 
 Been as complete as was her praise, 
 
 Nature and Fate had had no strife 
 
 In giving limit to her life. 
 
 Her high birth and her graces sweet 15 
 
 Quickly found a lover meet; 
 
 The virgin quire for her request 
 
 The god that sits at marriage- feast ; 
 
 He at their invoking came, 
 
 But with a scarce-well-lighted flame; 20 
 
 And in his garland, as he stood, 
 
 Ye might discern a cypress-bud. 
 
 Once had the early matrons run 
 
 To greet her of a lovely son, 
 
 And now with second hope she goes, 25 
 
 And calls Lucina to her throes; 
 
 But whether by mischance or blame, 
 
 Atropos for Lucina came, 
 
3 2 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 And with remorseless cruelty 
 
 Spoiled at once both fruit and tree. 30 
 
 The hapless babe before his birth 
 
 Had burial, yet not laid in earth; 
 
 And the languished mother's womb 
 
 Was not long- a living tomb. 
 
 So have I seen some tender slip, 35 
 
 Saved with care from winter's nip, 
 
 The pride of her carnation train, 
 
 Plucked up by some unheedy swain, 
 
 Who only thought to crop the flower 
 
 New shot up from vernal shower; 40 
 
 But the fair blossom hangs the head 
 
 Sideways, as on a dying bed, 
 
 And those pearls of dew she wears 
 
 Prove to be presaging tears 
 
 Which the sad morn had let fall 45 
 
 On her hastening funeral. 
 
 Gentle Lady, may thy grave 
 
 Peace and quiet ever have! 
 
 After this thy travail spre, 
 
 Sweet rest seize thee evermore, 50 
 
 That, to give the world increase, 
 
 Shortened hast thy own life's lease! 
 
 Here, besides the sorrowing 
 
 That thy noble house doth bring, 
 
 Here be tears of perfect moan 55 
 
 Wept for thee in Helicon; 
 
 And some flowers and some bays 
 
 For thy hearse, to strew the ways, 
 
 Sent thee from the banks of Came, 
 
.L'ALLEGRO. 33 
 
 Devoted to thy virtuous name; 60 
 
 Whilst thou, bright saint, high sit'st in glory, 
 
 Next her, much like to thee in story, 
 
 That fair Syrian shepherdess, 
 
 Who, after years of barrenness, 
 
 The highly-favoured Joseph bore 65 
 
 To him that served for her before ; 
 
 And at her next birth, much like thee, 
 
 Through pangs fled to felicity, 
 
 Far within the bosom bright 
 
 Of blazing majesty and light: 7° 
 
 There with thee, new-welcome saint, 
 
 Like fortunes may her soul acquaint, 
 
 With thee there clad in radiant sheen, 
 
 No Marchioness, but now a Queen. 
 
 L'ALLEGRO. 
 
 Hence, loathed Melancholy, 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born 
 In Stygian cave forlorn, 
 
 'Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks and sights un- 
 holy! 
 Find out some uncouth cell, 5 
 
 Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous 
 wings, cLy 
 And the night-raven sings; 
 
 There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, 
 As ragged as thy locks, 
 
 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 10 
 
 But come, thou Goddess fair and free, 
 
 &^ 
 
34 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, 
 And by men heart-easing Mirth; 
 Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, 
 With two sister Graces more, 15 
 
 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore; 
 Or whether (as some sager sing) 
 , The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
 Zephyr, with Aurora playing, 
 As he met her once a-Maying, 20 
 
 There on beds of violets blue 
 And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 
 Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, 
 So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 
 Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee 25 
 Jest, and youthful Jollity, 
 Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, 
 Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 And love to live in dimple sleek; 30 
 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 Come, and trip it as you go, 
 On the light fantastic toe; 
 And in thy right hand lead with thee 35 
 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; 
 And if I give thee honour due, 
 Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
 To live with her, and live with thee, 
 In unreproved pleasures free: 4° 
 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And singing, startle the dull night, 
 
r ALLEGRO. 35 
 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise; > 
 
 Then to come in spite of sorrow, 45 
 
 And at my window bid good-morrow, 
 
 Through the sweet-briar or the vine, 
 
 Or the twisted eglantine; 
 
 While the cock, with lively din, 
 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin; 50 
 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door, 
 
 Stoutly struts his dames before: 
 
 Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, 
 
 From the side of some hoar hill, 55 
 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill: 
 
 Sometime walking, not unseen, 
 
 By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, 
 
 Right against the eastern gate 
 
 Where the great sun begins his state, 60 
 
 Robed in flames and amber light, 
 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight; 
 
 While the ploughman, near at hand, 
 
 Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
 
 And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 65 
 
 And the mower whets his scythe, 
 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 
 Whilst the landskip round it measures : 70 
 
 Russet lawns and fallows grey, 
 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 
 Mountains on whose barren breast 
 
36 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 The labouring clouds do often rest; 
 
 Meadows trim with daisies pied, 75 
 
 Shallow brooks and rivers wide; 
 
 Towers and battlements it sees 
 
 Bosomed high in tufted trees, 
 
 Where perhaps some beauty lies, 
 
 The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 80 
 
 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes 
 
 From betwixt two aged oaks, 
 
 Where Corydon and Thyrsis met 
 
 Are at their savoury dinner set 
 
 Of herbs and other country messes, 85 
 
 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses; 
 
 And then in haste her bower she leaves, 
 
 With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; 
 
 Or, if the earlier season lead, 
 
 To the tanned haycock in the mead. 90 
 
 Sometimes, with secure delight, 
 
 The upland hamlets will invite, 
 
 When the merry bells ring round, 
 
 And the jocund rebecks sound 
 
 To many a youth and many a maid 95 
 
 Dancing in the chequered shade; 
 
 And young and old come forth to play 
 
 On a sunshine holiday, 
 
 Till the livelong daylight fail: 
 
 Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 100 
 
 With stories told of many a feat, 
 
 How faery Mab the junkets eat. 
 
 She was pinched and pulled, she said; 
 
 And he, by friar's lantern led, 
 
VALLEGRO. 37 
 
 Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 105 
 
 To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 
 
 When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 
 
 His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn 
 
 That ten day-labourers could not end; 
 
 Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, no 
 
 And, stretched out all the chimney's length, 
 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength, 
 
 And crop-full out of doors he flings, 
 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings. 
 
 Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 115 
 
 By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. 
 
 Towered cities please us then, 
 
 And the busy hum of men, 
 
 Where throngs of knights and barons bold, 
 
 In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 120 
 
 With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
 
 Rain influence, and judge the prize 
 
 Of wit or arms, while both contend 
 
 To win her grace whom all commend. 
 
 There let Hymen of? appear 125 
 
 In saffron robe, with taper clear, 
 
 And pomp and feast and revelry, 
 
 With mask and antique pageantry; 
 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream 
 
 On summer eves by haunted stream. 130 
 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
 
 If Jonson's learned sock be on, 
 
 Or sweetest Shakespear, Fancy's child, 
 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
 
 And ever, against eating cares, 135 
 
38 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
 
 Married to immortal verse, 
 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce, 
 
 In notes with many a winding bout 
 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 140 
 
 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 
 
 The melting voice through mazes running, 
 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 
 The hidden soul of harmony; 
 
 That Orpheus' self may heave his head 145 
 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 
 Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear 
 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 
 Of Pluto to have quite set free 
 
 His half-regained Eurydice. 150 
 
 These delights if thou canst give, 
 
 Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 
 
 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 Hence, vain deluding Joys, 
 
 The brood of Folly without father bred! 
 How little you bested, 
 
 Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! 
 Dwell in some idle brain, 5 
 
 And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, 
 As thick and numberless 
 
 As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, 
 Or likest hovering dreams, 
 
 The fickle pensioner of Morpheus' train, io 
 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 39 
 
 But hail, thou Goddess sage and holy, 
 
 Hail, divinest Melancholy! 
 
 Whose saintly visage is too bright 
 
 To hit the sense of human sight, 
 
 And therefore to our weaker view 15 
 
 O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; 
 
 Black, but such as in esteem 
 
 Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, 
 
 Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove 
 
 To set her beauty's praise above 20 
 
 The sea nymphs, and their powers ofifended. 
 
 Yet thou art higher far descended: 
 
 Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore 
 
 To solitary Saturn bore; 
 
 His daughter she (in Saturn's reign 25 
 
 Such mixture was not held a stain). 
 
 Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 
 
 He met her, and in secret shades 
 
 Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 
 
 Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. 30 
 
 Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
 
 Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
 
 All in a robe of darkest grain, 
 
 Flowing with majestic train, 
 
 And sable stole of cypress lawn 35 
 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 
 
 Come, but keep thy wonted state, 
 
 With even step, and musing gait, 
 
 And looks commercing with the skies, 
 
 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: 4° 
 
 There, held in holy passion still, 
 
4° MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Forget thyself to marble, till 
 
 With a sad leaden downward cast 
 
 Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 
 
 And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, 45 
 
 Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 
 
 And hears the Muses in a ring 
 
 Aye round about Jove's altar sing; , 
 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 
 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; 50 
 
 But first, and chiefest, with thee bring 
 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing, 
 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 
 
 The cherub Contemplation; 
 
 And the mute Silence hist along, 55 
 
 'Less Philomel will deign a song, 
 
 In her sweetest, saddest plight, 
 
 Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 
 
 While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 
 
 Gently o'er the accustomed oak: 60 
 
 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 
 
 Most musical, most melancholy! 
 
 Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among, 
 
 I woo to hear thy even-song; 
 
 And missing thee, I walk unseen 65 
 
 On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
 
 To behold the wandering moon, 
 
 Riding near her highest noon, 
 
 Like one that had been led astray 
 
 Through the heaven's wide pathless way, 7° 
 
 And oft, as if her head she bowed, 
 
 Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 4* 
 
 Oft on a plat of rising ground, 
 
 I hear the far-off curfew sound, 
 
 Over some wide-watered shore, 75 
 
 Swinging slow with sullen roar; 
 
 Or if the air will not permit, 
 
 Some still removed place will fit, 
 
 Where glowing embers through the room 
 
 Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 80 
 
 Far from all resort of mirth, 
 
 Save the cricket on the hearth, 
 
 Or the bellman's drowsy charm 
 
 To bless the doors from nightly harm. 
 
 Or let my lamp at midnight hour 85 
 
 Be seen in some high lonely tower, 
 
 Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 
 
 With thrice-great Hermes; or unsphere 
 
 The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
 
 What worlds or what vast regions hold 90 
 
 The immortal mind that hath forsook 
 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook; 
 
 And of those demons that are found 
 
 In fire, air, flood, or underground, 
 
 Whose power hath a true consent 95 
 
 With planet or with element. 
 
 Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 
 
 In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 
 
 Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, 
 
 Or the tale of Troy divine, 100 
 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 
 Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 
 
 But, O sad Virgin! that thy power 
 
\2 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Might raise Musaeus from his bower; 
 
 Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 105 
 
 Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 
 
 And made Hell grant what love did seek; 
 
 Or call up him that left half-told 
 
 The story of Cambuscan bold, no 
 
 Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 
 
 And who had Canace to wife, 
 
 That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 
 
 And of the wondrous horse of brass 
 
 On which the Tartar king did ride; 115 
 
 And if aught else great bards beside 
 
 In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 
 
 Of turneys, and of trophies hung, 
 
 Of forests, and enchantments drear, 
 
 Where more is meant than meets the ear. 120 
 
 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
 
 Till civil-suited Morn appear, 
 
 Not tricked and frounced as she was wont 
 
 With the Attic boy to hunt, 
 
 But kerchieft in a comely cloud, 125 
 
 While rocking winds are piping loud, 
 
 Or ushered with a shower still, 
 
 When the gust hath blown his fill, 
 
 Ending on the rustling leaves, 
 
 With minute-drops from off the eaves. 130 
 
 And when the sun begins to fling 
 
 His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring 
 
 To arched walks of twilight groves, 
 
 And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, 
 
 
IL PENSEROSO. . 43 
 
 Of pine, or monumental oak, 135 
 
 Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 
 
 Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, 
 
 Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 
 
 There in close covert by some brook, 
 
 Where no profaner eye may look, 140 
 
 Hide me from day's garish eye, 
 
 While the bee with honeyed thigh, 
 
 That at her flowery work doth sing, 
 
 And the waters murmuring, 
 
 With such consort as they keep, 145 
 
 Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep; 
 
 And let some strange mysterious dream 
 
 Wave at his wings in airy stream 
 
 Of lively portraiture displayed, 
 
 Softly on my eyelids laid; 150 
 
 And as I wake, sweet music breathe 
 
 Above, about, or underneath, 
 
 Sent by some spirit to mortals good, 
 
 Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 
 
 But let my due feet never fail 155 
 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale, 
 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 
 With antique pillars massy proof, 
 
 And storied windows richly dight, 
 
 Casting a dim religious light. 160 
 
 There let the pealing organ blow, 
 
 To the full-voiced quire below, 
 
 In service high and anthems clear, 
 
 As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 
 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies, 165 
 
44 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 
 
 And may at last my weary age 
 
 Find out the peaceful hermitage, 
 
 The hairy gown, and mossy cell, 
 
 Where I may sit and rightly spell 170 
 
 Of every star that heaven doth shew, 
 
 And every herb that sips the dew, 
 
 Till old experience do attain 
 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 
 These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 175 
 
 And I with thee will choose to live. 
 
 AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 
 
 Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, 
 
 Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, 
 
 Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ, 
 
 Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; 
 
 And to our high-raised phantasy present 5 
 
 That undisturbed song of pure concent, 
 
 Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne 
 
 To Him that sits thereon, 
 
 With saintly shout and solemn jubilee; 
 
 Where the bright seraphim in burning row 10 
 
 Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, 
 
 And the cherubic host in thousand quires 
 
 Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
 
 With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
 
 Hymns devout and holy psalms 15 
 
 Singing everlastingly : 
 
 That we on earth, with undiscording voice, 
 
ON TIME, 4$ 
 
 May rightly answer that melodious noise; 
 
 As once we did, till disproportioned sin 
 
 Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din 
 
 Broke the fair music that all creatures made 21 
 
 To their great Lord, whose love their motion 
 
 swayed 
 In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 
 In first obedience and their state of good. 
 O, may we soon again renew that song, 25 
 
 And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long 
 To his celestial consort us unite, 
 To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light! 
 
 ON TIME. 
 
 Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race; 
 
 Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, 
 
 Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; 
 
 And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, 
 
 Which is no more than what is false and vain, 5 
 
 And merely mortal dross; 
 
 So little is our loss, 
 
 So little is thy gain! 
 
 For whenas each thing bad thou hast entombed, 
 
 And last of all thy greedy self consumed, 10 
 
 Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss 
 
 With an individual kiss, 
 
 And Joy shall overtake us as a flood; 
 
 When every thing that is sincerely good 
 
 And perfectly divine, 15 
 
 With Truth and Peace and Love, shall ever shine 
 
46 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 About the supreme throne 
 Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone 
 When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, 
 Then, all this earthy grossness quit, 20 
 
 Attired with stars we shall for ever sit, 
 
 Triumphing over Death and Chance and thee, 
 O Time! 
 
 ARCADES. 
 
 Part of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of 
 Derby at Harefield, by some noble persons of her family; who ap- 
 pear on the scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat of 
 state, with this song :— 
 
 I. SONG. 
 
 Look, nymphs and shepherds, look! 
 What sudden blaze of majesty 
 Is that which we from hence descry, 
 Too divine to be mistook? 
 
 This, this is she 
 To whom our vows and wishes bend: 
 Here our solemn search hath end. 
 
 Fame, that her high worth to raise 
 Seemed erst so lavish and profuse, 
 We may justly now accuse 10 
 
 Of detraction from her praise: 
 
 Less than half we find expressed; 
 
 Envy bid conceal the rest. 
 
ARCADES. 47 
 
 Mark what radiant state she spreads 
 In circle round her shining throne, 15 
 
 Shooting her beams like silver threads; 
 This, this is she alone, 
 
 Sitting like a goddess bright 
 
 In the centre of her light. 
 
 Might she the wise Latona be, 20 
 
 Or the towered Cybele, 
 
 Mother of a hundred gods? 
 
 Juno dares not give her odds: 
 
 Who had thought this clime had held 
 
 A deity so unparalleled? 25 
 
 As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and turning 
 toward them, speaks. 
 
 Genius. Stay, gentle swains, for though in this 
 disguise, 
 I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes; 
 Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung 
 Of that renowned flood, so often sung, 
 Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluice, 30 
 
 Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse; 
 And ye, the breathing roses of the wood, 
 Fair silver-buskined nymphs, as great and good; 
 I know this quest of yours and free intent 
 Was all in honour and devotion meant 35 
 
 To the great mistress of yon princely shrine, 
 Whom with low reverence I adore as mine, 
 And with all helpful service will comply 
 
4^ MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 To further this night's glad solemnity, 
 
 And lead ye where ye may more near behold 40 
 
 What shallow-searching Fame hath left untold; 
 
 Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone, 
 
 Have sat to wonder at and gaze upon. 
 
 For know, by lot from Jove I am the power 
 
 Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower, 45 
 
 To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove 
 
 With ringlets quaint and wanton windings wove; 
 
 And all my plants I save from nightly ill 
 
 Of noisome winds and blasting vapours chill; 
 
 And from the boughs brush off the evil dew, 50 
 
 And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue, 
 
 Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites, 
 
 Or hurtful worm with cankered venom bites. 
 
 When evening grey doth rise, I fetch my round 
 
 Over the mount and all this hallowed ground ; 55 
 
 And early, ere the odorous breath of morn 
 
 Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tasselled horn 
 
 Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about, 
 
 Number my ranks, and visit every sprout 
 
 With puissant words and murmurs made to bless. 
 
 But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness 61 
 
 Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I 
 
 To the celestial Sirens' harmony, 
 
 That sit upon the nine enfolded spheres, 
 
 And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 65 
 
 And turn the adamantine spindle round, 
 
 On which the fate of gods and men is wound. 
 
 Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, 
 
 To lull the daughters of Necessity, 
 
 
ARCADES. 49 
 
 And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 7° 
 
 And the low world in measured motion draw 
 After the heavenly tune, which none can hear 
 Of human mould with gross unpurged ear; 
 And yet such music worthiest were to blaze 
 The peerless height of her immortal praise 75 
 
 Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, 
 If my inferior hand or voice could hit 
 Inimitable sounds: yet, as we go, 
 Whatever the skill of lesser gods can show, 
 I will assay, her worth to celebrate, 8o 
 
 And so attend ye toward her glittering state; 
 Where ye may all that are of noble stem l 
 Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. 
 
 II. SONG. 
 
 O'er the smooth enamelled green, 
 
 Where no print of step hath been, 85 
 
 Follow me, as I sing 
 And touch the warbled string; 
 
 Under the shady roof 
 
 Of branching elm star-proof, 
 
 Follow me: 90 
 
 I will bring you where she sits, 
 
 Clad in splendour as befits 
 Her deity. 
 
 Such a rural Queen 
 
 All Arcadia hath not seen. 95 
 
SO MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 III. SONG. 
 
 Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more 
 
 By sandy Ladon's lilied banks; 
 On old Lycaeus or Cyllene hoar, 
 
 Trip no more in twilight ranks; 
 Though Erymanth your loss deplore, ioo 
 
 A better soil shall give ye thanks. 
 From the stony Msenalus 
 Bring your flocks, and live with us; 
 Here ye shall have greater grace, 
 To serve the Lady of this place. 105 
 
 Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, 
 Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. 
 
 Such a rural Queen 
 
 All Arcadia hath not seen. 
 
COMUS. 
 
 A MASK PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE, 1634, BEFORE THE 
 EARL OF BRIDGEWATER, THEN PRESIDENT OF WALES. 
 
 To the Right Honourable, John Lord Viscount Brackley, 
 son and heir-apparent to the Earl of Bridgewater, &c. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 This Poem, which received its first occasion of birth 
 from yourself and others of your noble family, and much 
 honour from your own person in the performance, now 
 returns again to make a final Dedication of itself to you. 
 . Although not openly acknowledged by the Author, yet it 
 is a legitimate offspring, so lovely, and so much desired, 
 that the often copying of it hath tired my pen to give my 
 several friends satisfaction, and brought me to a necessity 
 of producing it to the public view, and now to offer it up, 
 in all rightful devotion, to those fair hopes and rare en- 
 dowments of your much-promising youth, which give a 
 full assurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. 
 Live, sweet Lord, to be the honour of your name; and 
 receive this as your own, from the hands of him who 
 hath by many favours been long obliged to your most 
 honoured Parents, and, as in this representation your 
 attendant Thyrsis, so now in all real expression 
 
 Your faithful and most humble Servant, 
 
 H. Lawes. 
 
 The Copy of a Letter written by Sir Henry Wotton to the 
 Author, upon the following poem. 
 
 From the College, this 13 of April, 1638. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 It was a special favour when you lately bestowed 
 upon me here the first taste of your acquaintance, though 
 
 5* 
 
52 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 no longer than to make me know that I wanted more time 
 to value it and to enjoy it rightly; and, in truth, if I 
 could then have imagined your farther stay in these 
 parts, which I understood afterwards by Mr. H., I would 
 have been bold, in our vulgar phrase, to mend my draught 
 (for you left me with an extreme thirst), and to have 
 begged your conversation again, jointly with your said 
 learned friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might 
 have banded together some good authors of the ancient 
 time: among which I observed you to have been* 
 familiar. 
 
 Since your going, you have charged me with new 
 obligations, both for a very kind letter from you dated 
 the sixth of this month, and for a dainty piece of enter- 
 tainment which came therewith. Wherein I should much 
 commend the tragical part, if the lyrical did not ravish 
 me with a certain Doric delicacy in your songs and odes, 
 whereunto 1 must plainly confess to have seen yet noth- 
 ing parallel in our language : Ipsa mollities. But I must 
 not omit to tell you that I now only owe you thanks for 
 intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true arti- 
 ficer. For the work itself I had viewed some good while 
 before with singular delight; having received it from our 
 common friend Mr. R., in the very close of the late R.'s 
 Poems, printed at Oxford; whereunto it was added (as 
 I now suppose) that the accessory might help out the prin- 
 cipal, according to the art of stationers, and to leave the 
 reader con la bocca dolce. 
 
 Now, Sir, concerning your travels; wherein I may chal- 
 lenge a little more privilege of discourse with you : I sup- 
 pose you will not blanch Paris in your way; therefore I 
 have been bold to trouble you with a few lines to Mr. 
 M. B., whom you shall easily find attending the young 
 Lord S. as his governor; and you may surely receive 
 from him good directions for the shaping of your farther 
 journey into Italy, where he did reside, by my choice, 
 some time for the King, after mine own recess from 
 Venice, 
 
COM us. 53 
 
 I should think that your best line will be through the 
 whole length of France to Marseilles, and thence by sea 
 to Genoa; whence the passage into Tuscany is as diurnal 
 as a Gravesend barge. I hasten, as you do, to Florence 
 or Siena, the rather to tell you a short story, from the 
 interest you have given me in your safety. 
 
 At Siena I was tabled in the house of one Alberto 
 Scipioni, an old Roman courtier in dangerous times; hav- 
 ing been steward to the Duca di Pagliano, who with all 
 his family were strangled, save this only man, that 
 escaped by foresight of the tempest. With him I had 
 often much chat of those affairs, into which he took pleas- 
 ure to look back from his native harbour; and, at my 
 departure toward Rome (which had been the centre of 
 his experience), I had won his confidence enough to beg 
 his advice how I might carry myself securely there, with- 
 out offence of others or of mine own conscience. " Signor 
 Arrigo mio, (says he) / pensieri stretti ed il viso sciolto 
 will go safely over the whole world." Of which Delphian 
 oracle (for s@ I have found it) your judgment doth need 
 no commentary; and therefore (Sir) I will commit you 
 with it to the best of all securities, God's dear love, re- 
 maining 
 
 Your friend as much at command 
 
 as any of longer date, 
 
 Henry Wotton. 
 
 Postscript. 
 
 Sir, I have expressly sent this my footboy to prevent 
 your departure without some acknowledgment from me 
 of the receipt of your obliging letter; having myself 
 through some business, I know not how, neglected the 
 ordinary conveyance. In any part where I shall under- 
 stand you fixed, I shall be glad and diligent to enter- 
 tain you with home novelties; even for some fomen- 
 tation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the 
 cradle, 
 
54 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 THE PERSONS. 
 
 The Attendant Spirit, afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis. 
 
 Comus, with his Crew. 
 
 The Lady. 
 
 First Brother. 
 
 Second Brother. 
 
 Sabrina, the Nymph. 
 
 The Chief Persons which presented were : 
 
 The Lord Brackley, 
 
 Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother, 
 
 The Lady Alice Egerton. 
 
 COMUS. 
 The first Scene discovers a wild wooa. 
 
 The Attendant Spirit descends or enters. 
 
 Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 
 
 My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
 
 Of bright aerial spirits live insphered 
 
 In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 
 Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot S 
 
 Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted 
 
 care, 
 Confined and pestered in this pinfold here, 
 Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 
 Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives, 
 After this mortal change, to her true servants 10 
 Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. 
 Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 
 
com us. 55 
 
 To lay their just hands on that golden key 
 That opes the palace of eternity. 
 To such my errand is; and but for such, 15 
 
 I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds 
 With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 
 But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway 
 Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream, 
 Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove, 20 
 
 Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles 
 That, like to rich and various gems, inlay 
 The unadorned bosom of the deep; 
 Which he, to grace his tributary gods, 
 By course commits to several government, 25 
 
 And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns 
 And wield their little tridents. But this Isle, 
 The greatest and the best of all the main, 
 He quarters to his blue-haired deities; 
 And all this tract that fronts the falling sun, 30 
 
 A noble peer of mickle trust and power 
 Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide 
 An old and haughty nation, proud in arms: 
 Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore, 
 Are coming to attend their father's state, 35 
 
 And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way 
 Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear 
 
 wood, 
 The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
 Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger; 
 And here their tender age might suffer peril, 40 
 But that by quick command from sovran Jove, 
 I was despatched for their defence and guard; 
 
5 6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And listen why; for I will tell you now 
 
 What never yet was heard in tale or song, 
 
 From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. 45 
 
 Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
 Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, 
 After the Tuscan mariners transformed, 
 Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
 On Circe's island fell (who knows not Circe, 5^ 
 The daughter of the Sun ? whose charmed cup 
 Whoever tasted lost his upright shape 
 And downward fell into a grovelling swine): 
 This nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks 
 With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, 55 
 Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son 
 Much like his father, but his mother more, 
 Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus 
 
 named: 
 Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grow r n age, 
 Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 6o 
 
 At last betakes him to this ominous wood, 
 And in thick shelter of black shades imbowered, 
 Excels his mother at her mighty art, 
 Offering to every weary traveller 
 His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 65 
 
 To quench the drouth of Phoebus; which as they 
 
 taste 
 (For most do taste through fond intemperate 
 
 thirst), 
 Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, 
 The express resemblance of the gods, is changed 
 Into some brutish form of wolf or bear, 7° 
 
COM us. 57 
 
 Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, 
 
 All other parts remaining as they were. 
 
 And they, so perfect is their misery, 
 
 Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, 
 
 But boast themselves more comely than before, 75 
 
 And all their friends and native home forget, 
 
 To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 
 
 Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove 
 
 Chances to pass through this adventurous glade, 
 
 Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 80 
 
 I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy, 
 
 As now I do. But first I must put off 
 
 These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris' woof, 
 
 And take the weeds and likeness of a swain 
 
 That to the service of this house belongs, 85 
 
 Who with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song, 
 
 Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, 
 
 And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith, 
 
 And in this office of his mountain watch 
 
 Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 90 
 
 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 
 
 Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now. 
 
 Comus enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the 
 other ; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of 
 wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glis- 
 tering ; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with 
 torches in their hands. 
 
 Comns. The star that bids the shepherd fold, 
 Now the top of heaven doth hold; 
 And the gilded car of day 95 
 
 His glowing axle doth allay 
 In the steep Atlantic stream; 
 
58 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And the slope sun his upward beam 
 
 Shoots against the dusky pole, 
 
 Pacing toward the other goal ioo 
 
 Of his chamber in the east. 
 
 Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast, 
 
 Midnight shout and revelry, 
 
 Tipsy dance and jollity. 
 
 Braid your locks with rosy twine, 105 
 
 Dropping odours, dropping wine. 
 
 Rigour now is gone to bed, 
 
 And Advice with scrupulous head, 
 
 Strict Age, and sour Severity, 
 
 With their grave saws, in slumber lie. no 
 
 We that are of purer fire 
 
 Imitate the starry quire, 
 
 Who in their nightly watchful spheres, 
 
 Lead in swift round the months and years. 
 
 The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 115 
 
 Now to the moon in wavering morrice move; 
 
 And on the tawny sands and shelves 
 
 Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. 
 
 By dimpled brook and fountain brim, 
 
 The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim, 120 
 
 Their merry wakes and pastimes keep: 
 
 What hath night to do with sleep? 
 
 Night hath better sweets to prove ; 
 
 Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. 
 
 Come, let us our rites begin; 125 
 
 'Tis only daylight that makes sin, 
 
 Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 
 
 Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport, 
 
COM us. 59 
 
 Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame 
 
 Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame, 130 
 
 That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb 
 
 Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, 
 
 And makes one blot of all the air; 
 
 Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, 
 
 Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend U5 
 
 Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end 
 
 Of all thy dues be done, and none left out; 
 
 Ere the blabbing eastern scout, 
 
 The nice Morn on the Indian steep, 
 
 From her cabined loop-hole peep, 140 
 
 And to the tell-tale Sun descry 
 
 Our concealed solemnity. 
 
 Come, knit hands, and beat the ground 
 
 In a light fantastic round. 
 
 The Measure. 
 
 Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 145 
 Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
 Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees; 
 Our number may affright: some virgin sure 
 (For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
 Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150 
 And to my wily trains: I shall ere long 
 Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed 
 About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 
 My dazzling spells into the spongy air, 
 Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, 155 
 And give it false presentments, lest the place 
 And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 
 
60 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And put the damsel to suspicious flight; 
 
 Which must not be, for that's against my course. 
 
 I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, 160 
 
 And well-placed words of glozing courtesy, 
 
 Baited with reasons not unplausible, 
 
 Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
 
 And hug him into snares. When once her eye 
 
 Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 165 
 
 I shall appear some harmless villager, 
 
 Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 
 
 But here she comes; I fairly step aside, 
 
 And hearken, if I may, her business here. 169 
 
 The Lady enters. 
 
 Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 
 My best guide now. Methought it was the sound 
 Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
 Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
 Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 174 
 
 When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, 
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, 
 And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath """ 
 To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence 
 Of such late wassailers ; yet oh ! where else 
 Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180 
 
 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 favour of these pines, 
 Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side 185 
 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
 
COM US. 6 1 
 
 As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
 
 They left me then when the grey-hooded Even, 
 
 Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, 189 
 
 Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 
 
 But where they are, and why they came not back, 
 
 Is now the labour of my thoughts: 'tis likeliest 
 
 They had engaged their wandering steps too far; 
 
 And envious darkness, ere they could return, 
 
 Had stole them from me; else, O thievish Night, 
 
 Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 196 
 
 In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars 
 
 That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps 
 
 With everlasting oil, to give due light 
 
 To the misled and lonely traveller? 200 
 
 This is the place, as well as I may guess, 
 
 Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 
 
 Was rife and perfect in my listening ear; 
 
 Yet naught but single darkness do I find. 
 
 What might this be? A thousand fantasies 205 
 
 Begin to throng into my memory, 
 
 Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, 
 
 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 211 
 
 By a strong siding champion, Conscience. 
 
 O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 
 
 Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, 
 
 And thou unblemished form of Chastity! 215 
 
 I see ye visibly, and now believe 
 
 That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill 
 
62 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, 
 
 Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, 
 
 To keep my life and honour unassailed. — 220 
 
 Was I deceived, 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. 225 
 
 I cannot hallo to my brothers, but 
 
 Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 
 
 Fll venture; for my new-enlivened spirits 
 
 Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen 
 
 Within thy airy shell 231 
 
 By slow Meander's margent green, 
 And in the violet-embroidered vale 
 
 Where the love-lorn nightingale 
 Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well : 235 
 Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 
 That likest thy Narcissus are? 
 
 O, if thou have 
 Hid them in some flowery cave, 
 
 Tell me but where, 240 
 
 Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere! 
 So may'st thou be translated to the skies, 
 And give resounding grace to all heaven's har- 
 monies! 
 
COMUS. 63 
 
 Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
 Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? 245 
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
 To testify his hidden residence. 
 How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
 Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 250 
 At every fall smoothing the raven down 
 Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard 
 My mother Circe with the Sirens three, 
 Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, 
 Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, 255 
 Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul 
 And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept, 
 And chid her barking waves into attention, 
 And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause. 
 Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 260 
 And in sweet madness robbed 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, 264 
 
 And she shall be my queen. — Hail, foreign wonder! 
 Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, 
 Unless the goddess that in rural shrine 
 Dwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song 
 Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 269 
 
 To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 
 
 Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
 That is addressed to unattending ears. 
 Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 
 How to regain my severed company, 
 
64 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo 275 
 To give me answer from her mossy couch. 
 
 Comus. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft 
 
 you thus? 
 Lady. Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth. 
 Comus. Could that divide you from near-usher- 
 ing guides? 
 Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280 
 Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why? 
 Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly 
 
 spring. 
 Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, 
 
 Lady? 
 Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick 
 
 return. 
 Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented 
 them. 285 
 
 Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit! 
 Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present 
 
 need? 
 Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. 
 Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful 
 
 bloom? 
 Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips. 
 Comus. Two such I saw, what time the la- 
 boured ox 291 
 In his loose traces from the furrow came, 
 And the swinked hedger at his supper sat. 
 I saw them under a green mantling vine, 
 That crawls along the side of yon small hill, 295 
 Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots; 
 
COMUS. 65 
 
 Their port was more than human, as they stood. 
 
 I took it for a faery vision 
 
 Of some gay creatures of the element, 
 
 That in the colours of the rainbow live, 300 
 
 And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook, 
 
 And as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek, 
 
 It were a journey like the path of Heaven 
 
 To help you find them. 
 
 Lady, Gentle villager, 304 
 
 What readiest way would bring me to that place? 
 Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 
 Lady. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose, 
 In such a scant allowance of star-light, 
 Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
 Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 310 
 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 neighbourhood; 
 And if your stray attendance be yet lodged, 315 
 
 Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 
 Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
 From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise, 
 I can conduct you, Lady, to a low 
 But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320 
 
 Till further quest. 
 
 Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, 
 
 And trust thy honest-offered courtesy, 
 Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds, 
 With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls 
 And courts of princes, where it first was named, 325 
 
66 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 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 329 
 To my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 The Two Brothers enter. 
 
 Elder Brother. Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, 
 fair moon, 
 That wont'st to love the traveller's benison, 
 Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, 
 And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
 In double night of darkness and of shades; 335 ' 
 
 Or if your influence be quite dammed up 
 With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, 
 Though a rush candle from the wicker hole 
 Of some clay habitation, visit us 
 With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 340 
 And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, 
 Or Tyrian Cynosure. 
 
 Second Brother. 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 
 
COM US. 67 
 
 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. 
 What if in wild amazement and affright, 356 
 
 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: 
 
68 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, 
 Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; 
 Himself is his own dungeon. 
 
 Second Brother. 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 misers' 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. 
 
 Elder Brother. 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 
 
COM US. 69 
 
 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. 
 
 Second Brother. What hidden strength, 
 
 Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that? 
 
 Elder Brother. 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 unharboured 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, 43° 
 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 
 
?o MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 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 naught 
 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, 45° 
 
 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 
 
COM US. . 7 1 
 
 Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres, 47i 
 
 Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave, 
 
 As loath 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. 
 
 Elder Brother. List, list! I hear 
 
 Some far-off hallo break the silent air. 481 
 
 Sec. Bro. Methought so too; what should it be? 
 
 Elder Brother. For certain, 
 
 Either some one, like us, night-foundered here, 
 Or else some neighbour woodman, or at worst, 
 Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 485 
 
 Second Brother. Heaven keep my sister ! Again, 
 again, and near! 
 Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 
 
 Elder Brother. Til hallo. 
 
 If he be friendly, he comes well; if not, 
 Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us! 
 
 Enter the Attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd. 
 
 That hallo I should know. What are you ? speak. 
 Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else. 49i 
 Spirit. What voice is that? my young lord? speak 
 
 again. 
 Second Brother. O Brother, 'tis my father's shep- 
 herd, sure. 
 
72 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Elder Brother. Thyrsis? whose artful strains 
 have oft delayed 
 The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 495 
 
 And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale: 
 How cam'st 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 couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook? 
 
 Spirit, O my loved master's heir, and his next 
 joy, 501 
 
 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 
 To this my errand, and the care it brought. 506 
 But oh ! my virgin lady, where is she ? 
 How chance she is not in your company? 
 
 Elder Brother. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, with- 
 out blame 
 Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510 
 
 Spirit. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. 
 
 Elder Brother. What fears, good Thyrsis? 
 Prithee briefly shew. 
 
 Spirit. I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous 
 (Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance) 
 What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, 
 Storied of old in high immortal verse 516 
 
 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 
 
COM US. 73 
 
 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 how r l 
 Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey, 
 Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 535 
 
 In their obscured 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 54° 
 Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 
 Of knot-grass dew T -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; 55° 
 
74 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 At which I ceased, and listened them awhile, 
 
 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 honoured lady, your dear sister. 
 
 Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear; 565 
 
 And ' O poor hapless nightingale/ thought I, 
 
 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 neighbour 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. 
 
 
COM us. 75 
 
 Second Brother. 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? 
 
 Elder Brother. 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 
 JWhich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm : 
 Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt; 
 Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled; 59° 
 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 
 'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, 606 
 
 And force him to return his purchase back, 
 Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 
 Cursed as his life. 
 
?6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Spirit. 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. 
 
 Elder Brother. Why prithee, shepherd, 615 
 
 How durst thou then thyself approach so near 
 As to make this relation? 
 
 Spirit. 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. 
 
COM us. 77 
 
 He called it Haemony, and gave it me, 
 
 And bade me keep it as of sovran use 
 
 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 
 
 Or ghastly Furies' apparition. 641 
 
 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! 
 
 The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of de- 
 liciousness : soft music, tables spread with all dainties. COMUS 
 appears ivith his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair; 
 to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise. 
 
 C omits. 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 
 
78 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
 Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. 
 
 Comus. Why are you vexed, Lady? why do you 
 frown? 666 
 
 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 
 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 
 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. 
 
COM US. 10 
 
 Was this the cottage and the safe abode 
 Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these, 
 These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me! 
 Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul de- 
 ceiver! 696 
 Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence 
 With vizored falsehood and base forgery? 
 And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
 With lickerish 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 odours, 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 
 
80 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse, 
 Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, 
 The All-giver would be unthanked, would be un- 
 
 praised, 
 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, 
 Unsavoury 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. 
 
COM US. 8 1 
 
 It is for homely features to keep home; 
 They had their name thence: coarse complexions 
 And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 75° 
 
 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 
 
82 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 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 enough? 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 79° 
 
 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. 
 
 C omits. 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! 
 
COM US. 83 
 
 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. 
 
 The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of 
 his hand, and break it against the ground ; his rout make sign of 
 resistance, but are all driven in. The Attendant Spirit comes in. 
 
 Spirit. What, have you let the false enchanter 
 scape? 
 Oh, ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand, 
 And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed, 816 
 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 Meliboeus 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 
 
84 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 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, 
 
 Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 851 
 
 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. 
 
COM US. 85 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sabrina fair, 
 
 Listen where thou art sitting 860 
 
 Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 
 
 In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
 The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; 
 Listen for dear honour's sake, 
 Goddess of the silver lake, 865 
 
 Listen and save! 
 
 Listen, and appear to us, 
 
 In name of great Oceanus, 
 
 By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 
 
 And Tethys' grave majestic pace; 870 
 
 By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 
 
 And the Carpathian wizard's hook; 
 
 By scaly Triton's winding shell, 
 
 And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell; 
 
 By Leucothea's lovely hands, 875 
 
 And her son that rules the strands; 
 
 By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, 
 
 And the songs of Sirens sweet ; 
 
 By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 
 
 And fair Ligea's golden comb, 880 
 
 Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks 
 
 Sleeking her soft alluring locks; 
 
 By all the nymphs that nightly dance 
 
 Upon thy streams with wily glance; 
 
 Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 885 
 
 From thy coral-paven bed, 
 
86 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And bridle in thy headlong wave, 
 Till thou our summons answered have. 
 Listen and save! 
 
 Sabrina rises, attended by Water-nymphs, and sings. 
 
 By the rushy-fringed bank, 890 
 
 Where grows the willow and the osier dank, 
 
 My sliding chariot stays, 
 Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen 
 Of turkis blue, and emerald green, 
 
 That in the channel strays; 895 
 
 Whilst from off the waters fleet 
 Thus I set my printless feet 
 O'er the cowslip's velvet, head, 
 
 That bends not as I tread. 
 Gentle swain, at thy request 900 
 
 I am here. 
 
 Spirit. Goddess dear, 
 We implore thy powerful hand 
 To undo the charmed band 
 Of true virgin here distressed 905 
 
 Through the force and through the wile 
 Of unblest enchanter vile. 
 
 Sabrina. Shepherd, 'tis my office best 
 To help ensnared chastity. 
 Brightest Lady, look on me. 910 
 
 Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 
 Drops that from my fountain pure 
 I have kept of precious cure; 
 Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 
 Thrice upon thy rubied lip; 9 1 ? 
 
COMUS. 87 
 
 Next, this marble venomed seat, 
 
 Smeared with gums of glutinous heat, 
 
 I touch with chaste palms moist and cold. 
 
 Now the spell hath lost his hold; 
 
 And I must haste ere morning hour 920 
 
 To wait in Amphitrite's bower. 
 
 Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat. 
 
 Spirit. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, 
 Sprung. of old Anchises' line, 
 May thy brimmed waves for this 
 Their full tribute never miss 925 
 
 From a thousand petty rills, 
 That tumble down the snowy hills; 
 Summer drouth or singed air 
 Never scorch thy tresses fair, 
 Nor wet October's torrent flood 930 
 
 Thy molten crystal fill with mud; 
 May thy billows roll ashore 
 The beryl and the golden ore ; 
 May thy lofty head be crowned 
 With many a tower and terrace round, 935 
 And here and there thy banks upon . 
 With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 
 
 Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace, 
 Let us fly this cursed place, 
 Lest the sorcerer us entice 94° 
 
 With some other new device. 
 Not a waste or needless sound 
 Till we come to holier ground. 
 I shall be ycur faithful guide 
 
88 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Through this gloomy covert wide; 945 
 
 And not many furlongs thence 
 
 Is your father's residence, 
 
 Where this night are met in state 
 
 Many a friend to gratulate 
 
 His wished presence, and beside, 95° 
 
 All the swains that there abide, 
 
 With jigs and rural dance resort. 
 
 We shall catch them at their sport, 
 
 And our sudden coming there 
 
 Will double all their mirth and cheer. 955 
 
 Come, let us haste; the stars grow high, 
 
 But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 
 
 The Scene changes^ presenting Ludlow Town and the President's 
 Castle; then come in Country Dancers ; after them /^ATTEND- 
 ANT Spirit, with the two Brothers, and the Lady. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Spirit. Back, shepherds, back! Enough your 
 play 
 Till next sun-shine holiday. 
 
 Here be, without duck or nod, » 960 
 
 Other trippings to be trod 
 Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
 As Mercury did first devise 
 With the mincing Dryades 
 On the lawns and on the leas, 965 
 
 
COMUS. 89 
 
 This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. 
 
 Noble Lord, and Lady bright, 
 I have brought ye new delight: 
 Here behold so goodly grown 
 Three fair branches of your own. 
 Heaven hath timely tried their youth, 97° 
 
 Their faith, their patience, and their truth, 
 And sent them here through hard assays 
 With a crown of deathless praise, 
 To triumph in victorious dance 
 O'er sensual folly and intemperance. 975 
 
 The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes. 
 
 Spirit. To the ocean now I fly, 
 And those happy climes that lie 
 Where day never shuts his eye, 
 Up in the broad fields of the sky. 
 There I suck the liquid air, 980 
 
 All amidst the gardens fair 
 Of Hesperus, and his daughters three 
 That sing about the golden tree. 
 Along the crisped shades and bowers 
 Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; 985 
 
 The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours 
 Thither all their bounties bring. 
 There eternal summer dwells, 
 And west winds with musky wing 
 About the cedarn alleys fling 990 
 
 Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
 Iris there with humid bow 
 
90 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Waters the odorous banks, that blow 
 
 Flowers of more mingled hue 
 
 Than her purfled scarf can shew, 995 
 
 And drenches with Elysian dew 
 
 (List, mortals, if your ears be true) 
 
 Beds of hyacinth and roses, 
 
 Where young Adonis oft reposes, 
 
 Waxing well of his deep wound, 1000 
 
 In slumber soft, and on the ground 
 
 Sadly sits the Assyrian queen. 
 
 But far above, in spangled sheen, 
 
 Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced, 
 
 Holds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced, 1005 
 
 After her wandering labours long, 
 
 Till free consent the gods among 
 
 Make her his eternal bride, 
 
 And from her fair unspotted side 
 
 Two blissful twins are to be born, 1010 
 
 Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn. 
 
 But now my task is smoothly done; 
 I can fly, or I can run 
 Quickly to the green earth's end, 
 Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, 1015 
 And from thence can soar as soon 
 To the corners of the moon. 
 
 Mortals that would follow me, 
 Love Virtue; she alone is free: 
 She can teach ye how to climb 1020 
 
 Higher than the sphery chime; 
 Or if Virtue feeble were, 
 Heaven itself would stoop to her. 
 
 
 
LYCIDAS. 
 
 In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately 
 drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637; and 
 by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in their 
 height. 
 
 Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 
 
 Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
 
 I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
 
 And with forced fingers rude 
 
 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 
 
 Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear 
 
 Compels me to disturb your season due; 
 
 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
 
 Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 10 
 
 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
 
 He must not float upon his watery bier 
 
 Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
 
 Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
 
 Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well 15 
 
 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; 
 Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
 Hence with denial vain and coy excuse; 
 So may some gentle Muse 
 
 With lucky words favour my destined urn, 20 
 
 And as he passes turn, 
 And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 
 
92 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
 Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill ; 
 Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 25 
 
 Under the opening eyelids of the morn, 
 We drove a-field, and both together heard 
 What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 
 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
 Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright, 30 
 
 Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering 
 
 wheel. 
 Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 
 Tempered to the oaten flute; 
 
 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 
 From the glad sound would not be absent long; 35 
 And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 
 
 But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, 
 Now thou art gone, and never must return ! 
 Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, 
 With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 
 And all their echoes, mourn. 41 
 
 The willows and the hazel copses green 
 Shall now no more be seen, 
 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
 As killing as the canker to the rose, 45 
 
 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, 
 Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 
 When first the white-thorn blows; 
 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 
 
 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless 
 deep 50 
 
 Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas? 
 
LYCIDAS. 93 
 
 For neither were ye playing on the steep 
 
 Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 
 
 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 
 
 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. 55 
 
 Ay me, I fondly dream! 
 
 Had ye been there — for what could that have done? 
 
 What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 
 
 The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, 
 
 Whom universal nature did lament, 60 
 
 When by the rout that made the hideous roar, 
 
 His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
 
 Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? 
 
 Alas! what boots it with uncessant care 
 To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade, 65 
 And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? 
 Were it not better done, as others use, 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
 Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair? 
 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 7° 
 (That last infirmity of noble mind) 
 To scorn delights and live laborious days; 
 But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
 Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 75 
 And slits the thin-spun life. ' But not the praise/ 
 Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears : 
 ' Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 
 Nor in the glistering foil 
 
 Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies; 80 
 But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes 
 And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; 
 
94 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
 
 Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed/ 84 
 
 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, 
 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, 
 That strain I heard was of a higher mood: 
 But now my oat proceeds, 
 And listens to the herald of the sea, 
 That came in Neptune's plea. 90 
 
 He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 
 What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? 
 And questioned every gust of rugged wings 
 That blows from off each beaked promontory: 
 They knew not of his story ; 95 
 
 And sage Hippotades their answer brings, 
 That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed; 
 The air was calm, and on the level brine 
 Sieek Panope with all her sisters played. 
 It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100 
 
 Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, 
 That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 
 
 Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, 
 His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, 
 Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105 
 Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. 
 ' Ah ! who hath reft/ quoth he, ■ my dearest 
 
 pledge? ' 
 Last came, and last did go, 
 The pilot of the Galilean lake; 
 Two massy keys he bore of metals twain no 
 
 (The golden opes/the iron shuts amain). 
 He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: 
 
LYCIDAS. 95 
 
 1 How well could I have spared for thee, young 
 
 swain, 
 Enough of such as for their bellies' sake, 
 Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! 115 
 
 Of other care they little reckoning make 
 Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, 
 And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 
 Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to 
 
 hold 
 A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least 
 That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121 
 
 What recks it them? What need they? They are 
 
 sped; 
 And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 
 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 
 The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 125 
 But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, 
 Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; 
 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
 Daily devours apace, and nothing said. 
 But that two-handed engine at the door 130 
 
 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.' 
 
 Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past 
 That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, 
 And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
 Their bells and flowrets of a thousand hues. i35 
 Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
 Of shades and wanton winds and gushing brooks, 
 On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, 
 Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
 That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 
 
96 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 141 
 Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
 The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 
 The glowing violet, 145 
 
 The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
 And every flower that sad embroidery wears; 
 Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 
 And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, 150 
 
 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 
 For so to interpose a little ease, 
 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, 
 Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 
 Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled; 155 
 Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
 Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 
 Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world; 
 Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 
 Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160 
 
 Where the great vision of the guarded mount 
 Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold. 
 Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth; 
 And O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. 
 
 Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, 
 For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, 166 
 
 Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: 171 
 
LYCIDAS. 97 
 
 So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
 
 Through the dear might of him that walked the 
 
 waves, 
 Where, other groves and other streams along, 
 With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, L 175 
 And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
 There entertain him all the saints above, 
 In solemn troops and sweet societies, 
 That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 
 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
 Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; 
 Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, 
 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
 To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185 
 
 Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and 
 
 rills, 
 While the still morn went out with sandals gray; 
 He touched the tender stops of various quills, 
 With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: 
 And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 19° 
 And now was dropt into the western bay. 
 ^ At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: 
 , To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 TQ THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 
 
 Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, 
 Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, 
 While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. 
 
 Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, 5 
 
 First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, 
 Portend success in love. O, if Jove's will 
 Have linked that amorous power to thy soft 
 lay, 
 
 Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate 9 
 
 Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh ; 
 As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
 
 For my relief, yet hadst no reason why. 
 
 Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate, 
 Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 
 
 ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF 
 TWENTY-THREE. 
 
 How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, 
 Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth 
 
 year! 
 My hasting days fly on with full career, 
 But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. 
 Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth 5 
 
 98 
 
SONNETS. 99 
 
 That I to manhood am arrived so near; 
 And inward ripeness doth much less appear, 
 That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. 
 
 Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, 
 
 It shall be still in strictest measure even 10 
 To that same lot, however mean or high, 
 
 Toward which Time leads me, and the will of 
 Heaven; 
 All is, if I have grace to use it so, 
 As ever in my great Task-Master's eye. 
 
 WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY. 
 
 Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in arms, 
 
 Whose chance on these defenceless doors may 
 
 seize, 
 If ever deed of honour did thee please, 
 Guard them, and him within protect from 
 harms. 
 
 He can requite thee ; for he knows the charms 5 
 That call fame on such gentle acts as these, 
 And he can spread thy name o'er lands and 
 
 seas, 
 Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 
 
 Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: 
 
 The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 10 
 The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower 
 
 Went to the ground; and the repeated air 
 Of sad Electra's poet had the power 
 To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
ioo MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth 
 
 Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the 
 
 green, 
 And with those few art eminently seen 
 That labour up the hill of heavenly truth, 
 The better part with Mary and with Ruth 5 
 
 Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, 
 And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, 
 No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. 
 Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 
 
 To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 10 
 And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be 
 sure 
 Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful 
 friends 
 Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night, 
 Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and 
 pure. 
 
 TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. 
 
 Daughter to that good Earl, once President 
 Of England's Council and her Treasury, 
 Who lived in both, unstained with gold or fee, 
 And left them both, more in himself content, 
 
 Till the sad breaking of that Parliament 5 
 
 Broke him, as that dishonest victory 
 At Chaeronea, fatal to liberty, 
 
SONNETS. IOI 
 
 Killed with report that old man eloquent; 
 
 Though later born than to have known the days 
 Wherein your father flourished, yet by you, 10 
 Madam, methinks I see him living yet: 
 
 So well your words his noble virtues praise 
 That all both judge you to relate them true 
 And to possess them, honoured Margaret. 
 
 ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY 
 WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES. 
 
 A book was writ of late called Tetrachordon, 
 
 And woven close, both matter, form, and style ; 
 The subject new: it walked the town a while, 
 Numbering good intellects; now seldom 
 poured on. 
 Cries the stall-reader, - Bless us ! what a word on 5 
 A title-page is this ! ' ; and some in file 
 Stand spelling false, while one might walk to 
 
 Mile- 
 End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than 
 Gordon, 
 Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? 
 
 Those rugged names to our like mouths grow 
 sleek io 
 
 That would have made Quintilian stare and 
 gasp. 
 Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek, 
 Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, 
 When thou taught'st Cambridge and King 
 Edward Greek. 
 
102 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 ON THE SAME. 
 
 I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs 
 By the known rules of ancient liberty, 
 When straight a barbarous noise environs me 
 Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs; 
 
 As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs 
 Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny, 6 
 
 Which after held the sun and moon in fee. 
 But this is got by casting pearl to hogs, 
 
 That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 
 And still revolt when truth would set them free. 
 Licence they mean when they cry Liberty; n 
 
 For who loves that must first be wise and good: 
 But from that mark how far they rove we see, 
 For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood. 
 
 ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER 
 THE LONG PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Because you have thrown off your Prelate Lord, 
 And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy, 
 To seize the widowed whore Plurality 
 From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred ; 
 
 Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword 5 
 
 To force our consciences that Christ set free, 
 And ride us with a classic hierarchy, 
 Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rutherford? 
 
 Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, 
 Would have been held in high esteem with 
 Paul, 10 
 
SONNETS. 103 
 
 Must now be named and printed heretics 
 By shallow Edwards and Scotch What-d'ye-call! 
 But we do hope to find out all your tricks, 
 Your plots and packing, worse than those of 
 Trent ; 
 
 That so the Parliament 15 
 
 May with their wholesome and preventive shears 
 Clip your phylacteries, though baulk your ears, 
 
 And succour our just fears, 
 When they shall read this clearly in your charge: 
 New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large. 20 
 
 TO MR. H. LAWES ON HIS AIRS. 
 
 Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song 
 First taught our English music how to span 
 Words with just note and accent, not to scan 
 With Midas' ears, committing short and long: 
 
 Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, 
 With praise enough for Envy to look wan : 6 
 To after age thou shalt be writ the man 
 That with smooth air couldst humour best our 
 tongue. 
 
 Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing 
 To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire, 10 
 That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn or 
 story. 
 
 Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher 
 Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing, 
 Met in the milder shades of Purgatory. 
 
I04 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHARINE 
 THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED DEC. 
 1 6, 1646. 
 
 When Faith and Love, which parted from thee 
 never, 
 Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 
 Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
 Of death, called life, which us from life doth 
 sever. 
 Thy works and alms and all thy good endeavour 5 
 Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod; 
 But as Faith pointed with her golden rod, 
 Followed thee up to joy and bliss forever. 
 Love led them on; and Faith, who knew them best 
 Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple 
 beams 10 
 
 And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 
 And speak the truth of thee on glorious themes 
 Before the Judge; who henceforth bid thee 
 
 rest, 
 And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 
 
 ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX, AT THE SIEGE 
 OF COLCHESTER. 
 
 Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe 
 rings, 
 Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, 
 And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, 
 
 
SOJVNZTS. iO^ 
 
 And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings, 
 Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 5 
 
 Victory home, though new rebellions raise 
 
 Their hydra heads, and the false North dis- 
 plays 
 
 Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 
 O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand 
 
 (For what can war but endless war still 
 breed?) 10 
 
 Till truth and right from violence be freed, 
 And public faith cleared from the shameful brand 
 
 Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed, 
 
 While Avarice and Rapine share the land. 
 
 TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, 
 
 MAY, 1652. 
 
 ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE 
 COMMITTEE FOR PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
 Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
 Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 
 To peace and truth thy glorious way hast 
 ploughed, 
 And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud 5 
 
 Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pur- 
 sued, 
 While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots im- 
 brued, 
 
106 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, 
 And Worcester's laureate wreath: yet much re- 
 mains 
 To conquer still; peace hath her victories 10 
 No less renowned than war: new foes arise, 
 Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. 
 Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
 Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 
 
 TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. 
 
 Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old, 
 Than w T hom a better senator ne'er held 
 The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, 
 
 repelled 
 The fierce Epirot and the African bold, 
 
 Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 5 
 
 The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; 
 Then to advise how war may best upheld 
 Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, 
 
 In all her equipage; besides, to know 
 
 Both spiritual power and civil, what each 
 means, 10 
 
 What severs each, thou hast learned, which 
 few have done. 
 
 The bounds of either sword to thee we owe: 
 Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans 
 In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. 
 
SONNETS. 107 
 
 ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT. 
 
 Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose 
 bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; 
 Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
 When all our fathers worshiped stocks and 
 stones, 
 Forget not: in thy book record their groans 5 
 
 Who -were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. Their 
 moans 
 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
 
 To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes 
 sow 10 
 
 O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
 The triple tyrant; that from these may grow 
 A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, 
 Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 
 
 ON HIS BLINDNESS. 
 
 When I consider how my light is spent 
 
 Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide. 
 And that one talent which is death to hide 
 Lodged with me useless, though my soul more 
 bent 
 
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 5 
 
 My true account, lest he returning chide; 
 
lo8 MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 ' Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?' 
 I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 
 
 That murmur, soon replies, ' God doth not need 
 Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His 
 state ii 
 
 Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, 
 
 And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 
 They also serve who only stand and wait.' 
 
 TO MR. LAWRENCE. 
 
 Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, 
 
 Now that the fields are dank, and ways are 
 
 mire, 
 Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the 
 
 fire 
 Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 
 
 From the hard season gaining? Time will run 5 
 On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 
 The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
 The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun. 
 
 What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 9 
 Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
 To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 
 
 Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 
 
 He who of those delights can judge, and spare 
 To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 
 
SONNETS. 16$ 
 
 TO CYRIACK SKINNER. 
 
 Cyriack, whose grandsire on the royal bench 
 Of British Themis, with no mean applause, 
 Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our 
 
 laws, 
 Which others at their bar so often wrench; 
 
 To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 5 
 In mirth that after no repenting draws ; 
 Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, 
 And what the Swede intends, and what the 
 French. 
 
 To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 9 
 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; 
 For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, 
 
 And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
 That with superfluous burden loads the day, 
 And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though 
 clear 
 To outward view, of blemish or of spot, 
 Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; 
 Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 
 
 Of sun or moon or star throughout the year, 5 
 
 Or man or woman. Yet I argue not 
 Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot 
 Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer 
 
HO MILTON'S LYRIC POEMS. 
 
 Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? 
 The conscience, friend, to have lost them over- 
 plied io 
 In liberty's defence, my noble task, 
 Of which all Europe talks from side to side. 
 
 This thought might lead me through the 
 
 world's vain mask 
 Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 
 
 ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. 
 
 Methought I saw my late espoused saint 
 
 Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, 
 Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband 
 
 gave, 
 Rescued from Death by force, though pale and 
 faint. 
 Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint 
 Purification in the old law did save, 6 
 
 And such as yet once more I trust to have 
 Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, 
 Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. 
 
 Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight io 
 Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person 
 shined 
 So clear as in no face with more delight. 
 But oh! as to embrace me she inclined, 
 I waked, she fled, and day brought back my 
 night. 
 
 
SONNETS. HI 
 
 THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I. ENGLISHED. 
 
 Quis mtclta gracilis te puer in rosa. 
 
 Rendered almost word for word, without rhyme, accord- 
 ing to the Latin measure, as near as the language will 
 permit. 
 
 What slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours, 
 Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, 
 
 Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou 
 
 In wreaths thy golden hair, 
 Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he 
 On faith and changed gods complain, and seas 
 
 Rough with black winds and storms, 
 
 Unwonted shall admire, 
 Who now enjoys thee credulous all gold; 
 Who always vacant, always amiable 
 
 Hopes thee, of flattering gales 
 
 Unmindful! Hapless they 
 To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my 
 
 vowed 
 Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung 
 
 My dank and dropping weeds 
 
 To the stern god of sea. 
 
SAMSON AGON1STES. 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 
 
 ArISTOT. Poet. cap. 6. Tpayydla fiifJLTjcris 7rpd£ecjs airovSalas, 
 &c. — Tragoedia est imitatio actionis seriae, &c, per miseri- 
 cordiam & metum perficiens talium affectuum lustra- 
 tionem. 
 
 OF THAT SORT OF DRAMATIC POEM WHICH IS CALLED 
 TRAGEDY. 
 
 Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever 
 held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other 
 poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by 
 raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of 
 those and such-like passions; that is, to temper and re- 5 
 duce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred 
 up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. 
 Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make good 
 his assertion; for so, in physic, things of melancholic hue 
 and quality are used against melancholy, sour against 10 
 sour, salt to remove salt humours. Hence philosophers 
 and other gravest writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, 
 frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and 
 illustrate their discourse. The Apostle Paul himself 
 thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides 15 
 into the text of Holy Scripture, 1 Cor. xv. 33; and Paraeus, 
 commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole book 
 as a tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a Chorus of 
 heavenly harpings and song between. Heretofore men 
 in highest dignity have laboured not a little to be thought 2 o 
 able to compose a tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius 
 
 ht 20 
 
 LIS 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 113 
 
 the elder was no less ambitious, than before of his attain- 
 ing to the tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his 
 Ajax, but, unable to please his own judgment with what 
 he had begun, left it unfinished. Seneca, the philosopher, 25 
 is by some thought the author of those tragedies (at least 
 the best of them) that go under that name. Gregory 
 Nazianzen, a Father of the Church, thought it not unbe- 
 seeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy, 
 which he entitled Christ Suffering. This is mentioned to 3° 
 vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, 
 which in the account of many it undergoes at this day, 
 with other common interludes: happening through the 
 poet's error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness 
 and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons; 35 
 which by all judicious hath been counted absurd, and 
 brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the 
 people. And though ancient tragedy use no prologue, 
 yet using sometimes, in case of self-defence, or explana- 
 tion, that which Martial calls an epistle; in behalf of this 40 
 tragedy, coming forth after the ancient manner, much 
 different from what among us passes for best, thus much 
 beforehand may be epistled: that Chorus is here intro- 
 duced after the Greek manner, not ancient only, but 
 modern, and still in use among the Italians. In the 45 
 modelling therefore of this poem, with good reason, the 
 ancients and Italians are rather followed, as of much 
 more authority and fame. The measure of verse used in 
 the Chorus is of all sorts, called by the Greeks Mono- 
 strophic, or rather Apolelymenon, without regard had to 50 
 Strophe, Antistrophe, or Epode, — which were a kind of 
 stanzas framed only for the music then used with the 
 Chorus that sung; not essential to the poem, and there- 
 fore not material; or, being divided into stanzas or pauses, 
 they may be called Allceostropha. Division into act and 55 
 scene, referring chiefly to the stage (to which this work 
 never was intended), is here omitted. 
 
 It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced 
 beyond the fifth act. Of the style and uniformity, and 
 
IT4 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 that commonly called the plot, whether intricate or 60 
 explicit, — which is nothing indeed but such economy or 
 disposition of the fable, as may stand best with veri- 
 similitude and decorum, — they only will best judge who 
 are not unacquainted with ^Eschylus, Sophocles, and 
 Euripides, the three tragic poets unequalled yet by any, 65 
 and the best rule to all who endeavour to write tragedy. 
 The circumscription of time, wherein the whole drama 
 begins and ends, is, according to ancient rule and best ex- 
 ample, within the space of twenty-four hours. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Samson, made captive, blind, and now in the prison at 
 Gaza, there to labour as in a common workhouse, on a 
 festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes 
 forth into the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, 
 there to sit awhile and bemoan his condition. Where he 5 
 happens at length to be visited by certain friends and 
 equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, who seek to 
 comfort him what they can; then by his old father, 
 Manoa, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his 
 purpose to procure his liberty by ransom; lastly, that this 10 
 feast was proclaimed by the Philistines as a day of thanks- 
 giving for their deliverance from the hands of Samson, — 
 which yet more troubles him. Manoa then departs to 
 prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian lords for 
 Samson's redemption; who in the meanwhile is visited 15 
 by other persons; and lastly by a public officer to require 
 his coming to the feast before the lords and people, to 
 play or show his strength in their presence; he at first 
 refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial 
 to come; at length, persuaded inwardly that this was from 2 o 
 God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the 
 second time with great threatenings to fetch him: the 
 Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of 
 joyful hope, to procure ere long his son's deliverance; in 
 the midst of which discourse an Ebrew comes in haste, 25 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1 15 
 
 confusedly at first, and afterwards more distinctly, relat- 
 ing the catastrophe, — what Samson had done to the 
 Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the 
 tragedy ends. 
 
 the persons. 
 
 Samson. 
 
 Manoa, the Father of Samson. 
 Dalila,. his Wife. 
 Harapha of Gath. 
 Public Officer. 
 Messenger. 
 Chorus of Danites. 
 The Scene, before the Prison in Gaza. 
 
 SAMSON AGONISTES. 
 
 Samson. 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, 5 
 
 Daily in the common prison else enjoined me, 
 Where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely draw 
 The air, imprisoned also, close and damp, 
 Unwholesome draught. But here I feel amends, 
 The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet, 
 With day-spring born; here leave me to respire. " 
 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 *5 
 
Il6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 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 swarm 
 
 Of hornets armed, no sooner found alone 20 
 
 But rush upon me thronging, and present 
 
 Times past, what once I was, and what am now. 
 
 Oh, wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold 
 
 Twice by an angel, who at last, in sight 
 
 Of both my parents, all in flames ascended 25 
 
 From off the altar where an offering burned, 
 
 As in a fiery column charioting 
 
 His godlike presence, and from some great act 
 
 Or benefit revealed to Abraham's race? 
 
 Why was my breeding ordered and prescribed 30 
 
 As of a person separate to God, 
 
 Designed for great exploits, if I must die 
 
 Betrayed, captived, 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 glorious 
 
 strength, 
 Put to the labour of a beast, debased 
 Lower than bond-slave! Promise was that I 
 Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver: 
 Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him 40 
 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 
 Had been fulfilled but through mine own default? 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 117 
 
 Whom have I to complain of but myself? 46 
 
 Who this high gift of strength committed to me, 
 
 In what part lodged, how easily bereft me, 
 
 Under the seal of silence could not keep, 
 
 But weakly to a woman must reveal it, 50 
 
 Overcome 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 55 
 
 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 60 
 
 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 65 
 
 Would ask a life to wail; but chief of all, 
 
 O loss of sigtfV, 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, 70 
 
 And all her various objects of delight 
 
 Annulled, which might in part my grief have eased: 
 
 Inferior to the vilest now become 
 
 Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me: 
 
 They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed 75 
 
 To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong, 
 
Ii8 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Within doors, or without, still as a fool, 
 
 In power of others, never in my own; 
 
 Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half. 
 
 O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 80 
 
 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 bereaved thy prime decree? 85 
 
 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, 90 
 
 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 confined, 
 
 So obvious and so easy to be quenched? 95 
 
 And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused, 
 
 That she might look at will through every pore? 
 
 Then had I not been thus exiled from light, 
 
 As in the land of darkness, yet in light, 
 
 To live a life half dead, a living death, 100 
 
 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; 105 
 
 But made hereby obnoxious more 
 
 To all the miseries of life, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 119 
 
 Life in captivity 
 
 Among inhuman foes. 
 
 But who are these? for with joint pace I hear no 
 
 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. 
 
 Chorus. This, this is he; softly a while; 115 
 
 Let us not break in upon him. 
 O change beyond report, thought, or belief! 
 See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, 
 With languished head unpropt, 
 As one past hope, abandoned, 120 
 
 And by himself given over; 
 In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds 
 O'er-worn and soiled. 
 
 Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he, 
 That heroic, that renowned, 125 
 
 Irresistible Samson? w T hom, unarmed, 
 No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast, could 
 
 withstand ; 
 Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid; 
 Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, 
 And, weaponless himself, 130 
 
 Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery 
 Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, 
 Chalybean tempered steel, and frock of mail 
 Adamantean proof: 
 
 But safest he who stood aloof, 13S 
 
 When insupportably his foot advanced, 
 In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, 
 
120 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Spurned them to death by troops. The bold 
 Ascalonite 
 
 Fled from his lion ramp; old warriors turned 
 
 Their plated backs under his heel, 140 
 
 Or grovelling soiled their crested helmets in the 
 dust. 
 
 Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, 
 
 The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, 
 
 A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, 
 
 In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day: 145 
 
 Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders 
 bore, 
 
 The gates of Azza, post and massy bar, 
 
 Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, 
 
 No journey of a Sabbath-day, and loaded so; 
 
 Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heaven. 
 
 Which shall I first bewail, 151 
 
 Thy bondage or lost sight, 
 
 Prison within prison 
 
 Inseparably dark? 
 
 Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!) i55 
 
 The dungeon of thyself; thy soul 
 
 (Which men enjoying sight oft without cause com- 
 plain) 
 
 Imprisoned now indeed, 
 
 In real darkness of the body dwells, 
 
 Shut up from outward light 160 
 
 To incorporate with gloomy night; 
 
 For inward light, alas! 
 
 Puts forth no visual beam. 
 
 O mirror of our fickle state, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 12 1 
 
 Since man on earth unparalleled! 165 
 
 The rarer thy example stands, 
 
 By how much from the top of wondrous glory, 
 
 Strongest of mortal men, 
 
 To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen. 
 
 For him I reckon not in high estate 170 
 
 Whom long descent of birth, 
 
 Or the sphere of fortune, raises; 
 
 But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her 
 
 mate, 
 Might have subdued the earth, 
 Universally crowned with highest praises. 175 
 
 Samson. I hear the sound of words; their sense 
 
 the air 
 Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. 
 
 Chorus. He speaks; let us draw nigh. Matchless 
 
 in might, 
 The glory late of Israel, now the grief ! 
 We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown, 
 From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale, 181 
 
 To visit or bewail thee; or, if better, 
 Counsel or consolation we may bring, 
 Salve to thy sores ; apt words have power to 
 
 swage 
 The tumours of a troubled mind, 185 
 
 And are as balm to festered wounds. 
 
 Samson. Your coming, friends, revives me; for I 
 
 learn 
 Now of my own experience, not by talk, 
 How counterfeit a coin they are who ' friends ' 
 Bear in their superscription (of the most 190 
 
122 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 I would be understood): in prosperous days 
 They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head, 
 Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends, 
 How many evils have enclosed me round; 194 
 
 Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me, 
 Blindness; for had I sight, confused with shame, 
 How could I once look up, or heave the head? 
 Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwracked 
 My vessel trusted to me from above, 
 Gloriously rigged; and for a word, a tear, 200 
 
 Fool! have divulged the secret gift of God 
 To a deceitful woman: tell me, friends, 
 Am I not sung and proverbed for a fool 
 In every street? do they not say, How well 
 Are come upon him his deserts? Yet why? 205 
 Immeasurable strength they might behold 
 In me; of wisdom nothing more than mean: 
 This with the other should at least have paired; 
 These two, proportioned ill, drove me transverse. 
 
 Chorus. Tax not divine disposal; wisest men 210 
 Have erred, and by bad women been deceived; 
 And shall again, pretend they ne'er so wise. 
 Deject not then so overmuch thyself, 
 Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides. 
 Yet truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder 215 
 Why thou should'st wed Philistian women rather 
 Than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair, 
 At least of thy own nation, and as noble. 
 
 Samson. The first I saw at Timna, and she 
 pleased 
 Me; not my parents, that I sought to wed 220 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1 23 
 
 The daughter of an infidel : they knew not 
 That what I motioned was of God; I knew 
 From intimate impulse, and therefore urged 
 The marriage on, that by occasion hence 
 I might begin Israel's deliverance, 225 
 
 The work to which I was divinely called. 
 She proving false, the next I took to wife 
 (O that I never had! fond wish too late!) 
 Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila, 
 That specious monster, my accomplished snare. 
 I thought it lawful from my former act, 231 
 
 And the same end; still watching to oppress 
 Israel's oppressors. Of what now I suffer 
 She was not the prime cause, but I myself, 
 Who, vanquished with a peal of words (O weak- 
 ness!), 235 
 Gave up my fort of silence to a woman. 
 
 Chorus. In seeking just occasion to provoke 
 The Philistine, thy country's enemy, 
 Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness ; 
 Yet Israel still serves with all his sons. 240 
 
 Samson. That fault I take not on me, but transfer 
 On Israel's governors and heads of tribes, 
 Who, seeing those great acts which God had done 
 Singly by me against their conquerors, 
 Acknowledged not, or not at all considered, 245 
 Deliverance offered : I, on the other side, 
 Used no ambition to commend my deeds; 
 The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the 
 
 doer. 
 But they persisted deaf, and would not seem 249 
 
1 24 MIL TOM y $ DRA MA TIC POEMS. 
 
 To count them things worth notice, till at length 
 
 Their lords, the Philistines, with gathered powers, 
 
 Entered Judea, seeking me, who then 
 
 Safe to the rock of Etham was retired; 
 
 Not flying, but forecasting in what place 
 
 To set upon them, what advantaged best. 255 
 
 Meanwhile the men of Judah, to prevent 
 
 The harass of their land, beset me round; 
 
 I willingly on some conditions came 
 
 Into their hands, and they as gladly yield me 
 
 To the uncircumcised a welcome prey, 260 
 
 Bound with two cords; but cords to me were 
 
 threads 
 Touched with the flame : on their whole host I flew 
 Unarmed, and with a trivial weapon felled 
 Their choicest youth; they only lived who fled. 
 Had Judah that day joined, or one whole tribe, 265 
 They had by this possessed the towers of Gath, 
 And lorded over them whom now they serve. 
 But what more oft, in nations grown corrupt, 
 And by their vices brought to servitude, 
 Than to love bondage more than liberty, 270 
 
 Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty; 
 And to despise, or envy, or suspect 
 Whom God hath of his special favour raised 
 As their deliverer? if he aught begin, . 
 How frequent to desert him, and at last 275 
 
 To heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds ! 
 
 Chorus. Thy words to my remembrance bring 
 How Succoth and the fort of Penuel 
 Their great deliverer contemned, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1^5 
 
 The matchless Gideon, in pursuit 280 
 
 Of Madian, and her vanquished kings; 
 
 And how ingrateful Ephraim 
 
 Had dealt with Jephtha, who by argument, 
 
 Not worse than by his shield and spear, 
 
 Defended Israel from the Ammonite, 285 
 
 Had not his prowess quelled their pride 
 
 In that sore battle when so many died 
 
 Without reprieve, adjudged to death 
 
 For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth. 
 
 Samson. Of such examples add me to the roll. 
 Me easily indeed mine may neglect, 291 
 
 But God's proposed deliverance not so. 
 
 Chorus. Just are the ways of God, 
 And justifiable to men; 
 
 Unless there be who think not God at all : 295 
 
 If any be, they walk obscure ; 
 For of such doctrine never was there school, 
 But the heart of the fool, 
 And no man therein doctor but himself. 
 
 Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just, 
 As to his own edicts found contradicting; 301 
 
 Then give the reins to wandering thought, 
 Regardless of his glory's diminution; 
 Till by their own perplexities involved, 
 They ravel more, still less resolved, 305 
 
 But never find self-satisfying solution. 
 
 As if they would confine the Interminable, 
 And tie him to his own prescript, 
 Who made our laws to bind us, not himself, 
 And hath full right to exempt 310 
 
126 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Whom so it pleases him by choice 
 
 From national obstriction, without taint 
 
 Of sin, or legal debt; 
 
 For with his own laws he can best dispense. 
 
 He would not else, who never wanted means, 3LS 
 Nor in respect of the enemy just cause, 
 To set his people free, 
 Have prompted this heroic Nazarite, 
 Against his vow of strictest purity, 
 To seek in marriage that fallacious bride, 320 
 
 Unclean, unchaste. 
 
 Down, Reason, then; at least, vain reasonings 
 down ; 
 Though Reason here aver 
 That moral verdict quits her of unclean: 
 Unchaste was subsequent; her stain, not his. 325 
 
 But see, here comes thy reverend sire, 
 With careful step, locks white as down, 
 Old Manoa: advise 
 Forthwith how thou ought'st to receive him. 
 
 Samson. Ay me! another inward grief, awaked 
 With mention of that name, renews the assault. 33i 
 
 Manoa. Brethren and men of Dan, for such ye 
 seem 
 Though in this uncouth place; if old respect, 
 As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, 
 My son, now captive, hither hath informed 335 
 
 Your younger feet, while mine, cast back with age, 
 Came lagging after, say if he be here. 
 
 Chorus. As signal now in low dejected state 
 As erst in highest, behold him where he lies. 
 
 . 
 
SAMSON AG0N1STES. 1^7 
 
 Manoa. O miserable change! Is this the man, 
 That invincible Samson, far renowned, 341 
 
 The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength 
 Equivalent to angels' walked their streets, 
 None offering fight; who, single combatant, 
 Duelled their armies ranked in proud array, 345 
 Himself an army, now unequal match 
 To save himself against a coward armed 
 At one spear's length? O ever-failing trust 
 In mortal strength! and oh, what not in man 
 Deceivable and vain! Nay, what thing good 350 
 Prayed for, but often proves our woe, our bane? 
 I prayed for children, and thought barrenness 
 In wedlock a reproach ; I gained a son, 
 And such a son as all men hailed me happy: 
 Who would be now a father in my stead? 355 
 
 Oh, wherefore did God grant me my request, 
 And as a blessing with such pomp adorned? 
 Why are his gifts desirable, to tempt 
 Our earnest prayers, — then, given with solemn 
 
 hand 
 As graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind? 360 
 
 For this did the angel twice descend? for this 
 Ordained thy nurture holy, as of a plant 
 Select and sacred? glorious for a while, 
 The miracle of men; then in an hour 
 Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound, 365 
 
 Thy foes' derision, captive, poor, and blind, 
 Into a dungeon thrust, to work with slaves! 
 Alas, methinks whom God hath chosen once 
 To worthiest deeds, if he' through frailty err, 
 
1 2 8 MIL TON'S DRA MA TIC POEMS. 
 
 He should not so o'erwhelm, and as a thrall 370 
 
 Subject him to so foul indignities, 
 
 Be it but for honour's sake of former deeds. 
 
 Samson. Appoint not heavenly disposition, father. 
 Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me 
 But justly; I myself have brought them on, 375 
 
 Sole author I, sole cause: if aught seem vile, 
 As vile hath been my folly, who have profaned 
 The mystery of God, given me under pledge 
 Of vow, and have betrayed it to a woman, 
 A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. 380 
 
 This well I knew, nor was at all surprised, 
 But warned by oft experience. Did not she 
 Of Timna first betray me, and reveal 
 The secret wrested from me in her highth 
 Of nuptial love professed, carrying it straight 385 
 To them who had corrupted her, my spies 
 And rivals? In this other was there found 
 More faith, who also in her prime of love, 
 Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold, 
 Though offered only, by the scent conceived 390 
 Her spurious first-born, Treason against me? 
 Thrice she assayed with flattering prayers and 
 
 sighs 
 And amorous reproaches, to win from me 
 My capital secret, in what part my strength 
 Lay stored, in what part summed, that she might 
 
 know; 395 
 
 Thrice I deluded her, and turned to sport 
 Her importunity, each time perceiving 
 How openly, and with what impudence 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 129 
 
 She purposed to betray me, and (which was worse 
 
 Than undissembled hate) with what contempt 400 
 
 She sought to make me traitor to myself. 
 
 Yet, the fourth time, when mustering all her wiles, 
 
 With blandished parleys, feminine assaults, 
 
 Tongue-batteries, she surceased not day nor night 
 
 To storm me, over-watched and wearied out, 405 
 
 At times when men seek most repose and rest, 
 
 I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart, 
 
 Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved, 
 
 Might easily have shook off all her snares ; 
 
 But foul effeminacy held me yoked 410 
 
 Her bond-slave. O indignity, O blot 
 
 To honour and religion! servile mind 
 
 Rewarded well with servile punishment! 
 
 The base degree to which I now am fallen, 
 
 These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base 415 
 
 As was my former servitude, ignoble, 
 
 Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, 
 
 True slavery; and that blindness worse than this, 
 
 That saw not how degenerately I served. 
 
 Manoa. I cannot praise thy marriage-choices, 
 son ; 420 
 
 Rather approved them not ; but thou didst plead 
 Divine impulsion prompting how thou might'st 
 Find some occasion to infest our foes. 
 I state not that; this I am sure: our foes 
 Found soon occasion thereby to make thee 425 
 
 Their captive, and their triumph ; thou the sooner 
 Temptation found'st, or over-potent charms, 
 To violate the sacred trust of silence 
 
13° MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Deposited within thee; which to have kept 
 
 Tacit was in thy power: true; and thou bear'st 430 
 
 Enough, and more, the burden of that fault; 
 
 Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying, 
 
 That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains: 
 
 This day the Philistines a popular feast 
 
 Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim 435 
 
 Great pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud, 
 
 To Dagon, as their god who hath delivered 
 
 Thee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands, 
 
 Them out of thine, who slew'st them many a 
 
 slain. 
 So Dagon shall be magnified, and God, 44° 
 
 Besides whom is no god, compared with idols, 
 Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn 
 By the idolatrous rout amidst their wine; 
 Which to have come to pass by means of thee, 
 Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, 445 
 Of all reproach the most with shame that ever 
 Could have befallen thee and thy father's house. 
 
 Samson. Father, I do acknowledge and confess 
 That I this honour, I this pomp, have brought 
 To Dagon, and advanced his praises high 45° 
 
 Among the heathen round ; to God have brought 
 Dishonour, obloquy, and oped the mouths 
 Of idolists and atheists; have brought scandal 
 To Israel, diffidence of God, and doubt 
 In feeble hearts, propense enough before 455 
 
 To waver, or fall off and join with idols: 
 Which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow, 
 The anguish of my soul, that suffers not 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 13 l 
 
 Mine eye to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest. 
 
 This only hope relieves me, that the strife 460 
 
 With me hath end; all the contest is now 
 
 Twixt God and Dagon; Dagon hath presumed, 
 
 Me overthrown, to enter lists with God, 
 
 His deity comparing and preferring 
 
 Before the God of Abraham. He, be sure, 465 
 
 Will not connive, or linger, thus provoked, 
 
 But will arise, and his great name assert. 
 
 Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive 
 
 Such a discomfit as shall quite despoil him 
 
 Of all these boasted trophies won on me, 470 
 
 And with confusion blank his worshipers. 
 
 Manoa. With cause this hope relieves thee, and 
 these words 
 I as a prophecy receive; for God, 
 Nothing more certain, will not long defer 
 To vindicate the glory of his name 475 
 
 Against all competition, nor will long 
 Endure it doubtful whether God be Lord 
 Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done? 
 Thou must not in the meanwhile, here forgot, 
 Lie in this miserable loathsome plight 480 
 
 Neglected. I already have made way 
 To some Philistian lords, with whom to treat 
 About thy ransom : well they may by this 
 Have satisfied their utmost of revenge, 
 By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflicted 
 On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. 486 
 
 Samson. Spare that proposal, father, spars the 
 trouble 
 
I3 2 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Of that solicitation; let me here, 
 
 As I deserve, pay on my punishment; 
 
 And expiate, if possible, my crime, 490 
 
 Shameful garrulity. To have revealed 
 
 Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend, 
 
 How heinous had the fact been, how deserving 
 
 Contempt and scorn of all ; to be excluded 
 
 All friendship, and avoided as a blab, 495 
 
 The mark of fool set on his front! But I 
 
 God's counsel have not kept, his holy secret 
 
 Presumptuously have published, impiously, 
 
 Weakly at least, and shamefully: a sin 
 
 That Gentiles in their parables condemn 500 
 
 To their abyss and horrid pains confined. 
 
 Manm. Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite, 
 But act not in thy own affliction, son; 
 Repent the sin; but, if the punishment 
 Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids; 505 
 
 Or the execution leave to high disposal, 
 And let another hand, not thine, exact 
 Thy penal forfeit from thyself. Perhaps 
 God will relent, and quit thee all his debt ; 
 Who evermore approves and more accepts 510 
 
 (Best pleased with humble and filial submission) 
 Him who, imploring mercy, sues for life, 
 Than who, self-rigorous, chooses death as due; 
 Which argues over-just, and self-displeased 
 For self-offence, more than for God offended. 515 
 Reject not, then, what offered means who knows 
 But God hath set before us to return thee 
 Home to thy country and his sacred house, 
 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 133 
 
 Where thou may'st bring thy offerings, to avert 
 His further ire, with prayers and vows renewed. 520 
 
 Samson. His pardon I implore; but as for 
 life, 
 To what end should I seek it? When in strength 
 All mortals I excelled, and great in hopes, 
 With youthful courage, and magnanimous thoughts 
 Of birth from Heaven foretold and high exploits, 
 Full of divine instinct, after some proof 526 
 
 Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond 
 The sons of Anak, famous now and blazed, 
 Fearless of danger, like a petty god 
 I walked about, admired of all, and dreaded 530 
 On hostile ground, none daring my affront; 
 Then, swollen with pride, into the snare I fell 
 Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains, 
 Softened with pleasure and voluptuous life, 
 At length to lay my head and hallowed pledge 535 
 Of all my strength in the lascivious lap 
 Of a deceitful concubine, who shore me 
 Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece, 
 Then turned me out ridiculous, despoiled, 
 Shaven, and disarmed among my enemies. 54° 
 
 Chorus. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks, 
 Which many a famous warrior overturns, 
 Thou could'st repress; nor did the dancing ruby, 
 Sparkling out-poured, the flavour, or the smell, 
 Or taste, that cheers the heart of gods and men, 
 Allure thee from the cool crystalline stream. 546 
 
 Samson. Wherever fountain or fresh current 
 flowed 
 
134 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Against the eastern ray, translucent, pure 
 With touch ethereal of Heaven's fiery rod, 
 I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying 550 
 
 Thirst, and refreshed; nor envied them the grape 
 Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. 
 Chorus. O madness! to think use of strongest 
 
 wines 
 And strongest drinks our chief support of health, 
 When God with these forbidden made choice to 
 
 rear 555 
 
 His mighty champion, strong above compare, 
 Whose drink was only from the liquid brook. 
 Samson. But what availed this temperance, not 
 
 complete 
 Against another object more enticing? 
 What boots it at one gate to make defence, 560 
 And at another to let in the foe, 
 Effeminately vanquished? by which means, 
 Now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonoured, 
 
 quelled, 
 To what can I be useful? wherein serve 
 My nation, and the work from Heaven imposed? 
 But to sit idle on the household hearth, 566 
 
 A burdenous drone; to visitants a gaze, 
 Or pitied object; these redundant locks, 
 Robustious to no purpose, clustering down, 
 Vain monument of strength; till length of years 570 
 And sedentary numbness craze my limbs 
 To a contemptible old age obscure. 
 Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread, 
 Till vermin, or the draff of servile food, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 135 
 
 Consume me, and oft-invocated death 575 
 
 Hasten the welcome end of all my pains. 
 
 Manoa. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with 
 that gift 
 Which was expressly given thee to annoy them? 
 Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle, 
 Inglorious, unemployed, with age outworn. 580 
 But God, who caused a fountain at thy prayer 
 From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay 
 After the brunt of battle, can as easy 
 Cause light again within thy eyes to spring, 
 Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast ; 585 
 And I persuade me so; why else this strength 
 Miraculous yet remaining in those locks? 
 His might continues in thee not for naught, 
 Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. 
 
 Samson. All otherwise to me my thoughts por- 
 tend : 590 
 That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, 
 Nor the other light of life continue long, ' 
 But yield to double darkness nigh at hand; 
 So much I feel my genial spirits droop, 
 My hopes all flat; Nature within me seems 595 
 In all her functions weary of herself; 
 My race of glory run, and race of shame, 
 And I shall shortly be with them that rest. 
 
 Manoa. Believe not these suggestions, which 
 proceed 
 From anguish of the mind, and humours black 600 
 That mingle with thy fancy. I, however, 
 Must not omit a father's timely care 
 
136 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 To prosecute the means of thy deliverance 
 By ransom or how else: meanwhile be calm, 
 And healing words from these thy friends admit. 605 
 
 Samson. Oh that torment should not be confined 
 To the body's wounds and sores, 
 With maladies innumerable 
 In heart, head, breast, and reins; 
 But must secret passage find 610 
 
 To the inmost mind, 
 There exercise all his fierce accidents, 
 And on her purest spirits prey, 
 As on entrails, joints, and limbs, 
 With answerable pains, but more intense, 615 
 
 Though void of corporal sense! 
 
 My griefs not only pain me 
 As a lingering disease, 
 But, finding no redress, ferment and rage; 
 Nor less than wounds immedicable 620 
 
 Rankle, and fester, and gangrene, 
 To black mortification. 
 Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with deadly 
 
 stings, 
 Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, 
 Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise 625 
 
 Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb 
 Or med'cinal liquor can assuage, 
 Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp. 
 Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er 
 To death's benumbing opium as my only cure: 630 
 Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, 
 And sense of Heaven's desertion. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 137 
 
 I was his nursling once and choice delight, 
 His destined from the womb, 
 Promised by heavenly message twice descending. 
 Under his special eye 636 
 
 Abstemious I grew up and thrived amain; 
 He led me on to mightiest deeds, 
 Above the nerve of mortal arm, 
 Against the uncircumcised, our enemies: 640 
 
 But now hath cast me off as never known, 
 And to those cruel enemies, 
 Whom I by his appointment had provoked, 
 Left me all helpless, with the irreparable loss 
 Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated 645 
 
 The subject of their cruelty or scorn. 
 Nor am I in the list of them that hope; 
 Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless. 
 This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, 
 No long petition: speedy death, 650 
 
 The close of all my miseries, and the balm. 
 
 Chorus. Many are the sayings of the wise, 
 In ancient and in modern books enrolled, 
 Extolling patience as the truest fortitude; 
 And to the bearing well of all calamities, 655 
 
 All chances incident to man's frail life, 
 Consolatories writ 
 With studied argument, and much persuasion 
 
 sought, 
 Lenient of grief and anxious thought. 
 But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound 660 
 Little prevails, or rather seems a tune 
 Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint, 
 
i$% MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Unless he feel within 
 
 Some source of consolation from above, 
 
 Secret refreshings that repair his strength 665 
 
 And fainting spirits uphold. 
 
 God of our fathers ! what is man, 
 That thou towards him with hand so various, 
 Or might I say contrarious, 
 
 Temper'st thy providence through his short course, 
 Not evenly, as thou rul'st 671 
 
 The angelic orders, and inferior creatures mute, 
 Irrational and brute? 
 Nor do I name of men the common rout, 
 That wandering loose about, 675 
 
 Grow up and perish as the summer fly, 
 Heads without name, no more remembered; 
 But such as thou hast solemnly elected, 
 With gifts and graces eminently adorned, 
 To some great work, thy glory, 680 
 
 And people's safety, which in part they effect: 
 Yet towards these, thus dignified, thou oft, 
 Amidst their highth of noon, 
 Changest thy countenance and thy hand, with no 
 
 regard 
 Of highest favours past 685 
 
 From thee on them, or them to thee of service. 
 
 Nor only dost degrade them, or remit 
 To life obscured, which were a fair dismission, 
 But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt them 
 
 high,— 
 Unseemly falls in human eye, 690 
 
 Too grievous for the trespass or omission; 
 
SAMSON AG0N1STES. 139 
 
 Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword 
 
 Of heathen and profane, their carcasses 
 
 To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived, 
 
 Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, 
 
 And condemnation of the ungrateful multitude. 696 
 
 If these they scape, perhaps in poverty 
 
 With sickness and disease thou bow'st them 
 
 down, 
 Painful diseases and deformed, 
 In crude old age; 700 
 
 Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering 
 The punishment of dissolute days : in fine, 
 Just or unjust alike seem miserable, 
 For oft alike both come to evil end. 
 
 So deal not with this once thy glorious cham- 
 pion, 705 
 The image of thy strength, and mighty minister. 
 What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already! 
 Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn 
 His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. 
 
 But who is this, what thing of sea or land? 710 
 Female of sex it seems, 
 That so bedecked, ornate, and gay, 
 Comes this way sailing, 
 Like a stately ship 
 
 Of Tarsus, bound for the isles 715 
 
 Of Javan or Gadire, 
 
 With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 
 Sails filled, and streamers waving, 
 Courted by all the winds that hold them play; 
 An amber scent of odorous perfume 720 
 
14° MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Her harbinger, a damsel train behind. 
 Some rich Philistian matron she may seem; 
 And now, at nearer view, no other certain 
 Than Dalila thy wife. 
 
 Samson. My wife? my traitress! let her not come 
 
 near me. 725 
 
 Chorus. Yet on she moves; now stands and eyes 
 
 thee fixed, 
 
 About to have spoke; but now, with head declined, 
 
 Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she 
 
 weeps, 
 And words addressed seem into tears dissolved, 
 Wetting the borders of her silken veil: 730 
 
 But now again she makes address to speak. 
 
 Dalila. With doubtful feet and wavering resolu- 
 tion 
 I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson; 
 Which to have merited, without excuse, 
 I cannot but acknowledge; yet if tears 735 
 
 May expiate (though the fact more evil drew 
 In the perverse event than I foresaw), 
 My penance hath not slackened, though my pardon 
 No way assured. But conjugal affection, 
 Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, 74o 
 
 Hath led me on, desirous to behold 
 Once more thy face, and know of thy estate, 
 If aught in my ability may serve 
 To lighten what thou suffer'st, and appease 
 Thy mind with what amends is in my power; 745 
 Though late, yet in some part to recompense 
 My rash but more unfortunate misdeed. 
 
SAMSON AGOXISTES. 141 
 
 Samson. Out, out, hyaena! These are thy wonted 
 arts, 
 And arts of every woman false like thee, 
 To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray; 75° 
 Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech, 
 And reconcilement move with feigned remorse, 
 Confess, and promise wonders in her change; 
 Not truly penitent, but chief to try 
 Her husband, how far urged his patience bears, 755 
 His virtue or weakness which way to assail: 
 Then, with more cautious and instructed skill 
 Again transgresses, and again submits ; 
 That wisest and best men, full oft beguiled, 
 With goodness principled not to reject 760 
 
 The penitent, but ever to forgive, 
 Are drawn to wear out miserable days, 
 Entangled with a poisonous bosom-snake, 
 If not by quick destruction soon cut off, 
 As I by thee, to ages an example. 765 
 
 Dalila. Yet hear me, Samson; not that I en- 
 deavour 
 To lessen or extenuate my offence, 
 But that, on the other side, if it be weighed 
 By itself, with aggravations not surcharged, 
 Or else with just allowance counterpoised, 770 
 
 I may, if possible, thy pardon find 
 The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. 
 First granting, as I do, it was a weakness 
 In me, but incident to all our sex, 
 Curiosity, inquisitive, importune 775 
 
 Of secrets, then with like infirmity 
 
I4 2 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 To publish them, — both common female faults : 
 
 Was it not weakness also to make known 
 
 For importunity, that is for naught, 
 
 Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety? 780 
 
 To wha,t I did thou show'st me first the way. 
 
 But I to enemies revealed, and should not! 
 
 Nor should'st thou have trusted that to woman's 
 
 frailty : 
 Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel. 
 Let weakness, then, with weakness come to parle, 
 So near related, or the same of kind; 786 
 
 Thine forgive mine ; that men may censure thine 
 The gentler, if severely thou exact not 
 More strength from me than in thyself was found. 
 And what if love, which thou interpret'st hate, 79° 
 The jealousy of love, powerful of sway 
 In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee, 
 Caused what I did? I saw thee mutable 
 Of fancy; feared lest one day thou would'st leave 
 
 me 
 As her at Timna; sought by all means, therefore, 
 How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest : 796 
 No better way I saw than by importuning 
 To learn thy secrets, get into my power 
 Thy key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say, 
 ' Why then revealed ? ' I was assured by those 800 
 Who tempted me, that nothing was designed 
 Against thee but safe custody and hold: 
 That made for me; I knew that liberty 
 Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises, 
 While I at home sat full of cares and fears, 805 
 
SAMSON AGONISTMS. M3 
 
 Wailing thy absence in my widowed bed; 
 Here I should still enjoy thee, day and night, 
 Mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines', 
 Whole to myself, unhazarded abroad, 
 Fearless at home of partners in my love. 810 
 
 These reasons in Love's law have passed for good, 
 Though fond and reasonless to some perhaps; 
 And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much 
 
 woe, 
 Yet always pity or pardon hath obtained. 
 Be not unlike all others, not austere 815 
 
 As thou art strong, inflexible as steel. 
 If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, 
 In unco'mpassionate anger do not so. 
 
 Samson. How cunningly the sorceress displays 
 Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine! 820 
 That malice, not repentance, brought thee hither 
 By this appears : I gave, thou say'st, the example, 
 I led the way; bitter reproach, but true; 
 I to myself was false ere thou to me. 
 Such pardon, therefore, as I give my folly, 825 
 Take to thy wicked deed ; which when thou seest 
 Impartial, self-severe, inexorable, 
 Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather 
 Confess it feigned. Weakness is thy excuse, 
 And I believe it ; weakness to resist 830 
 
 Philistian gold: if weakness may excuse, 
 What murtherer, what traitor, parricide, 
 Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? 
 All wickedness is weakness : that plea, therefore, 
 With God or man will gain thee no remission. 835 
 
M4 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 But love constrained thee! call it furious rage 
 
 To satisfy thy lust: love seeks to have love; 
 
 My love how could'st thou hope, who took'st the 
 
 way 
 To raise in me inexpiable hate, 
 Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betrayed? 840 
 In vain thou striv'st to cover shame with shame, 
 Or by evasions thy crime uncover'st more. 
 
 Dalila. Since thou determin'st weakness for no 
 plea 
 In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, 
 Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides, 845 
 What sieges girt me round, ere I consented; 
 Which might have awed the best-resolved of men, 
 The constantest, to have yielded without blame. 
 It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st, 
 That wrought with me: thou know'st the magis- 
 trates 850 
 And princes of my country came in person, 
 Solicited, commanded, threatened, urged, 
 Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty 
 And of religion; pressed how just it was, 
 How honourable, how glorious, to entrap 855 
 A common enemy, who had destroyed 
 Such numbers of our nation : and the priest 
 Was not behind, but ever at my ear, 
 Preaching how meritorious with the gods 
 It would be to ensnare an irreligious 860 
 Dishonourer of Dagon. What had I 
 To oppose against such powerful arguments? 
 Only my love of thee held long debate, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 145 
 
 And combated in silence all these reasons 
 With hard contest. At length, that grounded 
 maxim, 865 
 
 So rife and celebrated in the mouths 
 Of wisest men, that to the public good 
 Private respects must yield, with grave authority 
 Took full possession of me, and prevailed; 
 Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining. 870 
 Samson. I thought where all thy circling wiles 
 would end: 
 In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy! 
 But had thy love, still odiously pretended, 
 Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee 
 Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. 
 I, before all the daughters of my tribe 876 
 
 And of my nation, chose thee from among 
 My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st; 
 Too well; unbosomed all my secrets to thee, 
 Not out of levity, but overpowered 880 
 
 By thy request, who could deny thee nothing: 
 Yet now am judged an enemy. Why, then, 
 Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband, 
 Then, as since then, thy country's foe professed? 
 Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave 885 
 Parents and country; nor was I their subject, 
 Nor under their protection, but my own; 
 Thou mine, not theirs. If aught against my life 
 Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, 
 Against the law of nature, law of nations; 890 
 
 No more thy country, but an impious crew 
 Of men conspiring to uphold their state 
 
I4 6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends 
 
 For which our country is a name so dear; 
 
 Not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee; 
 
 To please thy gods thou didst it! gods unable 896 
 
 To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes 
 
 But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction 
 
 Of their own deity, gods cannot be; 
 
 Less therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared. 900 
 
 These false pretexts and varnished colours failing, 
 
 Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear! 
 
 Dalila. In argument with men a woman ever 
 Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. 
 
 Samson. For want of words, no doubt, or lack of 
 breath ! 905 
 
 Witness when I was worried with thy peals. ' 
 
 Dalila. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken 
 In what I thought would have succeeded best. 
 Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson; 
 Afford me place to show what recompense 910 
 
 Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone, 
 Misguided; only what remains past cure 
 Bear not too sensibly, nor still insist 
 To afflict thyself in vain: though sight be lost, 
 Life yet hath many solaces, enjoyed 915 
 
 Where other senses want not their delights, 
 At home, in leisure and domestic ease, 
 Exempt from many a care and chance to which 
 Eyesight exposes, daily, men abroad. 
 I to the lords will intercede, not doubting 920 
 
 Their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee 
 From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 147 
 
 With me, where my redoubled love and care, 
 With nursing diligence, to me glad office, 
 May ever tend about thee to old age, 925 
 
 With all things grateful cheered, and so supplied, 
 That what by me thou hast lost thou least shall 
 
 miss. 
 Samson. No, no ; of my condition take no care ; 
 It fits not; thou and I long since are twain; 
 Nor think me so unwary or accursed 930 
 
 To bring my feet again into the snare 
 Where once I have been caught. I know thy 
 
 trains, 
 Though dearly to my cost, thy gins, and toils; 
 Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charms, 
 No more on me have power; their force is nulled; 
 So much of adder's wisdom I have learned, 936 
 
 To fence my ear against thy sorceries. 
 If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men 
 Loved, honoured, feared me, thou alone could hate 
 
 me, 
 Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me ; 94° 
 How would'st thou use me now, blind, and thereby . 
 Deceivable, in most things as a child 
 Helpless, thence easily contemned and scorned, 
 And last neglected! How would'st thou insult, 
 When I must live uxorious to thy will 945 
 
 In perfect thraldom ! how again, betray me, 
 Bearing my words and doing to the lords 
 To gloss upon, and censuring, frown or smile! 
 This jail I count the house of liberty 
 To thine, whose doors my feet shall never enter. 95° 
 
14$ MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Dalila. Let me approach at least, and touch thy 
 hand. 
 
 Samson. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance 
 wake 
 My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint. 
 At distance I forgive thee; go with that; 
 Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works 955 
 
 It hath brought forth to make thee memorable 
 Among illustrious women, faithful wives; 
 Cherish thy hastened widowhood with the gold 
 Of matrimonial treason: so farewell. 
 
 Dalila. I see thou art implacable, more deaf 960 
 To prayers than winds and seas ; yet winds to seas 
 Are reconciled at length, and sea to shore: 
 Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, 
 Eternal tempest never to be calmed. 
 Why do I humble thus myself, and suing 965 
 
 For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate; 
 Bid go with evil omen, and the brand 
 Of infamy upon my name denounced? 
 To mix with thy concernments I desist 
 Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. 97° 
 Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed, 
 And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds; 
 On both his wings, one black, the other white, 
 Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight. 
 My name, perhaps, among the circumcised 975 
 
 In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes, 
 To all posterity may stand defamed, 
 With 'malediction mentioned, and the blot 
 Of falsehood most unconjugal traduced. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 149 
 
 But in my country, where I most desire, 980 
 
 In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath, 
 
 I shall be named among the famousest 
 
 Of women, sung at solemn festivals, 
 
 Living and dead recorded, who, to save 
 
 Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose 985 
 
 Above the faith of wedlock bands; my tomb 
 
 With odours visited and annual flowers; 
 
 Not less renowned than in Mount Ephraim 
 
 Jael, who, with inhospitable guile, 
 
 Smote Sisera sleeping, through the temples nailed. 
 
 Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy 99* 
 
 The public marks of honour and reward 
 
 Conferred upon me for the piety 
 
 Which to my country I was judged to have shown. 
 
 At this whoever envies or repines, 995 
 
 I leave him to his lot, and like my own. 
 
 Chorus. She's gone; a manifest serpent by her 
 sting 
 Discovered in the end, till now concealed. 
 
 Samson. So let her go: God sent her to debase 
 me, 
 And aggravate my folly, who committed 1000 
 
 To such a viper his most sacred trust 
 Of secrecy, my safety, and my life. 
 
 Chorus. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath 
 strange power, 
 After offence returning, to regain 
 Love once possessed, nor can be easily 1005 
 
 Repulsed, without much inward passion felt, 
 And secret sting of amorous remorse, 
 
150 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Samson. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord 
 end, 
 Not wedlock treachery, endangering life. 1009 
 
 Chorus. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, 
 Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, 
 That woman's love can win, or long inherit; 
 But what it is, hard is to say, 
 Harder to hit, 
 
 Which way soever men refer it; 1015 
 
 Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day 
 Or seven though one should musing sit. 
 
 If any of these, or all, the Timnian bride 
 Had not so soon preferred 
 
 Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compared, 1020 
 Successor in thy bed; 
 Nor both so loosely disallied 
 Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously 
 Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. 
 Is it for that such outward ornament 1025 
 
 Was lavished on their sex, that inward gifts 
 Were left for haste unfinished, judgment scant, 
 Capacity not raised to apprehend 
 Or value what is best 
 
 In choice, but of test to affect the wrong? 1030 
 
 Or was too much of self-loved mixed, 
 Of constancy no root infixed, 
 That either they love nothing, or not long? 
 
 Whatever it be, to wisest men and best 
 Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil, 1035 
 Soft, modest, meek, demure, 
 Once joined, the contrary she proves, a thorn 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. I5 1 
 
 Intestine, far within defensive arms 
 
 A cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue 
 
 Adverse and turbulent; or by her charms 1040 
 
 Draws him awry, enslaved 
 
 With dotage, and his sense depraved 
 
 To folly and shameful deeds, which ruin ends. 
 
 What pilot so expert but needs must wreck, 
 
 Embarked with such a steers-mate at the helm? 
 
 Favoured of Heaven, who finds 1046 
 
 One virtuous, rarely found, 
 That in domestic good combines! 
 Happy that house ! his way to peace is smooth : 
 But virtue which breaks through all opposition, 
 And all temptation can remove, 1051 
 
 Most shines and most is acceptable above. 
 
 Therefore God's universal law 
 Gave to the man despotic power 
 Over his female in due awe, 1055 
 
 Nor from that right to part an hour, 
 Smile she or lour: 
 So shall he least confusion draw 
 On his whole life, not swayed 
 By female usurpation, nor dismayed. 1060 
 
 But had we best retire? I see a storm. 
 
 Samson. Fair days have oft contracted wind and 
 rain. 
 
 Chorus. But this another king of tempest brings. 
 
 Samson. Be less abstruse; my riddling days are 
 past. 
 
 Chorus. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor 
 fear 1065 
 
152 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 The bait of honeyed words ; a rougher tongue 
 Draws hitherward; I know him by his stride, 
 The giant Harapha of Gath; his look 
 Haughty as is his pile high-built and proud. 
 Comes he in peace? What wind hath blown him 
 
 hither 1070 
 
 I less conjecture than when first I saw 
 The sumptuous Dalila floating this way: 
 His habit carries peace, his brow defiance. 
 
 Samson. Or peace or not, alike to me he 
 
 comes. 
 Chorus. His fraught we soon shall know; he now 
 
 arrives. 1075 
 
 Harapha. I come not, Samson, to condole thy 
 
 chance, 
 As these perhaps; yet wish it had not been, 
 Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath; 
 Men call me Harapha, of stock renowned 
 As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old 1080 
 
 That Kiriathaim held: thou know'st me now, 
 If thou at all art known. Much I have heard 
 Of thy prodigious might and feats performed, 
 Incredible to me, in this displeased, 
 That I was never present on the place 1085 
 
 Of those encounters, where we might have tried 
 Each other's force in camp or listed field; 
 And now am come to see of whom such noise 
 Hath walked about, and each limb to survey, 
 If thy appearance answer loud report. 1090 
 
 Samson. The way to know were not to see, but 
 
 taste, 
 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 153 
 
 Harapha. Dost thou already single me? I 
 thought 
 Gyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune 
 Had brought me to the field where thou art famed 
 To have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw! 
 I should have forced thee soon with other arms, 1096 
 Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown; 
 So had the glory of prowess been recovered 
 To Palestine, won by a Philistine 
 From the unforeskinned race, of whom thou bear'st 
 The highest name for valiant acts; that honour, hoi 
 Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, 
 I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. 
 
 Samson. Boast not of what thou would'st have 
 
 done, but do 1104 
 
 What then thou would'st; thou seest it in thy hand. 
 
 Harapha. To combat with a blind man I disdain, 
 And thou hast need much washing to be touched. 
 
 Samson. Such usage as your honourable lords 
 Afford me, assassinated and betrayed; 
 Who durst not with their whole united powers mo 
 In fight withstand me single and unarmed, 
 Nor in the house with chamber-ambushes 
 Close-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping, 
 Till they had hired a woman with their gold, 
 Breaking her marriage-faith, to circumvent me. 1115 
 Therefore, without feign'd shifts, let be assigned 
 Some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give 
 
 thee, 
 Or rather flight, no great advantage on me; 
 Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet 
 
154 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon, 
 Vant-brace and greaves and gauntlet; add thy 
 spear, 1121 
 
 A weaver's beam, and seven-times-folded shield: 
 I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, 
 And raise such outcries on thy clattered iron, 
 Which long shall not withhold me from thy head, 
 That in a little time, while breath remains thee, 1126 
 Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boast 
 Again in safety what thou would'st have done 
 To Samson, but shalt never see Gath more. 
 
 Harapha. Thou durst not thus disparage glori- 
 ous arms 1130 
 Which greatest heroes have in battle worn, 
 Their ornament and safety, had not spells 
 And black enchantments, some magician's art, 
 Armed thee or charmed thee strong, which thou 
 from Heaven 1134 
 Feign'dst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair, 
 Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs 
 Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back 
 Of chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines. 
 
 Samson. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts ; 
 My trust is in the living God, who gave me 1140 
 At my nativity this strength, diffused 
 No less through all my sinews, joints, and bones, 
 Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn, 
 The pledge of my unviolated vow. 
 For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy God, H45 
 
 Go to his temple, invocate his aid 
 With solemnest devotion, spread before him 
 
SAMSON AG0N1STES. 155 
 
 How highly it concerns his glory now 
 To frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, 
 Which I to be the power of Israel's God 1150 
 
 Avow, and challenge Dagon to the test, 
 Offering to combat thee, his champion bold, 
 With the utmost of his godhead seconded: 
 Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow 
 Soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine. 
 
 Harapha. Presume not on thy God, whatever 
 he be; 1156 
 
 Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off 
 Quite from his people, and delivered up 
 Into thy enemies' hand ; permitted them 
 To put out both thine eyes, and fettered send thee 
 Into the common prison, there to grind 1161 
 
 Among the slaves and asses, thy comrades, 
 As good for nothing else, no better service 
 With those thy boisterous locks ; no worthy match 
 For valour to assail, nor by the sword 1165 
 
 Of noble warrior, so to stain his honour, 
 But by the barber's razor best subdued. 
 
 Samson. All these indignities, for such they are 
 From thine, these evils I deserve and more, 
 Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me 1170 
 Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, 
 Whose ear is ever open, and his eye 
 Gracious to re-admit the suppliant; 
 In confidence whereof I once again 
 Defy thee to the trial of mortal fight, H75 
 
 By combat to decide whose god is God, 
 Thine, or whom I with Israel's sons adore. 
 
IS 6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Harapha. Fair honour that thou dost thy God, in 
 trusting 
 He will accept thee to defend his cause, 
 A murtherer, a revolter, and a robber! 1180 
 
 Samson. Tongue-doughty giant, how dost thou 
 prove me these? 
 
 Harapha, Is not thy nation subject to our lords? 
 Their magistrates confessed it when they took 
 
 thee 
 As a league-breaker, and delivered bound 
 Into our hands: for hadst thou not committed 1185 
 Notorious murder on those thirty men 
 At Ascalon, who never did thee harm ; 
 Then, like a robber, stripp'dst them of their 
 
 robes ? 
 The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league, 
 Went up with armed powers thee only seeking, 1190 
 To others did no violence nor spoil. 
 
 Samson. Among the daughters of the Philistines 
 I chose a wife, which argued me no foe, 
 And in your city held my nuptial feast; 
 But your ill-meaning politician lords, H95 
 
 Under pretence of bridal friends and guests, 
 Appointed to await me thirty spies, 
 Who, threatening cruel death, constrained the bride 
 To wring from me, and tell to them, my secret, 
 That solved the riddle which I had proposed. 1200 
 When I perceived all set on enmity, 
 As on my enemies, wherever chanced, 
 I used hostility, and took their spoil, 
 To pay my underminers in their coin. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 157 
 
 My nation was subjected to your lords! 1205 
 
 It was the force of conquest : force with force 
 
 Is well ejected when the conquered can. 
 
 But I, a private person, whom my country 
 
 As a league-breaker gave up bound, presumed 
 
 Single rebellion, and did hostile acts ! 1210 
 
 I was no private, but a person raised 
 
 With strength sufficient and command from Heaven 
 
 To free my country : if their servile minds 
 
 Me, their deliverer sent, would not receive, 
 
 But to their masters gave me up for naught, 1215 
 
 The unworthier they; whence to this day they 
 
 serve. 
 I was to do my part from Heaven assigned, 
 And had performed it if mine own offence 
 Had not disabled me, not all your force. 
 These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant, 1220 
 Though by his blindness maimed for high attempts, 
 Who now defies thee thrice to single fight, 
 As a petty enterprise of small enforce. 
 
 Harapha. With thee, a man condemned, a slave 
 enrolled, 
 Due by the law to capital punishment? 1225 
 
 To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. 
 
 Samson. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to 
 survey me, 
 To descant on my strength, and give thy verdict ? 
 Come nearer ; part not hence so slight informed ; 
 But take good heed my hand survey not thee. 1230 
 
 Harapha. O Baal-zebub ! can my ears unused 
 Hear these dishonours, and not render death? 
 
15 8 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Samson. No man withholds thee; nothing from 
 thy hand 
 Fear I incurable; bring up thy van; 
 My heels are fettered, but my fist is free. 1235 
 
 Harapha. This insolence other kind of answer 
 fits. 
 
 Samson. Go, baffled coward, lest I run upon thee, 
 Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, 
 And with one buffet lay thy structure low, 
 Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down, 1240 
 To the hazard of thy brains and shattered sides. 
 
 Harapha. By Astarath, ere long thou shalt 
 lament 
 These braveries, in irons loaden on thee. 
 
 Chorus. His giantship is gone somewhat crest- 
 fallen, 
 Stalking with less unconscionable strides, 1245* 
 And lower looks, but in a sultry chafe. 
 
 Samson. I dread him not, nor all his giant brood, 
 Though fame divulge him father of five sons, 
 All of gigantic size, Goliah chief. 
 
 Chorus. He will directly to the lords, I fear, 1250 
 And with malicious counsel stir them up 
 Some way or other yet further to afflict thee. 
 
 Samson. He must allege some cause, and offered 
 fight 
 Will not dare mention, lest a question rise. 
 Whether he durst accept the offer or not ; 1255 
 
 And that he durst not plain enough appeared. 
 Much more affliction than already felt 
 They cannot well impose, nor I sustain, 
 
SAMSON AG0N1STES. 1 59 
 
 If they intend advantage of my labours, 
 
 The work of many hands, which earns my keeping, 
 
 With no small profit daily to my owners. 1261 
 
 But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove 
 
 My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence ; 
 
 The worst that he can give, to me the best. 
 
 Yet so it may fall out, because their end 1265 
 
 Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine 
 
 Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed. 
 
 Chorus. Oh how comely it is, and how reviving 
 To the spirits of just men long oppressed, 
 When God into the hands of their deliverer 1270 
 Puts invincible might, 
 
 To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressor, 
 The brute and boisterous force of violent men, 
 Hardy and industrious to support 
 Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue 1275 
 
 The righteous, and all such as honour truth! 
 He all their ammunition 
 And feats of war defeats, 
 With plain heroic magnitude of mind 
 And celestial vigour armed; 1280 
 
 Their armouries and magazines contemns, 
 Renders them useless, while 
 With winged expedition 
 Swift as the lightning glance he executes 
 His errand on the wicked, who, surprised, 1285 
 Lose their defence, distracted and amazed. 
 
 But patience is more oft the exercise 
 Of saints, the trial of their fortitude, 
 Making them each his own deliverer, 
 
ioo MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 And victor over all 1290 
 
 That tyranny or fortune can inflict. 
 
 Either of these is in thy lot, 
 
 Samson, with might endued 
 
 Above the sons of men; but sight bereaved 
 
 May chance to number thee with those 1295 
 
 Whom patience finally must crown. 
 
 This idol's day hath been to thee no day of 
 rest, 
 Labouring thy mind 
 More than the working day thy hands. 
 And yet perhaps more trouble is behind: 1300 
 
 For I descry this way 
 Some other tending; in his hand 
 A sceptre or quaint staff he bears, 
 Comes on amain, speed in his look. 
 By his habit I discern him now 1305 
 
 A public officer, and now at hand. 
 His message will be short and voluble. 
 
 Officer. Ebrews, the prisoner Samson here I 
 seek. 
 
 Chorus. His manacles remark him; there he 
 sits. 
 
 Officer. Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me 
 say : 1310 
 
 This day to Dagon is a solemn feast, 
 With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games ; 
 Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, 
 And now some public proof thereof require 
 To honour this great feast and great assembly. 1315 
 Rise, therefore, with all speed, and come along, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 161 
 
 Where I will see thee heartened and fresh clad, 
 To appear as fits before the illustrious lords. 
 Samson. Thou know'st I am an Ebrew ; therefore 
 
 tell them 
 Our law forbids at their religious rites 1320 
 
 My presence: for that cause I cannot come. 
 
 Officer. This answer, be assured, will not content 
 
 them. 
 Samson. Have they not sword-players, and every 
 
 sort 
 Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, 1324 
 Jugglers and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics, 
 But they must pick me out, with shackles tired, 
 And over-laboured at their public mill, 
 To make them sport with blind activity? 
 Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels, 
 On my refusal, to distress me more, 1330 
 
 Or make a game of my calamities? 
 Return the way thou cam'st; I will not come. 
 Officer. Regard thyself; this will offend them 
 
 highly. 
 Samson. Myself? my conscience, and internal 
 
 peace. 
 Can they think me so broken, so debased 1335 
 
 With corporeal servitude, that my mind ever. 
 Will condescend to such absurd commands? 
 Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester, 
 And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief, 
 To show them feats, and play before their god, — 
 The worst of all indignities, yet on me 1341 
 
 Joined with extreme contempt ? I will not come. 
 
1 62 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Officer. My message was imposed on me with 
 speed, 
 Brooks no delay : is this thy resolution ? 
 
 Samson. So take it with what speed thy message 
 needs. 1345 
 
 Officer. I am sorry what this stoutness will pro- 
 duce. 
 
 Samson. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow 
 indeed. 
 
 Chorus. Consider, Samson ; matters now are 
 strained 
 Up to the highth, whether to hold or break : 
 He's gone, and who knows how he may report 1350 
 Thy words by adding fuel to the flame? 
 Expect another message, more imperious, 
 More lordly thundering than thou well wilt bear. 
 
 Samson. Shall I abuse this consecrated gift 
 Of strength, again returning with my hair 1355 
 
 After my great transgression; so requite 
 Favour renewed, and add a greater sin 
 By prostituting holy things to idols, 
 A Nazarite, in place abominable, 
 Vaunting my strength in honour to their Dagon? 
 Besides how vile, contemptible, ridiculous, 1361 
 What act more execrably unclean, profane? 
 
 Chorus. Yet with this strength thou serv'st the 
 Philistines 
 Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean. 
 
 Samson. Not in their idol-worship, but by labour 
 Honest and lawful to deserve my food 1366 
 
 Of those who have me in their civil power. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1 63 
 
 Chorus. Where the heart joins not, outward acts 
 defile not. 
 
 Samson. Where outward force constrains, the 
 sentence holds : 
 But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon, 1370 
 Not dragging? The Philistian lords command; 
 Commands are no constraints. If I obey them, 
 I do it freely, venturing to displease 
 God for the fear of man, and man prefer, 
 Set God behind: which, in his jealousy, 1375 
 
 Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness. 
 Yet that he may dispense with me, or thee, 
 Present in temples at idolatrous rites, 
 For some important cause, thou need'st not doubt. 
 
 Chorus. How thou wilt here come off surmounts 
 my reach. 1380 
 
 Samson. Be of good courage; I begin to feel 
 Some rousing motions in me, which dispose 
 To something extraordinary my thoughts. 
 I with this messenger will go along, 
 Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour 1385 
 Our Law, or stain my vow of Nazarite. 
 If there be aught of presage in the mind, 
 This day will be remarkable in my life 
 By some great act, or of my days the last. 
 
 Chorus. In time thou hast resolved; the man 
 returns. 1390 
 
 Officer. Samson, this second message from our 
 lords 
 To thee I am bid say : Art thou our slave, 
 Our captive, at the public mill our drudge, 
 
1 64 MIL TON ' S DRA MA 1 YC POEMS. 
 
 And dar'st thou, at our sending and command, 
 Dispute thy coming? come without delay; 1395 
 
 Or we shall find such engines to assail 
 And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force, 
 Though thou wert firmlier fastened than a rock. 
 
 Samson. I could be well content to try their art, 
 Which to no few of them would prove pernicious; 
 Yet knowing their advantages too many, 1401 
 
 Because they shall not trail me through their streets 
 Like a wild beast, I am content to go. 
 Masters' commands come with a power resistless 
 To such as owe them absolute subjection; 1405 
 And for a life who will not change his purpose 
 (So mutable are all the ways of men) ? 
 Yet this be sure, in nothing to comply 
 Scandalous or forbidden in our Law. 
 
 Officer. I praise thy resolution; doff these links: 
 By this compliance thou wilt win the lords 141 1 
 To favour, and perhaps to set thee free. 
 
 Samson. Brethren, farewell ; your company along 
 I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them 
 To see me girt with friends; and how the sight 
 Of me, as of a common enemy, 1416 
 
 So dreaded once, may now exasperate them, 
 I know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine ; 
 And the well-feasted priest then soonest fired 
 With zeal, if aught religion seemed concerned; 
 No less the people, on their holy-days, 1421 
 
 Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable. 
 Happen what may, of me expect to hear 
 Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 165 
 
 Our God, our Law, my nation, or myself; 1425 
 
 The last of me or no I cannot warrant. 
 
 Chorus. Go, and the Holy One 
 Of Israel be thy guide 
 To what may serve his glory best, and spread his 
 
 name 
 Great among the heathen round; 1430 
 
 Send thee the angel of thy birth, to stand 
 Fast by thy side, who from thy father's field 
 Rode up in flames after his message told 
 Of thy conception, and be now a shield 
 Of fire ; that Spirit that first rushed on thee 1435 
 In the camp of Dan, 
 Be efficacious in thee now at need ! 
 For never was from Heaven imparted 
 Measure of strength so great to mortal seed, 
 As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen. 1440 
 But wherefore comes old Manoa in such haste 
 With youthful steps? Much livelier than erewhile 
 He seems : supposing here to find his son, 
 Or of him bringing to us some glad news? 
 
 Manoa. Peace with you, brethren: my induce- 
 ment hither 1445 
 Was not at present here to find my son, 
 By order of the lords new parted hence 
 To come and play before them at their feast. 
 I heard all as I came; the city rings, 
 And numbers thither flock: I had no will, 1450 
 Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly. 
 But that which moved my coming now was 
 chiefly 
 
1 66 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 To give ye part with me what hope I have 
 With good success to work his liberty. 
 
 Chorus. That hope would much rejoice us to 
 partake 1455 
 
 With thee: say, reverend sire; we thirst to hear. 
 
 Manoa. I have attempted, one by one, the lords, 
 Either at home, or through the high street passing, 
 With supplication prone and father's tears, 1459 
 To accept of ransom for my son, their prisoner. 
 Some much averse I found, and wondrous harsh, 
 Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite; 
 That part most reverenced Dagon and his priests: 
 Others more moderate seeming, but their aim 
 Private reward, for which both God and State 1465 
 They easily would set to sale : a third 
 More generous far and civil, who confessed 
 They had enough revenged, having reduced 
 Their foe to misery beneath their fears ; 
 The rest was magnanimity to remit, 1470 
 
 If some convenient ransom were proposed. 
 What noise or shout was that? it tore the sky. 
 
 Chorus. Doubtless the people shouting to behold 
 Their once great dread, captive and blind before 
 them. 1474 
 
 Or at some proof of strength before them shown. 
 
 Manoa. His ransom, if my whole inheritance 
 May compass it, shall willingly be paid 
 And numbered down : much rather I shall choose 
 To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest, 
 And he in that calamitous prison left. 1480 
 
 No, I am fixed not to part hence without him. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1 67 
 
 For his redemption all my patrimony, 
 If need be, I am ready to forego 
 And quit: not wanting him, I shall want nothing. 
 Chorus. Fathers are wont to lay up for their 
 
 sons ; 1485 
 
 Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all : 
 Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age ; 
 Thou in old age car'st how to nurse thy son, 
 Made older than thy age through eye-sight lost. 
 
 Manoa. It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, 
 And view him sitting in the house, ennobled 1491 
 With all those high exploits by him achieved, 
 And on his shoulders waving down those locks 
 That of a nation armed the strength contained : 
 And I persuade me God had not permitted 1495 
 His strength again to grow up with his hair 
 Garrisoned round about him like a camp 
 Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose 
 To use him further yet in some great service; 
 Not to sit idle with so great a gift 1500 
 
 Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him. 
 And since his strength with eye-sight was not 
 
 lost, 
 God will restore him eye-sight to his strength. 
 Chorus. Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem 
 
 vain, 
 Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon 1505 
 
 Conceived, agreeable to a father's love; 
 In both which we, as next, participate. 
 
 Manoa. I know your friendly minds, and — O 
 
 what noise! 
 
168 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Mercy of Heaven! what hideous noise was that? 
 Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. 1510 
 
 Chorus. Noise call you it, or universal groan, 
 As if the whole inhabitation perished! 
 Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that 
 
 noise, 
 Ruin, destruction at the utmost point. 
 
 Manoa. Of ruin indeed methought I heard the 
 noise. 1515 
 
 Oh ! it continues ; they have slain my son. 
 
 Chorus. Thy son is rather slaying them: that 
 outcry 
 From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. 
 
 Manoa. Some dismal accident it needs must be. 
 What shall we do; stay here, or run and see? 1520 
 
 Chorus. Best keep together here, lest, running 
 thither, 
 We unawares run into danger's mouth. 
 This evil on the Philistines is fallen : 
 From whom could else a general cry be heard? 
 The sufferers, then, will scarce molest us here ; 1525 
 From other hands we need not much to fear. 
 What if his eye-sight (for to Israel's God 
 Nothing is hard) by miracle restored, 
 He now be dealing dole among his foes, 
 And over heaps of slaughtered walk his way ? 1530 
 
 Manoa. That were a joy presumptuous to be 
 thought. 
 
 Chorus. Yet God hath wrought things as in- 
 credible 
 For his people of old; what hinders now? 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 169 
 
 Manoa. He can, I know, but doubt to think he 
 will; 
 Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts be- 
 lief. 1535 
 A little stay will bring some notice hither. 
 
 Chorus. Of good or bad so great, of bad the 
 sooner, 
 For evil news rides post, while good news baits. 
 And to our wish I see one hither speeding, 
 An Ebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe. 1540 
 
 Messenger. Oh, whither shall I run, or which 
 way fly 
 The sight of this so horrid spectacle, 
 Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold? 
 For dire imagination still pursues me. 
 But providence or instinct of nature seems, 1545 
 Or reason, though disturbed and scarce con- 
 sulted, 
 To have guided me aright, I know not how, 
 To thee first, reverend Manoa, and to these 
 My countrymen, whom here I knew remaining, 
 As at some distance from the place of horror, 1550 
 So in the sad event too much concerned. 
 
 Manoa. The accident was loud, and here before 
 thee 
 With rueful cry ; yet what it was we hear not : 
 No preface needs ; thou seest we long to know. 
 Messenger. It would burst forth, but I recover 
 breath, 1555 
 
 And sense distract, to know well what I utter. 
 Manoa. Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer. 
 
17° MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Messenger. Gaza yet stands, but all her sons are 
 fallen, 
 All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen. 
 
 Manoa. Sad! but thou know'st to Israelites not 
 saddest 1560 
 
 The desolation of a hostile city. 
 
 Messenger. Feed on that first ; there may in grief 
 be surfeit. 
 
 Manoa. Relate by whom. 
 
 Messenger. By Samson. 
 
 Manoa. That still lessens 
 
 The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. 
 
 Messenger. Ah! Manoa, I refrain too suddenly 
 To utter what will come at last too soon ; 1566 
 
 Lest evil tidings, with too rude irruption 
 Hitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep. 
 
 Manoa. Suspense in news is torture; speak them 
 out. 
 
 Messenger. Then take the worst in brief: Sam- 
 son is dead. 1570 
 
 Manoa. The worst indeed ! O, all my hope's de- 
 feated 
 To free him hence ! but death, who sets all free, 
 Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge. 
 What windy joy this day had I conceived, 
 Hopeful of his delivery, which now proves 1575 
 Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring 
 Nipt with the lagging rear of winter's frost! 
 Yet ere I give the reins to grief, say first 
 How died he? death to life is crown or shame. 
 All by him fell, thou say'st; by whom fell he? 1580 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 1 7* 
 
 What glorious hand gave Samson his death's 
 wound ? 
 
 Messenger. Unwounded of his enemies he fell. 
 
 Manoa. Wearied with slaughter then, or how? 
 explain. 
 
 Messenger. By his own hands. 
 
 Manoa. Self-violence? what cause 
 
 Brought him so soon at variance with himself 1585 
 Among his foes? 
 
 Messenger. Inevitable cause, 
 
 At once both to destroy and be destroyed: 
 The edifice, where all were met to see him, 
 Upon their heads and on his own he pulled. 
 
 Manoa. O lastly over-strong against thyself! 
 A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge. 1591 
 More than enough we know ; but while things yet 
 Are in confusion, give us, if thou canst, 
 Eye-witness of what first or last was done, 
 Relation more particular and distinct. 1595 
 
 Messenger. Occasions drew me early to this city ; 
 And as the gates I entered with sun-rise, 
 The morning trumpets festival proclaimed 
 Through each high street. Little I had dispatched, 
 When all abroad was rumoured that this day 1600 
 Samson should be brought forth, to show the people 
 Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games; 
 I sorrowed at his captive state, but minded 
 Not to be absent at that spectacle. 
 The building was a spacious theatre, 1605 
 
 Half-round, on two main pillars vaulted high, 
 With seats where all the lords, and each degree 
 
1 72 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 Of sort, might sit in order to behold ; 
 
 The other side was open, where the throng 
 
 On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand : 
 
 I among these aloof obscurely stood. 1611 
 
 The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice 
 
 Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and 
 
 wine, 
 When to their sports they turned. Immediately 
 Was Samson as a public servant brought, 1615 
 In their state livery clad : before him pipes 
 And timbrels ; on each side went armed guards ; 
 Both horse and foot before him and behind, 
 Archers, and slingers, cataphracts, and spears. 
 At sight of him the people with a shout 1620 
 
 Rifted the air, clamouring their god with praise, 
 Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. 
 He patient, but undaunted, where they led him, 
 Came to the place ; and what was set before him, 
 Which without help of eye might be assayed, 1625 
 To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed 
 All with incredible, stupendious force, 
 None daring to appear antagonist. 
 At length, for intermission sake, they led him 
 Between the pillars ; he his guide requested 1630 
 (For so from such as nearer stood we heard), 
 As over-tired, to let him lean a while 
 With both his arms on those two massy pillars, 
 That to the arched roof gave main support. 
 He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson 
 Felt in his arms, with head a while inclined, 1636 
 And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed, 
 
SAMSON AGONISl^ES. 1^3 
 
 Or some great matter in his mind revolved. 
 
 At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud : 
 
 ' Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed 
 
 I have performed, as reason was, obeying, 1641 
 
 Not without wonder or delight beheld: 
 
 Now, of my own accord, such other trial 
 
 I mean to show you of my strength yet greater, 
 
 As with amaze shall strike all who behold/ 1645 
 
 This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed; 
 
 As with the force of winds and waters pent, 
 
 When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars 
 
 With horrible convulsion to and fro 1649 
 
 He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew 
 
 The whole roof after them with burst of thunder 
 
 Upon the heads of all who sat beneath, 
 
 Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests, 
 
 Their choice nobility and flower, not only 
 
 Of this, but each Philistian city round, 1655 
 
 Met from all parts to solemnize this feast. 
 
 Samson, with these immixed, inevitably 
 
 Pulled down the same destruction on himself; 
 
 The vulgar only scaped, who stood without. 
 
 Chorus. O dearly bought revenge, yet glorious ! 
 Living or dying thou hast fulfilled 1661 
 
 The work for which thou wast foretold 
 To Israel, and now liest victorious 
 Among thy slain self-killed; 
 
 Not willingly, but tangled in the fold 1665 
 
 Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoined 
 Thee with thy slaughtered foes, in number more 
 Than all thy life had slain before. 
 
174 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 i Semichorus. While their hearts were jocund 
 and sublime, 
 Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wine, 1670 
 
 And fat regorged of bulls and goats, 
 Chaunting their idol, and preferring 
 Before our living Dread, who dwells 
 In Silo, his bright sanctuary ; 
 
 Among them he a spirit of phrenzy sent, 1675 
 
 Who hurt their minds, 
 And urged them on with mad desire 
 To call in haste for their destroyer : 
 They, only set on sport and play, 
 Unweetingly importuned 1680 
 
 Their own destruction to come speedy upon them. 
 So fond are mortal men, 
 Fallen into wrath divine, 
 As their own ruin on themselves to invite, 
 Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, 1685 
 
 And with blindness internal struck. 
 
 2 Semichorus. But he, though blind of sight, 
 Despised, and thought extinguished quite, 
 With inward eyes illuminated, 
 
 His fiery virtue roused 1690 
 
 From under ashes into sudden flame, 
 And, as an evening dragon, came, 
 Assailant on the perched roosts 
 And nests in order ranged 
 
 Of tame villatic fowl ; but, as an eagle, 1695 
 
 His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads. 
 So Virtue, given for lost, 
 Depressed and overthrown, as seemed, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 175 
 
 Like that self-begotten bird 
 
 In the Arabian woods embost, 1700 
 
 That no second knows nor third, 
 
 And lay erewhile a holocaust, 
 
 From out her ashy womb now teemed, 
 
 Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most 
 
 When most unactive deemed ; 1705 
 
 And though her body die, her fame survives, 
 
 A secular bird, ages of lives. 
 
 Manoa. Come, come; no time for lamentation 
 now, 
 Nor much more cause : Samson hath quit himself 
 Like Samson, and heroicly hath finished 1710 
 
 A life heroic, on his enemies 
 
 Fully revenged; hath left them years of mourning, 
 And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor 
 Through all Philistian bounds; to Israel 
 Honour hath left and freedom, let but them 1715 
 Find courage to lay hold on this occasion ; 
 To himself and father's house eternal fame; 
 And, which is best and happiest yet, all this 
 With God not parted from him, as was feared, 
 But favouring and assisting to the end. 1720 
 
 Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
 Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt, 
 Dispraise, or blame ; nothing but well and fair, 
 And what may quiet us in a death so noble. 
 Let us go find the body where it lies 1725 
 
 Soaked in his enemies' blood, and from the stream 
 With lavers pure, and cleansing herbs wash off 
 The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while 
 
I7 6 MILTON'S DRAMATIC POEMS. 
 
 (Gaza is not in plight to say us nay), 
 
 Will send for all my kindred, all my friends, 1730 
 
 To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend, 
 
 With silent obsequy and funeral train, 
 
 Home to his father's house. There will I build 
 
 him 
 A monument, and plant it round with shade 
 Of laurel ever green, and branching palm, 1735 
 
 With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled 
 In copious legend, or sweet lyric song. 
 Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, 
 And from his memory inflame their breasts 
 To matchless valour and adventures high; 1740 
 The virgins also shall, on feastful days, 
 Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing 
 His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, 
 From whence captivity and loss of eyes. 
 
 Chorus. All is best, though we oft doubt 1745 
 What the unsearchable dispose 
 Of highest Wisdom brings about, 
 And ever best found in the close. 
 Oft he seems to hide his face, 
 But unexpectedly returns; 1750 
 
 And to his faithful champion hath in place 
 Bore witness gloriously ; whence Gaza mourns, 
 And all that band them to resist 
 His uncontrollable intent. 
 
 His servants he, with new acquist J 755 
 
 Of true experience from this great event, 
 With peace and consolation hath dismissed, 
 And calm of mind, all passion spent. 
 
NOTES 
 
 PSALM CXIV. 1624. 
 
 This and the following paraphrase are interesting 
 chiefly because they are the work of the boy Milton. 
 They show the good workmanship of the young versi- 
 fier, — good rhetoric rather than good poetry; his natural 
 leaning toward scriptural subjects ; and something of 
 his tastes in reading. The influence of Sylvester, the 
 translator of Du Bartas, seems to have been noticed by 
 all the commentators since Mr. Charles Dunster called 
 attention to it in 1800. (Considerations on Milton's 
 Early Reading. Referred to by Todd, 1801 ; Masson, 
 1890.) Du Bartas (1544-1590) was a French poet, whose 
 Semaine ou Creation du Monde was extremely popu- 
 lar. It was translated into English, under the title of 
 Divine Weekes and Workes, by Josuah Sylvester (1563- 
 161 8). Milton must have come in contact with this trans- 
 lation, and was doubtless influenced by it. Here is the 
 beginning of the poem, which dealt with the scriptural 
 account of the creation: — 
 
 ' Thou glorious Guide of Heav'ns star-gli string motion, 
 Thou, thou (true Neptune) Tamer of the Ocean^ 
 Thou Earth's dread Shaker (at whose only Word, 
 Th' Eolian Scouts are quickly still'd and stirr'd) 
 Lift up my Soule, my drowsie Spirits refine: 
 With learned Art enrich this Work of mine. 
 O Father, grant I sweetly warble forth 
 Unto our seed the World's renowned Birth: 
 Grant (gratious God) that I record in Verse 
 The rarest Beauties of this Universe: 
 
 177 
 
178 NOTES. 
 
 And grant, therein Thy power I may discern; 
 That, teaching others, I my selfe may learne.' 
 
 —Quoted from Edition 0/1641. 
 
 Spenser's influence over Milton at this time has been 
 mentioned by commentators, who have not, however, 
 given very convincing evidence from these paraphrases. 
 The influence of Sylvester seems paramount. 
 
 1. Terah's. Gen. xi. 24-32. 
 
 3. Pharian. Egyptian. Derivation not certain: there is 
 an island in the Bay of Alexandria called Pharos. 
 
 6. A not infrequent construction: plural subject and 
 singular verb. But the two subjects may be thought of as 
 one thing (in our immediate time Kipling writes, ' The 
 tumult and the shouting dies' — Recessional). In some 
 dialects the s (our sign of the singular) was a plural end- 
 ing. The student must be careful not to regard as ' bad 
 grammar* constructions with which he is not familiar. 
 Good grammar is merely good custom recorded; and good 
 customs may change. Cf. Lycidas 7, note, p. 252. 
 
 7. That. Object of saw. 
 
 9. Note the change of tense. 
 
 PSALM CXXXVI. 1624. 
 
 5. blaze. Blazon. Cf. Arcades 74. 
 
 10. That. The 1673 edition here reads 4 Who,' as also 
 in 1. 13, 17, 21, 25. 'That* is the reading of 1645. 'Who* 
 is undoubtedly the better word, but as the main reason for 
 printing these paraphrases is to show the work of the 
 youthful poet, it seems best to retain the earlier reading. 
 
 46. Erythraean main. The Red Sea. ipvdpds is the Greek 
 word for ' red/ 
 
 65. Seon, Cf. Numbers xxi. 21-25. 
 
 66. Amorrean. This adjective for the coast of the Amor- 
 ites seems, as Todd suggests, to indicate that Milton had 
 Buchanan's Latin translation of the Psalms before him. 
 Buchanan uses Amorrhceum and Aniorrhceis (as well as 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT. 179 
 
 Pharius for ' Egyptian,' for which cf. 1. 3 of the preced- 
 ing paraphrase). The * coast' was the east coast of the 
 Dead Sea. 
 69. Og. Cf. Numbers xxi. 33-35. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT. 1626 (or at the 
 close of 1625). 
 
 The fair infant was the niece of Milton, the daughter 
 of his elder sister, Anne Milton [Phillips]. The child was 
 but a few months old. It was the brother of this child, 
 Edward Phillips (1630-1696?), whose memoir of his uncle 
 is so important to students of Milton. According to Mil- 
 ton's usage, 4 anno cetatis 17 ' means ' at seventeen years 
 of age/ not 'in his seventeenth year.' The expression is 
 placed above the title in the edition of 1673, not beneath 
 the title ; probably, as Masson suggests, to prevent any- 
 one from reading in one glance: ' a fair infant dying of a 
 cough anno cetatis 17 ' ! 
 
 1. Cf. Shakespeare's Passionate Pilgrim x. 
 
 2. timelessly. untimely (adv.). 
 
 5. amorous on. Shakespeare uses both ' amorous on ' 
 and 4 amorous of: 'amorous on Hero,' (Much Ado 
 II. i. 162); 'amorous of their strokes' (Antony and Cleo- 
 patra II. ii. 202). 
 
 8. Aquilo. Boreas; the north wind, 
 his. Winter's. 
 
 9 Athenian damsel. Orithyia, daughter of the Athe- 
 nian king, Erechtheus, was carried off by Boreas. 
 
 10. He. Winter. 
 touched his deity full near. Nearly impugned his 
 divinity, or came ' home ' to his godship. 
 
 12. infamous. Probably had the accent on second syl- 
 lable. Spencer {F. Q. III. vi. 13) used the same expres- 
 sion with same accent; Shakespeare accents the ante;- 
 
180 NOTES. 
 
 penult (I. Henry VI. IV. i, 30; Antony and Cleopatra 
 IV. ix. ig) in the two cases in which he uses the word. 
 
 16. middle empire. ' The middle air lay beneath the 
 aether, which Homer describes as extending over the 
 abode of the gods ' (Browne); or merely 'between heaven 
 and earth ' (Keightley). See Century Dictionary: ether. 
 Verity in a note on P. L. i. 516, refers to a mediaeval theory 
 indicating the division of the air into three regions, or 
 strata, the middle one of which was the place of clouds 
 and vapors, and was very cold. 
 
 25. Hyacinth. A beautiful youth, whom Apollo acci- 
 dentally killed at quoits. From his blood grew the 
 * purple flower ' that we call hyacinth. 
 
 Eurotas. The principal river of Sparta. 
 
 28. Note that so is here an emphatic word. 
 
 31. wormy bed. A Shakespearean expression: Mid- 
 summer Night's Dream III. ii. 384 (Warton). 
 
 32. low. In the sense of deep. 
 
 33. for pity. Could Heaven, in all pity, doom thee? 
 doom. In the earlier sense, judge. 
 
 34. In answer, not to the question of the preceding line, 
 but to the suppositions of lines 29-32. 
 
 36. resolve me. As frequently in Shakespeare, ' inform 
 me.' 
 
 4 What, master, read you? first resolve me that 7 {Taming of 
 the Shrew IV. ii. 7). 
 
 39. high first-moving sphere. The ftrimum mobile, for 
 which, consult the dictionary; also the note on Vac. Ex. 
 34, P- 183. 
 
 44. Shaked, Also used by Shakespeare, e. g., Cym- 
 beline I. v. 76. 
 
 47. Earth's sons. The Titans. It was another race, 
 the Giants, that besieged Olympus; but it is not necessary, 
 as some commentators have done (Browne, Rolfe), to 
 
AT A VACATION EXERCISE. 181 
 
 charge Milton with an error in scholarship; the poet 
 merely asks, Did the Titans, of late, besiege ? etc. 
 
 48. sheeny, bright and shining. 
 
 thou some goddess fled. 'Fled' may be a parti- 
 ciple, in which case supply ' wert ' after 'thou'; or it 
 may be a preterite, in which case supply 4 as ' before 
 ' some/ 
 
 50. that just maid. Astraea lived on the earth in the 
 golden age. She was the goddess of innocence, and 
 returned to heaven when the world become corrupt. 
 
 53. [Mercy,] This word was suggested by John Heskin. 
 in 1750, to fill the obvious lacuna (Warton). It has been 
 generally adopted. 
 
 55. heavenly brood. The virtues. 
 
 57. golden-winged host. The angels. 
 
 58. human weed. The garment of flesh, not the gar- 
 ments of people. 
 
 59. prefixed. That which has been fixed upon before. 
 
 60. abode. Time (not place) of abiding. 
 
 68. The plague was afflicting London at this time. 
 
 69. smart. 4 Keen pain,' as used by Shakespeare, e. g. % 
 Troilus and Cressida IV. iv. 2 # o. 
 
 AT A VACATION EXERCISE. 1628. 
 
 A good deal of explanation is needed to make this poem 
 intelligible, and it was probably not really appreciated 
 until Professor Masson made clear the character of the 
 occasion at which the poem was read. In brief, after the 
 close of the Easter term most of the students of the Uni- 
 versity met, as was customary, to hold some high festival, 
 part serious, perhaps, part prank. Milton was chosen 
 1 Father,' with duties like those of a chairman or toast- 
 master; duties that he elaborately, if not laboriously, per- 
 formed. He began with a Latin address, more than half 
 seriously justifying the occasion, on the subject: * Exer- 
 
i#2 NOTES. 
 
 citationes nonnunquam ludicras Philosophise studiis non 
 obesse ' (Exercises of a playful nature now and then are 
 not inconsistent with philosophical study — a stately way 
 of saying that all study and no play makes Jack a dull 
 boy). When he had established this thesis to his satisfac- 
 tion, he went on (still in Latin) to make practical applica- 
 tion of his theory by good-humoredly cracking jokes and 
 poking fun at his fellow-students, and finally, drawing 
 near the end of his time, he announced his intention of 
 breaking the rules in order to speak in English (for Latin 
 was the language required in public university speaking). 
 The English speech follows, part verse (the poem before 
 us) and part prose (now lost). It was, it seems, customary 
 for the * Father' to bestow burlesque names upon some 
 of his fellow-students, — his ' sons,' — and Milton, instead 
 of naming the ' sons ' after articles of food or the like, 
 names them after the Predicaments. But before he does 
 this he sings in praise of the language he is using, and 
 then at last, after, say, an hour and a half (Masson's esti- 
 mate) of speechifying, he resumes his seat, presumably, 
 although 'the rest' that is lost may have taken some 
 time more. As to the Predicaments: according to Aris- 
 totle, one cannot conceive of Being (Ens) except under 
 certain definite heads; all that may be thought or said 
 (predicated) of Being falling ultimately under one of these 
 heads or Predicaments. Thus a thing has Substance and 
 Accidents, the latter being subdivided into Quantity, 
 Quality, Relation, Action, Passion, Place, Time, Posture, 
 Habit. These nine canons, with Substance (which is not 
 divided), make up the ten Predicaments or Categories. 
 Milton, as Father, was Ens; ' Substance with his Canons' 
 were ten of the students. The address of Ens to Substance 
 is an extended play of words upon the relationship of Sub- 
 stance to the Accidents. 
 
 4. infant. Probably used with some thought of the 
 implied pun in the word: in-fans, not speaking. 
 
AT A VACATION EXERCISE. 183 
 
 8, latter task. The conclusion of his speech. 
 
 12. thither. In the Latin part of his speech. 
 
 19-20. There is no specific reason for referring this to 
 the carefully constructed, artificial sentences of Lyly's 
 Euftkues, as some commentators have done. Browne 
 with more plausibility suggests some local allusion of the 
 sort that Milton made in one of his Latin college essays. 
 Masson (Life I. 276) thus translates: . . . ' numberless 
 hundreds of those unskilled ones in whom there is no mind, 
 no right reason, no sound judgment, but only pride in a 
 certain overboiling and truly laughable foam of words; 
 from whom, if you strip the rags they have borrowed from 
 new-fangled authors, then immortal God! how much barer 
 than my nail you would behold them.' . . . 
 
 20. takes. See note on Psalm cxiv. 6, p 178. 
 fantastics. Shakespeare speaks of ' lisping affected 
 fantasticoes ' {Romeo and Juliet II. iv. 30, 1st Quarto), 
 * To be fantastic may become a youth ' ( Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona II. vii. 47). 
 
 22. spirits has a monosyllabic value here, as so fre- 
 quently at this period. Cf. sprite. 
 
 23. The whole figure of naked thoughts choosing a garb 
 of words is not to be taken very seriously as a description 
 of the poetic process. To poets as to others thoughts 
 occur garbed. But Milton is playing upon a fancy, not 
 describing psychologically his habit of utterance. 
 
 29. This is a foretaste of the sterner Milton. Doubtless 
 he would have preferred greatly the ' graver subject'; and 
 his preference was a true instinct. He shines but dimly in 
 facetious verse. Almost immediately Milton gives his 
 thought wing, and he rises to a strain that is, to say the 
 very least, remarkable in a boy of nineteen. One thinks 
 irresistibly of the Paradise Lost, that was to come more 
 than half a lifetime later. 
 
 33. Such where. Subjects wherein. 
 
 34. Milton's conception of the Universe was Ptolemaic. 
 
1 84 NOTES. 
 
 Around about the earth were spheres, one for each of the 
 seven known planets (including the sun and moon), one 
 for the fixed stars, a crystal sphere, and the firzmum 
 mobile — an enclosing sphere which moved the others. 
 
 Wheeling poles. The spheres themselves (Keightley). 
 
 Heaven's door. The opening at the top of the system 
 of spheres; through which Heaven was visible. Cf. P. 
 L. vii. 560-581; iii. 481-485, 498-509, 526-528, and 537-543. 
 
 35. Each blissful deity. The mingling of the mythology 
 of Greece with the things that were held in real belief is 
 to be found not infrequently in Milton. The mixture of 
 sacred and profane is usually in our day counted incon- 
 gruous and more or less offensive; but Milton does not 
 stand alone in peopling a Christian heaven with mytho- 
 logical deities. Cf. Lycidas 82, note, p. 256. 
 
 36. How he. How each deity. 
 
 thunderous. Thunderer's was long ago suggested. 
 There is no reason to change. 
 
 37. unshorn. Horace, and Pindar before him, called 
 Apollo * unshorn/ 
 
 40. Spheres of watchful fire. Cf. note on 1. 34. The 
 word ' watchful ' may be an allusion to the Fates in the 
 Platonic vision, who assisted the movement of the spheres 
 and watched over life. Cf. note on Arcades 63, p. 222. 
 
 42. hills of snow. Snow-white clouds, or snow-covered 
 hills. 
 
 lofts. Milton's sole use of the word. The plural per- 
 haps prevents us from taking the word in the sense of sky 
 (the earlier meaning). Cf. aloft. ' The space beneath the 
 roof ' seems to lack vividness here. 
 
 piled thunder. Thunder clouds, if the first meaning of 
 'hills of snow' is taken; or thunderbolts, as Browne 
 suggests. 
 
 43. at length. Finally. 
 
 green-eyed. Another classic epithet; with no thought 
 of jealousy (for which see Othello III. iii. 166). 
 
AT A VACATION EXERCISE. 185 
 
 46. beldam. Cf. Dictionary. 
 
 48. Demodocus. Cf. Odyssey viii. 43-45, 62-95, 254- 
 369, 471-541. The blind bard of the Phseacian king, 
 Alcinous. A strange forecast of Milton's own fate: the 
 muse 4 Took from him sight, but gave him strains 
 divine ' (Odyssey viii. 64). Demodocus sang, at Al- 
 cinous' feast, of the strife of Ulysses with Achilles, and 
 Ulysses wept as he listened. Then Demodocus sang of 
 the love of Ares and Aphrodite and the net of Hephaistos; 
 then again of the Trojan war and the fall of Troy; and 
 again Ulysses wept, but only Alcinous saw his tears. 
 
 56. To keep within the limits of the Category or Pre- 
 dicament. Milton here speaks to his Muse, as if to him- 
 self in his assumed character of Ens. 
 
 59. Son. Substance. Throughout this speech the 
 reader must keep in mind Aristotle's notion of relation of 
 Substance to the other. Predicaments (the nine Accidents). 
 Substance is Being per se; it underlies all appearances, 
 yet cannot be apprehended save through its external 
 manifestation in the Accidents. In other words, Sub- 
 stance is subject to all the other Predicaments, the Acci- 
 dents, and at the same time is the source of their very 
 existence. It is on this idea that Milton plays so dexter- 
 ously. 
 
 60. fairy ladies. Fairies. 
 
 66. invisible. Because substance cannot be seen. 
 
 71. prospective-glass. Spenser (F. Q. iii. 2, 18-20) de- 
 scribes a glass (mirror) in which the future might be seen. 
 This glass of Merlin's devising was ' round and hollow,' 
 however. In his essay, * Of Seeming Wise/ Bacon refers 
 to ' prospectives,' perhaps in the sense of 'perspective 
 glasses.' 
 
 83-88. Nothing can be antagonistic to substance itself; 
 but the properties of substance (Action and Passion or 
 Passivity, for example) may be in opposition. 
 
 90. your learned hands. The hands of his learned 
 
1 86 NOTES, 
 
 hearers (M.). Relation was called by his name. The 
 
 following passage puzzled the critics until 1859, the con " 
 nection between 4 Rivers ' and ' Relation ' being utterly un- 
 intelligible. It is rather amusing, however, to find that the 
 commentators instead of frankly giving it up, merely fol- 
 lowed Warton in saying ' It is hard to say, in what sense, 
 or in what manner, this introduction of the rivers was to 
 be applied to the subject/ Finally Mr. W. G. Clark (the 
 Shakespearean scholar) guessed that Milton meant pre- 
 cisely what he said: Relation was called by his name, 
 Rivers. The records of Christ's College show that two 
 students named Rivers were enrolled in 1628. Milton's 
 joke is on the critics, too. 
 
 92-100. ' In this passage Milton must have had in view 
 Spenser's poetical enumerations of rivers (see especially 
 F. Q. IV. xi. 20 et seq.) y but may have been indebted 
 also to Drayton's Polyolbion. " Utmost Tweed" is plain 
 [the northern boundary of England]; the Ouse and 
 the Don are- in Yorkshire; Drayton speaks of the " thirty 
 streams" of the Trent [Fr. trente\\ the Mole, in Surrey, 
 disappears in summer, for a part of its course, into a 
 subterranean channel; Severn derived its name in the 
 legends from the maiden Sabra or Sabrina drowned in it 
 [Comus 824] . . . ; there are several Avons, but the one 
 meant may be the Avon of Bristol [on account of the 
 cliffs which rise above it. — Keightley]; "sedgy Lea" is 
 near London; the Dee, near Chester, was sacred with 
 Druidical tradition [Lycidas, 55]; Humber in the legend 
 derives its name from a Hunnish invader of primeval 
 times.' — Masson. 
 
 100. royal-towered. Windsor castle, the tower o£ 
 London, and the palace of Greenwich are on the 
 banks of the Thames (K.). 
 
MORXIXG OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 187 
 
 ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 1629. 
 
 5. holy sages. The Old Testament prophets. 
 
 6. forfeit. The penalty of human sin. 
 
 10. wont. Old preterite ; we now use only the participle 
 in ' was wont.' 
 
 11. the midst. The middle one. Is Milton thinking of 
 the familiar order of the words, Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost? 
 
 23. wizards. Wise men. Matt. ii. 1-2. 
 
 24. prevent. Anticipate. Many seemingly familiar 
 words should be looked up in the dictionary; an earlier 
 meaning frequently gives the necessary interpretation. 
 Such words as ' sovran ' (1. 60), ■ vein ' (1. 15), ■ doff/ (1. 33) 
 and 'quaint' (1. 194) are examples of another class of 
 words that repay research. 
 
 27. angel quire. Luke ii. 13. 
 
 28. Cf. Isaiah vi. 6, 7 (Newton). 
 34. so. Thereby, thus. 
 
 37. Only. Almost in the sense of 'however.' Although 
 she does not wanton with the sun, yet (and this is all) she 
 woos the air with fair speeches, to hide, etc. Or, it may 
 mean. With fair speeches only, she woos, etc. 
 
 41. Pollute. Past participles without the d are not 
 uncommon in Shakespeare. ' Of nothing first create.' 
 R. and J. I. i. 1S3. We have an occasional use to-day of 
 1 situate.' 
 
 45. to cease. To make to cease, used causatively. 
 
 47. sliding. Coleridge and Tennyson, following Milton's 
 example, have also made poetical use of this seemingly 
 not very poetic word. 
 
 ' She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, 
 
 That slid into my soul.'— Ancient Mariner. 
 
 ' As down dark tides the glory slides 
 
 And star-like mingles with the stars.'— Sir Galahad. 
 
1 88 NOTES. 
 
 48. the turning sphere. All the spheres referred to in 
 note on Vac. Ex. 1. 34, p. 183. 
 
 50. turtle. Cf. note on 1. 24. 
 
 52. peace. The same stanza contains a literal and a 
 figurative use of the word. 
 
 56. hooked. The scythe-like projections on the wheels 
 are here referred to. 
 
 59. Cf. note on 1. 24. 
 
 64. whist. Shakespeare has the same rhyme and the 
 same meaning in the The Tempest I. ii. 378 (Ariel's 
 song): 
 
 4 Curtsied when you have and kissed 
 The wild waves whist.' 
 
 66. ocean. Trisyllabic. 
 
 68. birds of calm. Kingfishers (halcyons). Halcyon 
 days are the fourteen days of calm at the time of the winter 
 solstice, when the kingfishers build their nests. 
 
 71. one way. Toward the infant Deity (Keightley). 
 influence. An astrological term, referring to the 
 power of the stars over earthly things. 
 
 73. For all. We still use this idiom. 
 
 74. Lucifer. The morning star. 
 81. as. As if. 
 
 85. lawn. Cf. note on 1. 24. 
 
 86. or ere. Or and ere mean the same thing, * before/ 
 The duplicated form is idiomatic. 
 
 87. Cf. note on 1. 24. 
 
 88. than. An old form of ' then/ 
 
 89. the mighty Pan. Pan was the god of shepherds, 
 and Christ as the Good Shepherd could be thought of as 
 the mighty Pan, — mighty as opposed to powerless. Per- 
 haps the suggestion of ' all ' in the Greek word helped 
 to make the allusion weightier. Spenser used the term 
 4 great Pan * with reference to Christ (She ft. Cat. 
 July, 49). 
 
 92. silly. Look up in Dictionary. 
 
MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 189 
 
 93. when. Almost in the sense of 'then/ If taken in 
 our meaning, the conclusion of the thought (1. 99-100) 
 seems hardly adequate. But perhaps this is the conclusion 
 of the preceding stanza, which in that event should end 
 with a comma. 
 
 95. strook. Milton's usage seems divided between 
 strook and struck. 
 
 97. noise. Music; as in Sol. Mus. 18. In a fragment 
 of a liturgical play of the fifteenth century the singing of 
 angels is spoken of as a ' nobulle noyes.' Shakespeare 
 occasionally uses the word in the sense of ■ music ' (e. g. y 
 Antony and Cleopatra, IV. iii. 12), and once in the sense 
 of * a band of musicians ' (II. Henry IV. II. iv. 13). 
 In Comics 369, ' noise ' means ' sound/ 
 
 98. as . . . took. Such as to take. 
 
 102. hollow round of Cynthia's seat. The sphere in 
 which the moon was fixed. The construction here is clear 
 when looked at carefully, 
 
 104. won. Won over. 
 
 106. its. ' One of the three instances in all Milton's 
 poetry of the use of the word its' (Masson). The other 
 two places are P. L. i. 254, and iv. 813. 
 
 107. Not, * only such harmony '; but ' such harmony of 
 itself.' What difference in thought? 
 
 108. union. Trisyllabic. Similar instances will not be 
 noted again. 
 
 109. their. The shepherds'. 
 
 116. unexpressive. Inexpressible. 
 
 119-124. Cf. Job xxxviii. 4-11. 
 
 122. world, in Milton, usually means more than earth, 
 although earth would serve as synonym in 1. 54. Here it 
 probably means earth, following Job xxxviii. 4. 
 
 125. An allusion to Pythagoras' notion of the ' music of 
 the spheres'; that is, the spheres of the stellar system, 
 whose motion made a music inaudible to men. Cf. 1. 127. 
 
 126. once. For once. 
 
* 
 
 igo NOTES. 
 
 131. ninefold. There were eight spheres in Ptolemy's 
 scheme; a ninth and a tenth were added successively. 
 Here Milton seems to restrict the number to nine. Cf. 
 Vac. Ex. 35. In P. L. iii. 481-4, Milton refers to ten 
 
 spheres. 
 
 132. consort. Cf. Sol. Mus. 27. 
 
 I 35- age of gold. The fabled first age of innocence and 
 peace, which was some day to come again, bringing back 
 with it Astraea. Cf. Fair Infant, 50-53, and note on 
 50, p. i8t. 
 
 143-144. These lines read in the 1645 edition: 
 
 1 Th* enameld Arras of the Rainbow wearing, 
 And Mercy set between,' 
 
 146. tissued. Milton uses * tissue ' only once more in 
 his poetry, P. L. v. 592, referring there to the glitter- 
 ing fabric of banners. Here it may mean the thin texture 
 of the clouds, or perhaps their coloring. 
 
 155. ychained. The prefix y comes from the Anglo- 
 Saxon ge-, the prefix of the past participle. 
 
 156. deep. The depths of air (Keightley). Cf. Thessal. 
 iv. 16-17. 
 
 157. Cf. Exodus ix. 16-19. 
 
 166. is. Will be. 
 
 167. but now begins. But is beginning now. 
 
 168. Cf. Rev. xx. 2. 
 
 172. swinges. Lashes. 
 
 173. These stanzas (xix-xxv) develop the tradition that 
 at the birth of Christ the heathen deities fled from the 
 earth, and the oracles ceased to speak. In stanza xx 
 there seems to be the recollection of the old story that at 
 the time of the death of Christ the cry was heard by a 
 pilot on shipboard that Great Pan was dead, and such 
 effects followed as Milton has here described. It is to be 
 noted, however, that these stanzas are in the ode that 
 
MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 19* 
 
 celebrates the birth, not the death, of Christ; and that 
 therefore if Milton was thinking of the death of Pan, he 
 must have had the shepherd god himself in mind. In 
 any event, the conception of the heathen god dying when 
 Christ was born, thereby permitting the words 'Pan is 
 dead ' to be taken literally, is far more poetical (because 
 more concrete and imaginative) than the conception 
 which makes Pan a mere figure of speech. But as Milton 
 has already referred to Christ as the Mighty Pan, we may 
 suppose that he had in mind only the background and 
 incidental points of the legend. 
 
 175. words deceiving. The responses of the oracles 
 were often ambiguous or obscure. 
 
 180. cell. The cell {cell a) of a temple was the place 
 where the image of the god was kept. 
 
 1 81-3. What is the construction? 
 
 183. Cf. Jeremiah xxxi. 15, and Matt hew ii. 18 (Warton). 
 
 186. genius, Cf. Dictionary. 
 
 191. Lars. Spirits of dead ancestors, which were wor- 
 shipped as household gods. 
 
 Lemurs. Ghosts who required annual propitiation. 
 
 194. flamens. Priests. 
 
 195. chill marble. Statues. The allusion is to ' a usual 
 prodigy ' among the ancients (Keightley). 
 
 197-228. The student should read the passage (1. 381-521) 
 in the first book of Paradise Lost, in which some of the 
 deities here referred to are spoken of at length. 
 
 197. Peor and Baalim. Cf. P. L. i. 422. Baalim, a 
 term (plural) for Phoenician deities. Numbers xxv. 3. 
 refers to Baal-Peor, one of these gods (Browne). 
 
 199. 1 Samuel v. 3-4 tells of the twice battering of 
 Dagon. 
 
 200. Ashtaroth. Astarte, a Phoenician goddess corre- 
 sponding to Aphrodite. In P. L. i. 438, she is called 
 Astoreth, Ashtaroth being used as a feminine plural (P. L. 
 I 422). 
 
 A 
 
192 NOTES. 
 
 203. Hammon. Ammon, an Egyptian god, having the 
 horns of a ram or goat. 
 
 204. Thammuz. A Syrian god having some of the at- 
 tributes of Adonis. Cf. P. L. i. 446. 
 
 205. Moloch. Cf. P. L. i. 392. 
 
 4 Sandys in his Travels, a book popular in Milton's time, 
 says of the valley of Tophet: " Therein the Hebrews sacri- 
 ficed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having the 
 head of the calf, the rest of a kingly figure with arms ex- 
 tended to receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death 
 with his burning embracements. For the idol was hollow 
 within, and filled with fire; and lest their lamentable 
 shrieks should sad the hearts of their parents, the priests 
 of Moloch did deaf their ears with the continual clang of 
 trumpets and timbrels " ' (Browne). 
 
 212. Isis, wife of Osiris, the god of the Nile. Orus was 
 their son. Anubis was a god in the form of a dog, Apis a 
 god in bull form. Milton ascribes to Osiris the form of Apis. 
 
 217. Osiris was induced by his hostile brother, Typhon, 
 to enter a chest, and was thereby caught and put to death. 
 
 228. Almost certainly a reference to the story of the 
 infant Hercules, who in his cradle strangled two serpents. 
 This especially is the sort of thing that no religious poet 
 of to-day would venture upon. The progress of the idea 
 is rather interesting. The brother of Osiris is Set, whose 
 Greek name is Typhon. This suggests the Greek Typhon, 
 of snake-like form. The snake, inferior to the infant, 
 suggests Hercules. 
 
 229. The whole stanza seems really to be a comparison, 
 not a continuation of the previous imager}'. The false 
 gods flee at the advent of Christ; so troop away spirits 
 when morning comes. ' So ' means here 4 thus,' not 
 4 accordingly.' Previous editors seemingly take the 
 stanza as a carrying farther of the imagery. 
 
 234. fettered. Probably in the sense of impelled by 
 necessity. 
 
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION, 193 
 
 236. night-steeds. Masson (quoting also P. L. ii. 662) 
 takes them to be nightmares, in opposition to Warton 
 who accounts them to be ' the steeds of Night/ Rolfe 
 aptly quotes Comus 553. Steeds of Night' is the 
 simpler meaning. 
 
 240. teemed. Born. The star is, of course, the star of 
 Bethlehem. 
 
 241. fixed. Note the exact force of the word. 
 244. harnessed. Armored. 
 
 UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. 
 
 The dates of the poems On Time, Upon the Cir- 
 cumcision , and At a Solemn Music, are in doubt. In 
 the editions of 1645 and 1673 the poems follow The 
 Passion in the order just named. In the Cambridge MS. 
 they follow Arcades in this order — Solemn Music, 
 Time, Circwncision, — two drafts of a prose letter 
 intervening between the final draft of Solemn Music 
 and Time. Because of their position in the Cambridge 
 MS., Masson in his latest edition of Milton (1890) prints 
 the poems after Arcades, in the MS. order, and con- 
 jectures that their date^is therefore 1633 or perhaps 1634. 
 Masson makes the point that because they follow Ar- 
 cades in the MS. they must have been composed sub- 
 sequently to it, and Arcades he places near Comus 
 (1634) in time (say 1633 or early in 1634), because of its 
 4 intimate connexion ' with the greater mask. The 
 reason urged for the late date (for the Circumcision 
 poem is usually assigned to January, 1630, and the other 
 two poems are placed somewhere between 1630 and 1632) 
 does not seem to the present editor to be entirely conclus- 
 ive, as it assumes the chronological order of the MS. 
 pages, which were not bound together until 1736, and 
 also assumes that the pages were written upon in regular 
 order, whereas some of the intermediate pages of the MS. 
 
194 NOTES. 
 
 are still blank. The MSS. of the Time and Circumcision 
 poems seem to be transcripts and not first drafts. It is 
 a temptation, therefore, to regard these poems as earlier 
 in composition than the MS. indicates; but the handwrit- 
 ing so closely resembles that of the final draft of the 
 Solemn Music (which is preceded by the erased drafts) 
 that an effort to show that the Time and the Circumcision 
 might be of earlier date than the Sole?nn Music, would be 
 futile. The burden of proof, then, it must be acknowl- 
 edged, is upon those who hold the earlier dates. 
 
 The internal evidence is not positive enough to be of 
 much value. The Circu7ncision has conceits and antith- 
 eses that make it seem of early date; its subject relates 
 it to the early poems on the Nativity and the Passion. 
 The poem on Time is freer of artificial rhetoric and in 
 form it resembles the Solemn Music; but the maturer 
 tone of these poems, while thus pointing to a date later 
 than the Circumcision, nevertheless recalls the tone of 
 parts of the early Nativity. 
 
 On account of its subject, Upon the Circumcision is 
 given its present place in this volume; the other poems 
 are placed next to Arcades, — before, not after, in order to 
 keep the masks together. 
 
 i. flaming powers are seraphim: the word from which 
 4 seraph ' is derived means ' to burn.' The ' winged war- 
 riors ' are cherubim. Cf. Ezekiel i. and x. 
 
 2. Cf. Luke ii. 13. 
 
 6. sad share with us to bear. To share our sadness. 
 
 7-9. A play upon the opposition of fire and water, as 
 shown in the ' fiery essence ' and the tears. 
 
 10. Heaven's heraldry. This has been taken rather too 
 literally by the commentators. It would seem to mean 
 the cherubim and seraphim, already described in stanza 
 xi. of the Ode on the Nativity, not a ' troop of heralds/ 
 (Keightley) or ' heraldic pomp ' (Masson), 
 
 13. Sore, Sorely. 
 
THE PASSION. 195 
 
 . 15. Which was the greater, the love shown by Christ in 
 assuming human form to save men, or the justice of the 
 law that punished mankind for the sin of Adam ? It is 
 difficult to expand this extremely compact yet lucid line 
 and gain in explicitness, even at the expense of com- 
 pactness. 
 
 17. by rightful doom remediless. This may mean, 
 1 remediless, by any rightful judgment, i e., justly without 
 remedy ' ; or ' remediless, by reason of the rightful 
 judgment that had already been pronounced/ 
 
 21. still. Continually. 
 
 24. excess. Sin or transgression. 
 
 THE PASSION. 
 
 Probably written in 1630. The beginning of the 
 second stanza indicates that it was written before The 
 Circumcision. 
 
 4. divide. Share; but perhaps, as in Spenser (.F. Q. iii. 
 i. 40) in a more technical musical sense. Shakespeare uses 
 4 division ' in the sense of ' modulation.' (Schmidt.) 
 
 11. Keightly refers to Ps. xviii. 5. 
 
 13. Todd refers to Heb. ii. 10. 
 
 15. Cf. Ps. cxxxiii. 2. Milton's language is full of Bibli- 
 cal quotation and reminiscence. 
 
 19. mask, disguise. Used perhaps in their dramatic 
 meanings. See Introduction. 
 
 22. scenes. The imagery here, in the preceding stanza, 
 and in the second line of the poem, has a theatrical sound 
 that may be unintentional. The conventionality of the 
 reference to Phcebus is indicated by the fact that in the 
 line following, Milton uses ' His/ referring to Christ, as if 
 in perfect certainty that the pronoun would not be re- 
 ferred to the preceding masculine noun, Phcebus. 
 
 24-25. In antithesis to 22-23. 
 
 26. Cremona's trump. The Christiad of Vida of Cre- 
 mona (1490-1566). Vida also wrote an Ars Poetic a, 
 
*9 6 NOTES. 
 
 28. lute, viol. ' More apt ' than the trumpet. 
 still. Gentle. (Browne.) 
 
 29. Cf. II Penseroso. 
 
 34-5. Some of the books of elegiac verse at this time 
 had their title-pages black, with white letters. Masson 
 described a book of this kind (by Josuah Sylvester), in 
 which also ■ twelve of the succeeding left-hand pages are 
 totally black, save for the royal arms in white.' Todd 
 makes several references to this fanciful mode of indicat- 
 ing woe in print. 
 
 37. the prophet. Ezekiel. The whole stanza is an allu- 
 sion to the early chapters of Ezekiel. 
 
 40. now. At the time of the Passion. 
 
 43. sepulchral rock. The Sepulchre. This stanza, like 
 the fifth, is a rather laborious conceit. 
 
 46 Softened. Because of his tears. Though grief be- 
 numb his hands, yet his tears (being well-instructed) 
 would fall in proper order, scoring on the rock the letters 
 his hands could not trace. The treatment is beneath the 
 years the author had rather than that the subject is above 
 it. But the culmination of bad taste, to venture a dog- 
 matic opinion, is in the last line of the poem — the allusion 
 to Ixion. 
 
 51, Cf. Jeremiah ix. 10. 
 
 SONG ON MAY MORNING. 
 
 Date uncertain. 1630-1633 probably covers the period 
 in which it was written. 
 
 3. green lap. Not the verdure of the earth, but the 
 green robe of the flowery maiden, May. 
 
 ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630. 
 
 The date stands in the title, in the edition of 1645. The 
 lines appeared anonymously in the second folio of Shakes- 
 peare (1632), under the title: An epitaph on the admirable 
 
ON SHAKESPEARE. 197 
 
 dramaticke poet W. Shakespeare. Perhaps this is the 
 first poem that Milton had in print. 
 
 I. What needs. Why needs (what need is to). Cf. also 
 1. 6. 
 
 Shakespear. This spelling is retained as Milton's pref- 
 erence. LAll, 133 has the same spelling. 
 
 4. ypointing. A made-up word that succeeds in spite of 
 being made up. In genuine survivals (e. g. t ' yclept ') the 
 y is the prefix of the past, not the present, participle. 
 Milton uses the word in the sense of ' pointing-to ' the 
 stars. 
 
 10. easy numbers. In their preface to the 1623 edition 
 of Shakespeare, Heminge and Condell say: — 
 
 4 His mind and hancf went together: and what he 
 thought, he vttered with that eafineffe, that wee haue 
 fcarce receiued from him a blot in his papers. ' 
 
 and that each heart. And whilst that. ' Whilst ' is 
 omitted here, as 'that' is omitted after 'whilst' in 1. 9. 
 
 II. unvalued. Invaluable. 
 
 12. Delphic lines. As true and profound as the utter- 
 ance of the oracle. 
 
 13. our fancy of itself bereaving. Taking away our im- 
 agination by the substitution of his far greater imagina- 
 tion, and thereby leaving us as marble, — petrified by his 
 power, in which ours is lost. 
 
 Milton makes elaborate use of the idea; and remarkable 
 as the lines undoubtedly are, they have still the sense of a 
 conceit present in them: Shakespeare makes us marble; 
 that marble is his real tomb. One may legitimately ques- 
 tion, although no editor seems to have done so, whether 
 1 our wonder and astonishment ' and our being made 
 * marble with too much conceiving,' are truly congruous. 
 But the greatness of intention conquers the ultimate 
 inadequacy of the expression. 
 
198 NOTES. 
 
 ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER. 1631. 
 
 Thomas Hobson, who died 1 January, 1630-1, at the 
 age of 86, made weekly trips between Cambridge and 
 London. Evidently, as the important means of com- 
 munication between the university and the metropolis, he 
 must have been a marked figure in the university town. 
 His personal peculiarities added, doubtless, to his distinc- 
 tion. Milton avers that the carrier could not endure his 
 enforced idleness, but this can be taken as jestingly as it 
 was uttered. The most famous story of Hobson and his 
 livery stable — whoever wished to hire a horse must take 
 the one nearest the stable door, not his own choice nec- 
 essarily, but Hobson's choice — is told by Steele in the 
 Spectator, No. 509, 14 Oct., 1712. If this story is not apoc- 
 ryphal, it is very strange that Milton made no mention 
 of it. Very few rhymesters, writing in Milton's rhyme- 
 ster vein, would have let pass the opportunity to allude 
 to so capital a story. 
 
 5. Twas. He was. Milton uses the words semi-affec- 
 tionately — as one might pat a dog on the head and say, 
 It's a good old fellow. 
 
 7. For he. He is ambiguous, but seems to refer to Hob- 
 son, not to Death. 
 
 8. Dodged with. If the previous note be right, ' dodged 
 with ' would have our meaning of dodge, evade. If, how- 
 ever, ' he ' refers to Death, ' dodged with* would probably 
 mean to follow cautiously (Century Diet.). 
 
 the Bull. An inn that stood in Bishopsgate Street, 
 London. 
 
 10. his. Hobson's. 
 14. Death, in the kind office, 
 chamberlfn. Keightley remarks that the chamberlain 
 at the inns of those times was waiter, chambermaid, and 
 boots, 
 
AXOTHER OF THE SAME. 199 
 
 ANOTHER OF THE SAME. Probably written shortly after 
 the preceding poem. 
 
 5. sphere-metal. The metal of which the celestial 
 spheres (see note on Vac, Ex. 34, p. 183) were made. 
 
 7. Time numbers motion. Speed is measured in terms 
 of time, as, so many feet a second; but in Hobson's case 
 his motion put an end to (numbered out) his (life-)time. 
 The entire poem is a string of jokes on the notion that 
 as soon as Hobson stopped his labor, Death caught him. 
 
 10. principles. His motive power (Rolfe). 
 
 12. breathing. Stopping to breathe. 
 
 14. term. Termination. A pun on the academic use of 
 the word, — vacation is followed by the term. Here, pro- 
 longing the vacation made the term come all the sooner. 
 But to explain jokes is a more or less ungrateful task. 
 
 20. For one carrier there must be six carriers (pall- 
 bearers). 
 
 26. As. As if. Browne suggests an allusion ' to the 
 tl peine forte et dure " by which accused persons refusing 
 to plead, were pressed with heavy weights until they com- 
 plied or expired. The torture sometimes lasted so long 
 that the victims begged for the mercy of a speedy death 
 by "more weight."' This may perhaps be Milton's 
 meaning. 
 
 29. obedient to the moon. He made the same number 
 of journeys each month. 
 
 32. his wain was his increase. Doubtless the best joke 
 in the verses. 
 
 One can hardly help feeling in these poems the lapse 
 from good taste. Milton is not, indeed, unkindly, but 
 from a man of his sensitiveness one might expect repres- 
 sion of the jocular instinct when writing of Hobson's 
 death. The difference in station between Milton and 
 Hobson may be made responsible for the flippant tone of 
 the poems; but that very difference would have made 
 
200 NOTES. 
 
 Shelley (for example) shrink from what Milton carelessly 
 relishes. In a word, the poet added nothing to his own 
 nature, or to English literature, when he wrote these 
 poems. 
 
 EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WIN- 
 CHESTER. 1 63 1. 
 
 Jane, the wife of the fifth Marquis of Winchester, died 
 in child-bed, 15 April, 1631, aged 23. The immediate 
 cause of her death, according to a news-letter of the time 
 (quoted by Masson), was that she ' had an imposthume 
 upon her cheek lanced; the humour fell down into her 
 throat, and quickly dispatched her.' The great interest 
 that many felt in the sad event is the only thing that has 
 been certainly offered to explain Milton's interest in it. 
 
 3. She was 'a daughter of Thomas, Viscount Savage, 
 of Rock-Savage, Cheshire, by his wife, Elizabeth, the 
 eldest daughter and co-heir of Thomas Darcy, Earl of 
 Rivers ' (Masson). 
 
 12. her praise. Praise of her. 
 
 17. virgin-quire. Bridesmaids. 
 
 18. The god. Hymen. 
 
 22. cypress-bud. Symbolic of death. 
 24. lovely son. Charles, sixth Marquis. 
 
 26. Lucina. The Roman goddess of childbirth. 
 
 27. blame. In the sense of hostile intention. 
 
 28. Atropos. Lowell's lines, which are easily remem- 
 bered, name and distinguish the Fates: 
 
 ' Spin, spin, Clotho, spin! 
 Lachesis, twist ! and, Atropos, sever ! ' 
 
 — Villa Franca. 
 
 32. yet not. Masson, followed by some editors of school 
 texts, prints • not yet,' for which there seems to be neither 
 reason nor authority. 
 
 36. saved, Which had been saved. 
 
VALLEGRO. 20I 
 
 37. the tender slip was, as Keightley puts it, the pride 
 of 'the remaining flowers/ 'which he calls her "car- 
 nation train," apparently using " carnation" in the sense 
 of the Latin purpurens, i. e., brilliant, glowing/ 
 
 50. seize. ' In the peculiar legal sense of " to put one 
 in possession of " ' (Masson). 
 
 55. Here be tears. The verses that other poets wrote 
 upon the occasion. There is a tradition, referred to 
 doubtfully by Warton, which these lines (esp. 59) tend to 
 corroborate, that ' there was a Cambridge collection of 
 verses on her death, among which Milton's elegiack ode 
 first appeared/ This volume (if it existed) has not been 
 found. 
 
 56. Helicon. The mountain of the Muses. 
 
 57. bays. The bay (laurel) was an emblem of honor. 
 
 58. Browne conjectures : ' 'Fore thy hearse.' 
 
 58. Hearse. For the several meanings, Cf. Dictionary. 
 
 59. Came. Cam. 
 
 63. Cf. Gen. xxx. xxxv. 
 
 L'ALLEGRO. 
 
 Date uncertain. Masson inclines to place it in the 
 autumn of 1632, just after Milton had gone to Horton; 
 and most editors assign it to the Horton period. Trent 
 argues, with some plausibility, that it might have been 
 written at an earlier date, say 1631. These comments 
 apply also to // Penseroso. ' L'Allegro ' and ' II Pen- 
 seroso ' may be translated ' the cheerful man ' and ' the 
 contemplative man/ 
 
 2. Cerberus. The three-headed dog that guarded the 
 gateway of the infernal regions. Milton here, as else- 
 where, varies mythology to suit himself. It was really 
 Erebus (Darkness) that was the spouse of Night. 
 
 3. Stygian. Adj. from Styx, one of the rivers of Hades. 
 10. Cimmerian. The Cimmerians lived in perpetual 
 
202 NOTES. 
 
 darkness, beyond the ocean streams. Cf. Odyssey xi. 
 
 13-19- 
 
 12. Euphrosyne. One of the three Graces. The literal 
 translation of the word is 'well-minded* or 'cheerful.' 
 
 15. Two sister Graces. Aglaia (bright) and Thalia 
 (blooming). The muse of comedy was also named Thalia. 
 
 16. To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore. This parentage of 
 the Graces is not the familiar one. Zeus and Eurynome 
 are usually given as their parents. 
 
 17. some sager. Sc. poets, or bards. Doubtless a play- 
 ful reference to himself. The genealogy that follows is, 
 as far as known, Milton's own invention. 
 
 25. Nymph. Euphrosyne. 
 
 27. Quips and cranks. Quips are sharp or bright say- 
 ings; cranks, ' odd turns ' of speech. 
 
 28. Becks. Beckonings. 
 
 29. Hebe. Cup-bearer to the gods. 
 
 36. mountain nymph. It is not at all certain that 
 Milton meant to imply the close kinship between liberty 
 and mountainous regions. On the other hand, Milton is 
 following no authority (this is not unusual with Milton) in 
 making Liberty an oread. 
 
 40. unreproved pleasures. Pleasures that call for no 
 reproof. 
 
 41. To hear the lark. The construction here may be 
 that of * to live with her,' etc., in 1. 39; z. e., the infinitive, 
 following 'admit/ Preferably, however, it may follow, 
 in sense, 1. 40; z. e. y one of the 'unreproved pleasures' 
 is, ' to hear the lark/ etc. This latter interpretation 
 makes easier the somewhat obscure passage beginning 
 
 1.45. 
 
 45. Then to come, etc. There are several interpreta- 
 tions of this passage. Either the lark or L'Allegro is to 
 come and at the window bid good-morrow : grammatic- 
 ally, either is possible. If the former, ' to come' is in the 
 same construction with * begin ' and ' startle/ 4 to ' being 
 
LALLRGRO. 263 
 
 there understood but not expressed. If the latter, ' to 
 come' (see previous note) follows 'admit,' or preferably, 
 'pleasures.' Grammar aside, the passage has been ex- 
 plained as the lark's coming; the man's coming from 
 within, and the man's coming from without, the house. 
 Larks do not thus come to windows, but Milton is not 
 always accurate in his observation. Masson, who rejects 
 the lark, thinks that L'AUegro, ' walking round the 
 country cottage ' looks in at the w T indow and bids the 
 family good-morning. The other interpretation (with 
 which the present editor agrees) is that L'AUegro, 
 awakened by the singing of the lark, comes to the win- 
 dow gaily (' in spite of sorrow ') and bids good-morrow 
 to the world. The student should reach his own con- 
 clusion by weighing the pros and cons of each interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 47. Sweet-briar and eglantine are the same. ' Twisted 
 eglantine,' Warton takes to mean ' honeysuckle '; Keight- 
 ley, 4 dog-rose.' 
 
 50. rear of darkness thin. Retreating darkness, the 
 last thin gloom, has its flight hastened by the martial 
 crowing of the cock. 
 
 53. Oft listening. The construction changes, but the 
 enumeration of pleasures continues as before. 
 
 hounds and horns. The shifting of the season here, 
 indicates that Milton is not concerned with any one day 
 or time or even place. 
 
 57. not unseen. The usual interpretation of this pass- 
 age — that a cheerful man likes to be seen by other men — 
 seems to make the expression rather far-fetched. Its 
 opposite, in // Pens, 65, is more apt. 
 
 60. state. An abstract word used for a concrete one. 
 Shakespeare also uses the word in the sense of pomp. 
 Keightley's ' stately progress ' loses something of the flavor 
 of the word it explains. Cf. II Pens. 37; Co?nus 35; 
 Arcades 14. 
 
204 NOTES. 
 
 67. tells his tale. This may mean tells a story, or 
 counts his sheep (tell = count, as telling beads; tale, 
 number). From the romantic telling his tale of love, the 
 less romantic spinning a yarn, and the practical sheep- 
 counting, the student may choose the meaning he thinks 
 most in accord with the spirit of the scene described. 
 There is nothing to fix Milton's own meaning. An editor 
 can only record personal preference, which, in this in- 
 stance, is for the last meaning. 
 
 68. dale. The student may be interested in noting the 
 different shades of meaning in 'dell,' 'dale/ 'vale,' 
 * valley.' Cf. Ruskin, Deucalion, Chapter XII. § 3: — 
 
 * " vale " signifies a large extent of level land, sur- 
 rounded by hills, or nearly so ... . The level extent is 
 necessary to the idea; while the next word, " valley," 
 means a large hollow among hills, in which there is little 
 level ground, or none. Next comes " dale," which signi- 
 fies properly a tract of level land on the borders of a 
 stream, continued for so great a distance as to make it 
 a district of importance as a part of the inhabited coun- 
 try .... " Dell " is to dale, what valley is X.o vale; and 
 implies that there is scarcely any level land beside the 
 stream. " Dingle " is such a recess or dell clothed with 
 wood; and "glen" one varied with rocks. The term 
 " ravine " [means] a rent chasm among rocks.' 
 
 70. landskip. An older form of the word, occasionally 
 used by a poet nowadays. 
 
 it. The eye, subject of * measures.' 
 
 71. lawns. Not lawns in the present American sense 
 of the word; but a stretch of grassy land. 
 
 73. That Milton was not in sight of the mountains when 
 this was written does not affect the poetry. Coleridge 
 had not even seen Mont Blanc when he wrote his remark- 
 able poem about that mountain. 
 
 77. Towers and battlements. Readers have supposed 
 Milton to be thinking of Windsor Castle. This is not 
 
L'ALLEGRO. 205 
 
 unlikely; Windsor may be seen from Horton, where the 
 poem was probably written. 
 
 79. lies. Lives. 
 
 80. Cynosure. Cf. Dictionary. Cf. Co?nus y 341. 
 
 83. Corydon and Thyrsis. Milton has not only brought 
 in mythological supernatural characters, but gives here 
 classical names to his human personages. Corydon and 
 Thyrsis were favorite names of shepherds in idyllic or 
 pastoral poetry; Phyllis and Thestylis, of shepherdesses. 
 
 87. bower. Cf. Dictionary. 
 
 89. Or if the earlier season lead. Milton's recognition 
 here of two periods of the year shows that he is not try- 
 ing to adhere strictly to the pleasures of one particular 
 day. 
 
 lead. Supply 'her'; but perhaps the verb is intran- 
 sitive. 
 
 90. The omission may be supplied by 'to go.' Phyllis 
 leaves her bower to bind the sheaves, or to go to the 
 ' tanned haycocks.' 
 
 91. secure. Free from care. Compare with its present 
 meaning. 
 
 97. come. The parsing of this word has caused some 
 trouble. It may have one of three constructions: — And 
 (to) young and old (who have) come forth to play; or, 
 following ' when ' (93), — when the bells ring, the rebecks 
 sound, and young and old come forth. Or, indeed, we 
 may count it as an irregular construction, — a principal 
 statement independent of what has gone before. 
 
 102. faery Mab. Cf. Romeo and Juliet I. iv. 53. 
 
 eat. Past tense. This form (now pron. et) is in fre- 
 quent use to-day as a substitute for ate. 
 
 103. She. One of the maids. 
 
 104. And he. One of the youths. 
 
 friars lantern. Probably the will o' the wisp. Cf. 
 Kittredge: The Friar's Lantern and Friar Rush (Publica- 
 tions Modern Language Assn., XV. 415). This line is a 
 
206 NOTES. 
 
 difficult one to explain in connection with the line follow- 
 ing. The reading of 1673 : 
 
 And by the Friars Lanthorn led 
 
 gives an easy connection with the line preceding, but 
 leaves ' Tells ' (1. 105) entirely without a subject. Browne 
 suggests ' Tales' for 'Tells,' the construction being then 
 that of ' stories' fnl. 101: the emendation does not satisfy, 
 as it merely substitutes one awkward construction for 
 another. Before the appearance of Professor Kittredge's 
 article there was a difficulty about the passage, that was 
 caused by the commentators and not by Milton, — the 
 erroneous identification of the Friar with Friar Rush. 
 This point having been settled in the article named, the 
 real difficulty remains: namely, that ' he,' the rustic, 
 tells of Robin Goodfellow; what then, is the reason for 
 referring to the will o' the wisp? It is rather futile to 
 say that the youth had once followed the ignis fatuus 
 and now tells of the drudging goblin: the reference is 
 irrelevant. The present editor has no better explanation 
 to offer than the guess that 4 by friar's lantern led' is here 
 a figure of speech for * mistaken ': ' he, stupidly mistaken, 
 tells about the drudging goblin.' But this seems far- 
 fetched. 
 
 105. drudging goblin. Robin Goodfellow. A literary 
 descendant of his is Puck in Midsummer Nighfs Dreain. 
 
 106. cream-bowl. A bowl of cream seemed to be the 
 goblin's compensation for his strenuous efforts. 
 
 no. Then lies him down. The construction seems still 
 to depend upon ' Tells how.' 
 lubber. Clownish. 
 
 117. then. After the pleasures of the country have 
 been exhausted. This passage, too, has caused much 
 comment. Masson thinks it is only in his reading that 
 L'Allegro sees the pomp and feast and revelry, etc., such 
 
UALLEGkO. 26y 
 
 reading contrasting with the reading of II Penseroso. 
 Verity disputes this interpretation, remarking that the 
 contrast is between II Penseroso's reading and L'Allegro's 
 lack of reading. Trent suggests the difficulty of bringing 
 L' Allegro to the city. Of course if Milton is describing 
 precisely one day, it would certainly be difficult to hear 
 all the tales of the country-folk (however early bedtime 
 might be) and then reach the city in time for all the fes- 
 tivities described, even if all these festivities could be 
 given in the night. But I cannot find any scrupulous 
 sense of time in either of these poems. May not Milton 
 mean merely that when we have enjoyed the pleasures 
 that rural life has to give us, then we are pleased by 
 * towered cities ■ and ' the busy hum of men ' ? 
 
 120. triumphs. Processions, tournaments, etc. See 
 Bacon's essay Of Masks and Triumphs. 
 
 121. store of. Many. 
 
 122. influence. A word of astrology: the power over 
 human affairs exerted by the stars; a * flowing-in ' of the 
 power. Cf. Nativ. 71. 
 
 123. both. Wit or arms. 
 
 wit. In the older sense of intellectual attainment. 
 
 124. The lady who presided and gave the prizes (Keight- 
 ley). 
 
 125. Hymen. The god of marriage. Hymen was a 
 frequent character in marriage festivities. 
 
 127. pomp. Literally, a solemn procession; probably 
 here in a more modern sense, as parade (Keightley). 
 
 128. mask. Cf. Introduction. Comus is a mask. 
 pageantry. A pageant was a movable platform or 
 
 wagon on which actors in costume performed or posed. 
 The mystery plays were given on pageants. 
 
 131. well-trod. The picturesqueness of this word is an 
 argument against Masson's view that Milton was describ- 
 ing L' Allegro's reading only. 
 
 132. Jonson's. Ben Jonson, 1573-1637. 
 
2o& NOTES. 
 
 learned. Jonson was noted for his learning. 
 
 sock. The sock was the low shoe worn in Greek 
 comedy: the buskin the higher shoe (with very thick 
 sole) worn in Greek tragedy. 
 
 134. A charming but not very comprehensive or dis- 
 criminating criticism of Shakespeare; but Milton prob- 
 ably had in mind the traditional spontaneity of Shakes- 
 peare, contrasting with the scholarship of Jonson. Rolfe 
 rather too ingeniously thinks that Milton is speaking in 
 the person of L' Allegro, — i. c, presenting dramatically 
 L'Allegro's notion of Shakespeare. But 1. 117, 4 please us 
 then/ probably denotes that Milton was giving his own 
 opinion of things that were pleasant to one who was in 
 a cheerful mood. It hardly saves the critical value of 
 the passage, either, to say that it applies only to the 
 comedies, for these are as artistically put together as the 
 tragedies. 
 
 135. And ever. And at all times. 
 eating cares. A Horatian expression. 
 
 136. Lydian airs. Among the Greeks there were three 
 chief ' moods ' (modes) in music: the Doric, the Phrygian, 
 and the Lydian. ' The principal note of the last is F, 
 its scale being the scale of F with B natural substituted 
 for B flat. The tender character attributed by the 
 ancients to this mode results from the ascent by a semi- 
 tone to the key-note, the form of cadence most conclusive 
 and agreeable to us moderns. Therein the Lydian meas- 
 ure differed from the Dorian, which was the key of D 
 with F and C natural instead of sharp ' (Browne). Cf 
 Century Dictionary: mode. 
 
 137. Cf. Sol. Mus. 2-3. 
 
 138. the meeting soul. The soul that they meet or 
 affect. 
 
 139. bout. Turn. 
 
 141. Such a poise between spontaneity and control, that 
 being under control the song seems yet spontaneous. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 209 
 
 143. Perhaps a reference to the complexities of har- 
 mony and counterpoint. 
 
 145. Orpheus by his music won his dead wife back from 
 Pluto, but on the condition that he should not look at her 
 till the gates of Hades were past. He looked and lost 
 * his half-regained Eurydice.' Such music as Milton has 
 in mind would have won Eurydice, free of conditions. 
 
 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 For date, etc., see note on L? Allegro. » 
 
 Penseroso is an older form of the modern Ital. pen- 
 szeroso. 
 
 1. vain, deluding joys. Note, not merely the difference 
 in mood, but also the difference in treatment, of this 
 prelude and the prelude to L' Allegro. Milton then con- 
 tented himself with lively denunciation of Melancholy; 
 now as becomes a thoughtful man (II Penseroso) he gives 
 reasons. 
 
 2. Folly pure and simple is the only source of the ' vain 
 deluding joys/ 
 
 3. bested. Serve, avail. Bested (bestead) has other 
 meanings, for which Cf. Diet. 
 
 4. fixed. Firmly established. The American student 
 should be careful to note the difference between the Eng- 
 lish (and literary) use of the word ' fix,' and the Ameri- 
 can colloquial use (e. g., in the sense of ' arrange '). 
 
 toys. Trifles. 
 
 6. fond. Foolish. This earlier sense of the word sur- 
 vives in such expressions as 4 a fond mother' i. e., a 
 foolishly indulgent mother. 
 
 possess. Causative sense: make to be possessed. 
 
 8. Milton could hardly have found a less material 
 concrete image than this. 
 
 10. pensioners. Followers. Cf. Diet. 
 Morpheus. A dream god. 
 
2IO NOTES. 
 
 12. Melancholy means to-day a sadder state of mind 
 than it did in Milton's verse. But Milton's use is not the 
 original use. 
 
 16. O'erlaid with black. ■ Darkened, made black; not 
 covered with a black veil ' (Keightley). 
 
 18. Memnon's sister. Memnon, son of Tithonus and 
 Aurora, was king of the Ethiopians at the time of the 
 Trojan war. He was dark-skinned, and of remarkable 
 beauty. Commentators have questioned whether he had 
 a sister. It seems that he had, but this is immaterial, as 
 in either event Milton's lines have a point: as might be- 
 seem a sister of the beautiful dark Memnon himself. 
 
 beseem. Suit. 
 
 19. Ethiop queen. Cassiopea maintained her beauty to 
 be above that of the Nereids. In the end, their wrath 
 was satisfied by the exposure of Cassiopea's daughter, 
 Andromeda, to a monster of the sea. Perseus rescued 
 Andromeda. Cassiopea and Andromeda, after death, 
 were placed among the constellations, — 'starred.' 
 
 23. Vesta. Goddess of the hearth. She was the virgin 
 daughter of Saturn, and it is Milton's own mythology to 
 make her the mother of Melancholy. Critics have sought 
 to fathom Milton's meaning, but without convincing suc- 
 cess. The poet may have only intended to say symbolic- 
 ally that melancholy implied solitude and chastity. The 
 following lines (27-30) are probably not to be taken sym- 
 bolically; but may be regarded merely as a counterpart of 
 the lines in L'AUegro (20-24), that describe the meeting 
 of Zephyr and Aurora. 
 
 29. Ida. Mt. Ida in Crete. 
 
 32. demure. Milton uses the word in the sense of well- 
 mannered. 
 
 33. grain. Hue rather than texture. Cf. Cent. Diet. 
 As applied to color, it probably was first confined to 
 scarlet; and here may mean purple. 
 
 35. stole. Probably in the sense of veil or scarf. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 21 1 
 
 cypress-lawn. The first word is sometimes spelled 
 Cyprus, as if the material (crape) first came from that 
 island. ' Lawn ' was a fine linen fabric. Cypress-lawn, 
 then, was something like thin crape. 
 
 36. decent. Seemly. 
 
 37. but keep thy wonted state. In contrast with ■ Haste 
 thee, Nymph.' For ' state/ Cf. U Allegro 60. Here the 
 idea of dignity is obvious. 
 
 42. Cf. On Shakespear 14. 
 
 43. sad. The word has here still something of its 
 earlier meaning of serious. An interesting example of 
 the transition state of the word is to be found in Romeo 
 and Juliet I. i. 169, and 205-208. 
 
 Leaden. Cf. Keats: "Leaden eye'd despairs/' 
 — Nightingale. 
 
 52. Cf. Ezekiel, x. Verity recalls, that of the celestial 
 hierarchy the cherubim had as their special faculty the 
 knowledge and contemplation of divine things. 
 
 55. And bring along silently the mute silence. 
 
 56. Philomel. The nightingale. 
 
 57. saddest. The word here seems verging toward our 
 modern meaning. Cf. Shelley: 
 
 - Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.' 
 
 — Skylark. 
 
 plight. The meaning is doubtful. Plight etymo- 
 logically means a folding and therefore may refer to the 
 complicated notes of the bird; or it may have our mean- 
 ing of state or condition. 
 
 59. dragon-yoke. Again Milton's mythologizing; Cyn- 
 thia (Diana) was not drawn by dragons, as Ceres was. 
 
 60. The moon pauses above the accustomed oak, as if 
 to listen to the bird's singing. ' Accustomed ' may refer 
 to the nightingale's choice of some one tree to sing in, or 
 to the observer's habit of coming to that tree. 
 
 62. most musical, most melancholy. The poets have 
 
212 NOTES. 
 
 variously interpreted the nightingale's singing. Three 
 or four quotations may be made; 
 
 4 O Nightingale ! thou surely art 
 A creature of a " fiery heart ": — 
 These notes of thine — they pierce and pierce ; 
 Tumultuous harmony and fierce ! 
 Thou sing'st as if the God of wine 
 Had helped thee to a Valentine.' 
 
 — Wordsworth. 
 
 4 Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains.' 
 
 — To a Nightingale. Coleridge. 
 
 And later from Coleridge, in different vein: 
 
 * A melancholy bird ? Oh ! idle thought ! 
 In Nature there is nothing melancholy. 
 But some night- wandering man whose heart was pierced 
 With the remembrance of a grievous wrong. 
 Or slow distemper, or neglected love, 
 (And so, poor wretch ! fill'd all things with himself, 
 And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale 
 Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he, 
 First named these notes a melancholy strain. 
 And many a poet echoes the conceit . . . 
 'Tis the merry Nightingale 
 That crowds, and hurries and precipitates 
 With fast thick warble his delicious notes, 
 As he were fearful that an April night 
 Would be too short for him to utter forth 
 His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul 
 Of all its music ! ' 
 
 — The Nightingale. 
 
 4 Hark ! ah, the nightingale— 
 The tawny-throated ! 
 
 Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst ! 
 What triumph ! hark ! — what pain ! 
 O wanderer from a Grecian shore, 
 Still, after many years, in distant lands, 
 Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain 
 That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain- 
 Say, will it never heal ! 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 213 
 
 Listen, Eugenia- 
 How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves ! 
 Again — thou hearest ? 
 Eternal passion ! 
 Eternal pain! ' 
 
 —Philomela. Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Keats's Ode to a Nightingale must be read in full, for the 
 poet in no one place tries to seize the exact effect of the 
 bird's song. 
 
 64. even-song. The use of this word illustrates the 
 difference in effect between the denotation and the con- 
 notation of a word. Strictly, it may mean song at even- 
 ing; but ' even-song ' has also the meaning of 'vespers/ 
 or evening religious service: and Milton thus gives to the 
 nightingale's song an almost religious significance. 
 
 72. stooping through a fleecy cloud. Coleridge de- 
 scribed the same phenomenon even more explicitly : 
 
 1 And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, 
 That give away their motion to the stars.' 
 
 — Dejection. Cole?'idge. 
 
 S3. The bellman or night watchman often ended his 
 cry of the hour, with a benediction. ' Charm ' may mean 
 the frequently repeated cry. 
 
 87. Sit up until morning, for the Bear watches all night. 
 
 88. thrice-great Hermes. Hermes Trismegistus ( ' thrice- 
 great ' translates the latter name), a mythical king of 
 Egypt, to whom many books of later writers were 
 ascribed; these books dealt with many forms of learning. 
 To sit up all night reading Hermes Trismegistus was 
 certainly the reverse of unscholarly. 
 
 unsphere. Figuratively to call from its sphere the 
 spirit of Plato. Cf. Comus 3. Plato, none better, is 
 appropriately a man for II Penseroso to read, and of the 
 Dialogues the Phcedo may best serve to answer the ques- 
 tion propounded in 1. 90-2. 
 
 90. vast regions. Note how Milton brings out the 
 
214 NOTES. 
 
 power of the mind by this forceful antithesis of ' vast 
 regions' and * fleshly nook.' 
 
 93. And of those demons. Sc. ' tell.' Demons, in the 
 truer sense of the word; ' spirits.' Keightley calls atten- 
 tion to the fact that 4 assigning them their abode in the 
 four elements over which they have power rather belongs 
 to the later Platonists, and to the writers of the Middle 
 Ages.' 
 
 95. consent. A 4 feeling-together ' or agreement. 
 
 97. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy. In these four lines 
 it is reading, not acting, that is referred to; for of course 
 there was in Milton's day no opportunity to see Greek 
 drama. * Gorgeous ' is a fitting word to apply to the 
 splendor of the subjects in tragedy. Such dramas as the 
 (Edipus of Sophocles, the Agamemnon of ^Eschylus, and 
 the Hecuba of Euripides, may serve, among others, as 
 examples, respectively, of the three subjects to which 
 Milton refers. 
 
 101-2. Every reader likes to think that these two lines 
 mean Shakespeare. There is nothing to show that they 
 do not. 
 
 buskined. Cf, U Allegro 132, note, p. 208. Cf. also 
 Arcades 33, note p. 221. 
 
 103. sad. As before, — sober, serious. The thought of 
 the extant Greek literature makes the poet long for the 
 fabled songs of Musaeus and Orpheus. 
 
 104. Musaeus. A poet belonging to Greek mythology; 
 the son of Orpheus, according to one tradition. 
 
 105. Orpheus. Cf. UAH. 145. 
 
 109. The reference is to Chaucer, whose Squieres Tale 
 is unfinished. For the story the student may refer to 
 The Canterbury Tales, Cambuscan (Cambinskam) was 
 the Tartar king; Camball and Algarsife (Cambalo, Al- 
 garsyf), his sons; Canace (Canacee), his daughter. The 
 * virtue ' of the ring was that its possessor should know 
 the speech of birds and the properties of herbs; the 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 215 
 
 mirror would discover the true and the false, and show 
 the future; the horse of brass would carry its owner wher- 
 ever he wished. There is also in the story a magic sword, 
 against which no armor was invulnerable, and which 
 could cure the wounds it made. 
 
 112. Canace. Trisyllable. Milton not unnaturally 
 brings up the question as to 'who had Canace to wife '; 
 for Chaucer after referring to Cambalo as a son of Cam- 
 binskan, in the beginning of the tale, used the same 
 name for the lover of Canacee, the daughter of Cambin- 
 skan. 
 
 113. virtuous. See note on 1. 109. 
 
 116. The construction is condensed: ' and that thy 
 power might call up other great bards if they have sung 
 aught else/ etc. Critics agree that Spenser, at least, is 
 meant; and probably. Ariosto and Tasso. 
 
 120. Pretty certainly an allusion to such allegory as is 
 in The Faerie Quee7ie, although a simpler explanation is 
 possible. 
 
 121. pale. The absence of color in the night is the 
 justification of the word. 
 
 122. civil-suited. The meaning is clear, from the 
 antithesis in the next line. Civil: civilian. 
 
 123. tricked and frounced. Adorned, and curled or 
 plaited. 
 
 124. Cephalus, in the usual story ; is the husband of 
 Procris. He was a hunter, whom Aurora loved. 
 
 125. kerchiefed. Having a head-covering. Cf. Diet. 
 
 128. his. Its. 
 
 129. ending may belong to ' shower,' or, as Keightley 
 suggests, to ' gust.' 
 
 130. When the shower is over, the drops fall slowly 
 from the eaves. 
 
 132. goddess. Melancholy. 
 134. brown. Dark (Keightley). 
 Sylvan. Sylvanus, a forest-god. 
 
216 NOTES. 
 
 135. monumental oak. The expression seems unmis- 
 takable until one finds that it has been taken to refer to 
 the fact that monuments in churches were sometimes 
 carved of oak. Most readers will prefer the notion of the 
 oak as a very monument among trees. Spenser speaks 
 of the ' builder oak.' 
 
 145. consort. Two meanings are possible: companion- 
 ship, and consort. ' They ' seems to refer to ' waters.' 
 
 147-150. These lines are difficult to interpret exactly. 
 A probable construction is: ' And let some strange mys- 
 terious dream (laid softly on my eyelids) wave at his 
 wings (Sleep's), displayed in airy stream of lively por- 
 traiture.' 'Wave at his wings ' may mean a trembling 
 movement corresponding to the uncertainty and mystery 
 of dreams, — a movement caused by the wings of Sleep. 
 •Displayed' may refer to the dream, revealed in rapid 
 succession ('airy stream') of vivid images ('lively por- 
 traiture'). In prose translation: 'Let a strange dream, 
 coming softly before my eyes, tremble through its changes 
 with the motion of Sleep's wings.' The passage has been 
 much be-commented, and whatever plausible interpreta- 
 tion the student may find is 1 ikely to have some fair 
 authority to support it. 
 
 151. (let) sweet music breathe. * 
 
 153. Spirit has here, as often in Shakespeare and his 
 contemporaries, a monosyllabic value. Cf. ' sprite.' 
 
 154. Or (by) the unseen Genius. Cf. Arcades 44. 
 
 156. cloister's pale. The cloister's limits. Some editors 
 print ' cloisters pale,' /. *?., pale cloisters, which is the 
 reading of 1645 (' Cloysters pale'). Warton suggested 
 the emendation ' cloister's pale,' which may be the origi- 
 nal meaning, as Milton did not usually use the apostrophe 
 as the sign of the possessive. Landor, however, prefers 
 the old reading {Conversations of Literary Men: XVIII. 
 Southey and Landor. The exact scene of this description 
 in these lines has been a matter of dispute. It really makes 
 
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 217 
 
 no difference where the cloister was, or whether the next 
 lines refer to a cathedral or a college chapel. Masson is 
 doubtless right in thinking that Cambridge with its 
 cloisters and chapels furnishes an appropriate original. 
 
 158. antique. Antick is Milton's spelling, and antic 
 (fanciful or strange) may be his meaning. But had he 
 meant ' antique ' in our sense, he might still have spelled 
 it as he did. The meaning 'ancient' seems the more 
 fitting one. 
 
 massy proof. Some editors give * massy-proof/ mean- 
 ing (in rather a forced way) massive pillars proof (adj.) 
 against the weight of the vaulting. Verity says, ' But 
 proof may be a noun (in apposition to pillars), with the 
 sense of solidity/ It is just possible that Milton wrote 
 ' mass-yproof ' (philologically at fault, as was ' star- 
 ypointing '), which would give perfect sense : proof against 
 the mass they upheld. 
 
 159. storied windows. That represent scenes from 
 sacred history. 
 
 162. quire. Choir; not in an architectural sense. 
 
 169. The hairy gown would of itself suggest penance — a 
 somewhat discordant note, — but * peaceful hermitage ' 
 and ■ mossy cell ' indicate that the gown is merely part 
 of the picture. 
 
 170. spell. Examine into, study. 
 173. old. Prolonged. 
 
 AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 
 
 Date uncertain. Masson suggests 1633 or !634l Rolfe 
 1630; other editors, dates between these extremes. Cf. 
 note under Circum. p. 193. The title implies a concert of 
 sacred music. 
 
 1. pledges. Perhaps in the sense of offspring ; or 
 pledges —assurances of the joyousness of heaven. 
 
 2. sphere-born. Rolfe suggests, born of the air or at. 
 
218 NOTES. 
 
 mosphere, a line in Comus (241) having obviously this 
 meaning of sphere. An allusion to the music of the 
 spheres, see Nativ. 125, note. p. 189, is also possible. 
 4. pierce was a closer rime to ' verse ' than it is now. 
 
 6. concent. The reading of 1673. Browne, following 
 1645 ed., reads ' content. ' 
 
 7. Cf. Ezek. i. 26. 
 
 10. burning row. Cf. Circum. 1, note, p. 194. 
 
 18. answer. Answer to. 
 
 noise. Cf. Nativ. 97, note, p. 189. 
 
 19. as once. Before paradise was lost. 
 
 20. chime. Harmony. 
 
 27. consort. Milton is probably playing seriously upon 
 the word, meaning fellowship and music. The pun, con- 
 sort — concert, would not have been offensive in serious 
 writing of that and an earlier day. Indeed, much of the 
 punning and wordplay of Shakespeare seems to be rather 
 more like alliteration in intention and effect than like the 
 small jest a pun is in our day. 
 
 ON TIME. 
 
 Date uncertain. Cf. note on preceding poem, and note 
 on Circum. p. 193. The words [To be] ' set on a Clock- 
 case ' are found (crossed out) in the Cambridge MS. 
 Milton did not print them. 
 
 2. call on. In the sense of ' incite to greater speed/ 
 
 3. plummet. Certainly refers to the slow-moving weight 
 of the clock, not to the comparatively quick-moving pen- 
 dulum. 
 
 4. womb. An older use of the word. Cf Dictionary. 
 
 11. our bliss. Us, who shall then be blissful. 
 
 12. individual. Not to be divided, hence, probably, 
 eternal. 
 
 18. happy-making sight. The Beatific Vision (Newton). 
 Sight means our sight of God. The somewhat involved 
 
ARCADES. 219 
 
 construction may be resolved into: When once our souls 
 shall climb to sight of Him, the sight alone rendering us 
 happy, then quit of all this grossness, and attired with 
 stars, we shall, etc. 
 
 21. attired. Keightley gives a number of instances to 
 show that Milton might have meant ' crowned/ not 
 ' clothed,* as the most commentators have it. 
 
 ARCADES. 
 
 Date uncertain. The fact that it is a fragmentary 
 mask leads some editors to place it near Comus (1634) in 
 point of time, — say 1633. Internal evidence is here not 
 very conclusive: although in style, the poetry is nearer to 
 Comus and L Allegro and II Penseroso than to the Nativity 
 ode. It certainly precedes Comus, and probably by a 
 year or two. 
 
 The 'entertainment,' of which this is a part, was given 
 in honor of the Dowager Countess of Derby, who had the 
 rare, indeed the unique, fortune to be celebrated poetic- 
 ally by the two great poets, Spenser and Milton. She 
 was the daughter of Sir John Spencer, and was married 
 first to Ferdinando, fifth Earl of Derby (at whose death 
 she became Countess Dowager), and second to Sir Thomas 
 Egerton, It should be noted here that Lady Frances 
 Stanley, her daughter by her first marriage, was after- 
 ward married to Sir John Egerton, son of Sir Thomas 
 Egerton by a former marriage. This Sir John Egerton 
 became Earl of Bridgewater, in whose honor Comus was 
 given. The Countess Dowager was over seventy at the 
 time Arcades was written, and the occasion was doubtless 
 one of unusual interest. One may imagine how readily 
 the younger members of the family entered into the spirit 
 of the festivities which were to do honor to the great lady, 
 who was no stranger to poetical praise. For not only had 
 Spenser written of her, as had Harrington, and Davies, 
 
2 20 NOTES. 
 
 and doubtless others, but a mask had been composed for 
 her in 1607 by Marston. As Masson suggests, there can 
 hardly be any doubt that the composer Lawes (see note, 
 p. 267, on the So?inet to Lawes), who was at that very time, 
 doubtless, in attendance upon the family as teacher of 
 music, had much to do with the entertainment ; and if he 
 had, then without much question, it was through him that 
 Milton was asked to write the songs that were to be set to 
 music and the speech that was to be declaimed. And, to 
 carry the hypothesis to its legitimate conclusion, Milton's 
 success with Arcades must have been a sufficient reason 
 for inviting him to write the more ambitious mask, Comus. 
 
 The little play, slender of plot, but graceful, is given 
 in the evening in open air. Evidently the Countess 
 is seated on a throne of state: to her approach the Ar- 
 cadians ■ in pastoral habit,' and as they draw near they 
 sing their song of praise. Then the Genius of the 
 Wood meets them, speaking words in honor of them and 
 of the lady. The speech breaks into song at the close, 
 and is followed by a chorus (probably) which ends Milton's 
 share in the entertainment. There may have been more 
 both to precede and to follow, but we have only what is 
 before us here. 
 
 Arcades. Trisyllable : Ar'-ca-des. Inhabitants * of 
 famous Arcady.' 
 
 2. sudden blaze of majesty. This may be a mere com- 
 pliment, or, as Masson suggests, the * seat of state ' may 
 be ' arranged so as to glitter in the light/ 
 
 7. solemn search. As if the maskers had been search- 
 ing the * fair wood ' for her. ' Solemn ' has here some- 
 thing of its original meaning : pertaining to an annual 
 ceremony. Cf. 1. 39: * glad solemnity.' 
 
 8. Fame, etc. The Countess had been praised by 
 Spenser and other poets. 
 
 raise. 'Extol,' of which word 'raise' is really a 
 translation. 
 
 
ARCADES. 221 
 
 9. erst. Before we had seen her. 
 
 13. bid (Fame). 
 
 .14. radiant state. Again the useful word, * state.' It 
 may mean stateliness, or merely a state or condition of 
 radiance, or ' radiancy proceeding from where she was 
 sitting in state ' (Keightley). 
 
 20. Latona was the mother of Apollo and Diana. 
 
 21. Cybele, or Rhea, was the mother of the gods. In 
 art she was represented with a turreted diadem. 
 
 23. Juno dares not give her odds. Even Juno must con- 
 tend with her on equal terms. Masson suggests a more 
 personal application than the other commentators have 
 thought of : that as the Countess (like Cybele) sat with 
 her descendants about her, even the handsomest (Juno) 
 must yield to her. 
 
 26. gentle. In its earlier sense of ' nobly born.' 
 30. Alpheus. Written ' Alpheus ' in MS. A river in 
 Arcadia. One story is : Alpheus was a river god who 
 fell in love with the nymph Arethusa, bathing in the 
 stream. She fled to Ortygia, near Sicily, he following 
 under ground and ' under seas/ He rose in the fountain 
 called Arethusa, meeting her at last. Cf. Coleridge: 
 Kubla Khan : — 
 
 « Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
 Through caverns measureless to man 
 Down to a sunless sea.' 
 
 33. buskined. Wearing the high shoe of the huntress 
 nymphs, Cf. L Allegro 132, note, p. 208. 
 
 as great and good as their companions, the swains. 
 
 34. free. Voluntary, liberal. 
 
 46. curl. ' Curled ' was a frequent adjective for wood 
 or grove, as if the foliage resembled the curled hair of a 
 lady. Todd quotes similar uses of the word from Dray- 
 ton, Jonson, Browne, Drummond, and Sylvester. Carry- 
 
22 2 NOTES. 
 
 ing out the image, the poet speaks of ringlets and woven 
 windings, which need not be translated respectively into 
 specific kinds of foliage. 
 
 50. Evil dew. Cf. 'wicked dew,' Tempest I. ii. 320. 
 
 51. Thwarting has probably its original meaning of 
 transverse, rather than its later meaning, preventing. 
 * Thwarting thunder blue ' may have been intended by 
 Milton to show the same picture as Shakespeare's ' cross 
 [zig-zag] blue lightning.' Jul. Cess. I. iii. 50 (Warton). 
 
 52. cross. Adverse. The ' dire-looking planet' is prob- 
 ably Saturn. ' Smites ' recalls Shakespeare's 4 No planets 
 strike.' Hamlet I. i. 162. 
 
 57. horn. The huntsman's. 
 
 60. murmurs. Charms murmured. 
 
 63. celestial sirens. Not the Muses, unless Milton is 
 again his own myth-maker. The reference in these lines, 
 as has been frequently pointed out, is to a passage in Plato's 
 Republic X., the tale of Er. The part that Milton had in 
 mind was the vision of the spindle of Necessity piercing 
 the eight whorls or spheres which fitted into each other. 
 On each sphere was a siren, who sang one note ; the eight 
 making a harmony. The daughters of Necessity, the 
 three Fates, to the accompaniment of the sirens, sing of 
 the past, present, and future. (The student should refer, 
 of course, to the text itself.) It will be seen that Milton 
 has not adhered rigidly to the Platonic description, 
 although following it in the main. The eight spheres of 
 Plato have become nine (although Milton elsewhere — 
 P. Z. iii. 481-3 — refers to ten spheres), possibly to make 
 their number, and hence the number of the sirens, equal 
 to that of the Muses; the three Fates are listening in- 
 stead of singing; and the power of music to * lull* the 
 three is spoken of. Other variations may also be traced, 
 but the notion of the music of the spheres is essentially 
 that given in the vision referred to. Cf. note, Vac. Ex. 
 34, p. 183. 
 
COM US. 223 
 
 65. Strictly, only Atropos holds the shears. Cf. March. 
 Win. 28. 
 
 66. The Fates helped to turn the spindle and spheres 
 (in the Platonic vision). Milton seems to be referring 
 both to the spindle which passed throtigh the spheres 
 and to the spindle which Clotho held in her hand. 
 
 74. blaze. Declare, proclaim. 
 
 75. her. The Countess's. 
 
 79. lesser gods. The Genius is one of these. 
 81. state. Her throne. 
 
 97. Ladon. An Arcadian river. 
 
 98. Lycaeus, Cyllene. Arcadian mountains; as are also 
 Erymanthus and Maenalus, a few lines later. 
 
 106. Syrinx was a nymph who was pursued by Pan. 
 She was changed into a reed, which the god made into 
 musical instrument. 
 
 COMUS. 1634. 
 
 The things that led to the composition of Comus are not 
 known absolutely, but they may be guessed with reason- 
 able certainty. It was determined to give a mask at 
 Ludlow Castle, in honor of the Earl of Bridgewater, then 
 entering upon the presidency of Wales. Henry Lawes, 
 who acted in the mask and composed its music, was in all 
 probability the man who was responsible for asking 
 Milton to write the words. How agreeable the task was 
 to Milton is, of course, mere speculation : but one guesses 
 that having entered upon the task, the poet performed it 
 as a labor of love; for surely never had a man a task 
 more in keeping with his powers. 
 
 The Earl of Bridgewater, step-son and son-in-law of the 
 Dowager Countess of Derby (see Arcades, introd., p. 219), 
 was appointed by Charles I., in 1631, Lord President of 
 Wales. He appears not to have gone to his official seat 
 during the two years following his appointment; but the 
 
2 24 NOTES. 
 
 notion that this mask was part of the inauguration festivi- 
 ties rests upon no easily found authority. It may have 
 been, indeed, that the formal induction into office was 
 postponed until 1634 ; but there is nothing that editors 
 have quoted to show that this is anything more than the 
 first great entertainment given by the Earl after assuming 
 the presidency. That Comus would have made a fitting 
 part of the inaugural ceremonies, however, is obvious. 
 
 Comus was first published in 1637, not by Milton him- 
 self, but by Lawes, who put it forth anonymously. Lawes 
 had received so many requests for MS. copies of the mask, 
 that the ' often copying of it ' not unnaturally became 
 burdensome to the musician ; and the poem ' so much 
 desired ' was put into accessible print. It is significant 
 that it was Lawes, not Milton, who was thus called upon 
 for copies of Comus. Apart from the fact that Lawes 
 took a prominent part in the performance, as composer of 
 the music he probably seemed to the world as the main 
 person concerned with the creation of the mask, — the per- 
 son, therefore, to ask for the libretto. The poet was of 
 much less consequence. Ben Jonson had complained 
 bitterly, indeed, that the poetry in a mask was thought 
 subordinate to the other things in it ; nevertheless as one 
 reads such a mask as Shirley's Triumph of Peace, one 
 readily admits that in some masks, at least, the musical 
 composer, the scene-painter, the costumer, may have been 
 of more real value than the poet in providing a gay and 
 brilliant entertainment. 
 
 The title. Milton does not call his mask 4 Comus,' but 
 entitles it in 1645, and 1673, 'A Mask' (' maske,' MS., and 
 Lawes, 1637). I do not know who first printed the mask 
 under the title Comus, which has now become fixed. 
 Newton in 1766 used the old title; Verity refers to the 
 use of the title, Comus, in a Glasgow edition of 1745. 
 
 The dedication. This appeared in Lawes's edition of 
 1637, was reprinted in the edition of 1645, and was omitted 
 
COM US. 225 
 
 in that of 1673. Sir Henry Wotton's letter had the same 
 fortune. 
 
 Stage direction, descends. By some kind of machinery, 
 perhaps a strong wire, the Attendant Spirit was lowered 
 to the stage from above. 
 
 2. mansion. In its earlier sense of ' abiding place/ Cf. 
 John xiv. 2 ; 77 Pens. 92. 
 
 those. More forcible than ' the/ 
 
 3. insphered. Sphere imagery is not infrequent in 
 Milton. The use of the word here is figurative. 
 
 4. serene. Some editors, too curious in their scansion, 
 have indicated an accent on the first syllable of the word. 
 Such accentuation makes a smooth line, but the usual 
 pronunciation gives to the line an unusual and pleasing 
 cadence. 
 
 6. low-thought ed. Milton is within his poet's right of 
 making a participle out of a noun. So also, ' talented ' 
 and ' gifted/ occasionally objected to because no verb 'to 
 talent,' ' to gift,' exists. Language is not logical, but 
 sensible. 
 
 7. pestered. Encumbered, crowded ; not ' annoyed,' 
 which is a later meaning. An interesting word, going 
 back through O. F. empestrer to M. L. in and pas torium, 
 a clog upon a horse at pasture (Skeat). 
 
 pinfold. A pound, with which word ' pin ' is cognate. 
 
 10. this mortal change. Several explanations are at 
 hand: death (the change from mortality, or else a mortal, 
 i. e. % fatal change) ; a figure in a dance (Browne), as if this 
 life were but gay and thoughtless movement; and ' mortal 
 state of life ' (Masson). A simpler explanation may be 
 offered, ' change ' as a generic word, * changefulness/ A 
 collect in the Prayer Book (Communion Office) beginning, 
 * Assist us mercifully/ has: ■ Among all the changes and 
 chances of this mortal life/ 
 
 11. sainted seats. It is interesting to mark in this pas- 
 sage the easy, and to Milton perfectly natural, transition 
 
22 6 NOTES. 
 
 from profane to sacred, from mythology to religion. 
 Jove's court has in it sainted seats! And observe how 
 much more ■ sainted ' means than ' sacred ' would have 
 meant. 
 
 enthroned. The spelling and consequent accentua- 
 tion of this word (^/zthron'd, as Milton most probably pro- 
 nounced it; or en/hroned, as best suits our ear) raises an 
 interesting question: as to whether we should retain a 
 poet's accentuation that has ceased to be melodious to us, 
 when we can, without violence to the metre, substitute a 
 modern accentuation. It seems to me no greater a de- 
 parture from the poet's notion than is the inevitable 
 change in the pronunciation of the language. It would 
 be absurd for us to pronounce Shakespeare's lines as they 
 were pronounced in his day ' in spite of the fact that 
 Shakespeare would have been unable to follow easily one 
 of his own plays as spoken by our actors. Following 
 Milton, I have left the last syllable, 'ed,' unaccented, but 
 should be willing to hear the word read as a trisyllable. 
 
 13. golden key. Cf. Lycidas in. The language here 
 becomes very unclassical just before dipping back into 
 mythology in the word ' ambrosial.' 
 
 16. ambrosial. Literally, * immortal.' ' Ambrosia,' the 
 noun, has a narrower range of meaning than the adjective, 
 and refers usually to the food of the gods. 
 
 20. To Neptune fell the islands, as well as the sea, — 
 the whole realm between the heavens and the lower dark- 
 ness which fell to Jupiter and to Pluto respectively — * high 
 and nether Jove.' (I use here the Latin names, instead of 
 the Greek, because Milton has said Neptune, not Poseidon.) 
 
 23. unadorned. Otherwise unadorned. 
 
 25. several. Separate. 
 
 28. Not a mere idle compliment. Milton, like Shakes- 
 peare, loved his country. Every editor naturally likes to 
 put this passage alongside of the speech of old John of 
 Gaunt's in Rich, JL II, i. 40. 
 
COM US. 227 
 
 29. quarters. 'Divides' is the simple interpretation; 
 perhaps a literally fourfold division is meant, although 
 this seems hardly likely. Such a division might be Eng- 
 land and Scotland, the Northern counties and Wales, as 
 Keightley suggests. But these quarters are not mutually 
 exclusive. No explanation, however, is quite satisfac- 
 tory. The word ' But,' in 1. 27, seems to introduce an 
 antithesis between Neptune's disposal of the other sea- 
 girt isles and his disposal of Britain. That antithesis, 
 if it exists, should appear in 1. 29; but the line suggests no 
 such interpretation. 
 
 30. This tract. Wales. 
 
 31. A noble Peer. The Earl of Bridge water. 
 
 34. princely. Used figuratively. 
 
 35. state. Cf. LAll. 60. 
 
 37. perplexed. Entangled, not perplexing; save as per- 
 plexity follows complexity. 
 
 44. What follows, the story of Comus's parentage, was, 
 indeed, purely a Miltonic invention. 
 
 45. hall and bower. An expression frequently met with 
 in poetry; meaning literally, as here, the hall of the 
 castle (the great dining and living room of the whole 
 household), and the private or ladies' apartments; figura- 
 tively, as in Wordsworth's sonnet on Milton {London, 1802), 
 1. 4, standing for the whole home life of the days of 
 chivalry. 
 
 46. Bacchus. The god of wine. 
 
 48. Cf. the Latin construction, post conditam urbem. 
 The story of the transformation into dolphins of the 
 mariners who having seized Bacchus would have sold him 
 into slavery, is told in the Homeric Hymn to Bacchus 
 and by Ovid, Metamorphoses III. 660. Keightley points 
 out that the sea was the JEgestn, and the sailors Tyr- 
 rhenians. 
 
 49. Tyrrhene. The Tyrrhene sea is between Italy, 
 Sicily, and Sardinia, 
 
228 NOTES. 
 
 as the winds listed. Cf. Jahn iii. 8. 
 
 50. Circe. An enchantress whom Ulysses met {Odyssey 
 x. 133 f.), and whose magic potions changed men into 
 beasts, — wolves, lions, and swine. Her island was JE<za 
 in the Tyrrhene Sea. 
 
 55. youth. Youthfulness. 
 
 57. Comus does, indeed, resemble Circe more than 
 Bacchus. 
 
 58. Comus. Comus, as a god, does not belong to the 
 regular classical mythology. No commentator that I have 
 noted refers to an earlier authority than Philostratos the 
 Elder (Verity quotes from the Imagines I. ii.), who lived 
 in the third century a. d.: Philostratos describes a picture 
 in which Comus is represented as drunk and asleep. Ben 
 Jonson, in his mask of Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue 
 (1619), presents Comus as the ' god of cheer or the Belly,' 
 a character not at all akin to Milton's Comus. A Latin 
 work by Hendrik van der Putten (Puteanus), entitled 
 Comus, probably first published in 1608, and later, 
 strangely enough, in Oxford in 1634, has as its main char- 
 acter a figure more like Milton's Comus than like Jonson's. 
 Whether Milton paid much attention to these works can- 
 not be determined. His own Comus is distinctive enough 
 to be regarded as a Miltonic creation; but at the same 
 time, it seems very likely that Milton was acquainted 
 with the work of the Dutch professor. For a fuller dis- 
 cussion of this point, cf. Introd. 
 
 59. frolic. Cf. Ger.fronlicn. 
 
 60. France and Spain. 
 
 61. ominous. Full of omens, or portents. 
 65. orient. Bright. 
 
 67. fond. Foolish. 
 
 68. count'nance. So in 1645. To spell it in full would 
 suggest an Alexandrine. 
 
 72. A variation of the Circean bodily transformation, 
 which was complete. Newton ingeniously suggested a 
 
COM US. 229 
 
 good reason for the difference: that the crew of Comus 
 could be much more easily presented on the stage if only 
 the heads were changed. Indeed, it is not impossible 
 that Milton originally conceived the bodily transformation 
 as complete, and later made the alteration. Homer 
 allows no change in the minds of Circe's victims, — they 
 can see and lament their ' foul disfigurement '; the mental 
 degradation of Comus's followers is complete. 
 
 79. adventurous. Dangerous. 
 
 83. Iris' woof. Iris, the rainbow goddess; and 'woof,' 
 the threads that run crosswise in the weaver's frame. 
 The ■ sky-robes ' were woven out of the rainbow. 
 
 86. Lawes himself is the subject of the compliment. 
 Cf. the sonnet to Lawes, p. 103. 
 
 87. Cf. the construction of Lycidas, 1. 10-11. 
 
 88. Nor of less faith. Understand : than skill. 
 
 89. office. Duty, function. 
 
 90. likeliest. Most fitting (Verity), or preferably, like- 
 liest to be near (Trent). 
 
 93. The evening star. Keightley, followed by every- 
 body, recalls ' the unfolding star calls up the shepherd,' 
 in Mens, for Me as. IV. ii. 218. 
 
 94. top of heaven. High up, not necessarily the zenith; 
 the ' roof of heaven.' 
 
 97. steep. A somewhat perplexing word, variously ex- 
 plained : ' deep ' (Browne); 4 as the sun's car comes to it, 
 as it were, down a steep descent ' (Keightley); Verity 
 suggests the upward slope of the sea, as one looks at it 
 from the shore. The last interpretation would doubtless 
 be right, if the line had been written by a modern poet; 
 hardly right for Milton. Perhaps the sea growing deeper 
 and deeper — a steep descent — is meant. 
 
 98. slope. Sloped, sloping; like ' create ' for ' created.* 
 
 99. dusky pole. The north is meant, as the MS. in- 
 dicates. 
 
 101. Cf. Psalms xix. 4-5. 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 105. rosy twine. A twine of roses. 
 
 in. We that are made of a purer element, — fire. 
 
 112. quire. Usually taken literally, as if to imply the 
 music of the spheres which are spoken of in the next line; 
 but it may be merely figurative, ' the host.' 
 
 113. Spheres. Cf. Vac. Ex. 34, note, p. 183. 
 116. morrice. Or morris, a Moorish dance. 
 
 121. wakes. Merely the English word for vigils. 
 Originally a vigil kept before a church holiday; merri- 
 ment made it a carousal. 
 
 129. Cotytto. A Thracian goddess of wild revelry, 
 whose rites were secret. 
 
 132. spets. Spits. In MS., spitts. 
 
 135. Hecate. Here dissyllabic (as usually with the Eliza- 
 bethans), and printed Hecat* in the 1645 edition. Hecate 
 was a goddess (probably Thracian in origin) of witchcraft. 
 
 139. nice. Fastidious; here used contemptuously, as 
 of one disposed to be too good to join the revels. 
 
 141. descry. Reveal. 
 
 142. solemnity. Ceremony. Cf. Arcades 7, 39. 
 
 144. round. A dance, in which, probably, circular mo- 
 tion was originally the main thing, e. g., one in which 
 all the dancers joined hands and danced round a circle. 
 Measure obviously originally indicated a dance in which 
 the rhythm was carefully kept, — as a minuet; but here 
 ' measure * and ' round ' apply to the same ' wild, rude, 
 and wanton antick ' (MS.). 
 
 147. shrouds. Shelters. 
 
 151. trains. Allurements. 
 
 154. dazzling spells. The MS. had ' powder'd' at first, 
 but the word was erased and ' dazling ' written over it. 
 The change may indicate that Comus was first meant to 
 throw some powder into the air, but that later some sub- 
 stance was used that was capable of ignition. 
 
 spongy. Absorbing the spells like a sponge, and 
 remaining charged with them. 
 
COM US. 231 
 
 155. blear illusion. Illusion that makes blear or dim to 
 the truth the eye that observes. 
 
 157. quaint. Here used in a sense akin to the present 
 meaning ; unusual. Cf. Nativ . 194. 
 
 167. keeps up. When he might be expected to be asleep. 
 gear. Affairs, business. As in Shakespeare. Cf. 
 
 Richard III. I. iv. 158. 
 
 168. fairly. Softly. 
 
 169. The line has been read, following an erratum of ■ 
 the 1673 edition: 
 
 4 And hearken if I may her business hear ' 
 
 But the MS. and the 1645 text sanction the reading here 
 given. 
 
 may. Can. 
 !75- granges. Barns or granaries. 
 
 180. inform. Direct. Cf. S. A. 335. 
 
 181. blind. Obscure, dark, and leading nowhere. Cf. 
 blind alley (Verity). 
 
 188-190. This famous image is not to be taken too liter- 
 ally. The incongruity of anything that resembles a sad 
 (serious) votarist in palmer's weed rising behind Phcebus' 
 wain is hardly to be escaped, if the visual aspect of the 
 lines is insisted upon. Taken more simply, the image 
 justifies its repute. Evening comes on quietly, with fad- 
 ing colors; hence the first part of the figure: at the close 
 of day; and hence the second part. 
 
 hindmost wheels. One usually thinks of * Phoebus' 
 wain ' as a two-wheeled chariot, which therefore has no 
 * hindmost ' wheels. 
 
 195. stole. Stole, 1645 and 1673; stolne, MS. 
 
 203. rife and perfect. Prevalent and distinct. 
 
 204. single. Complete; nothing but darkness. 
 
 208. One thinks irresistibly of The Tempest (III. ii. 143). 
 Browne, especially, mentions the point. 
 212. siding champion, A champion who sides with one. 
 
232 NOTES. 
 
 215. Chastity, where another person might have 
 thought of charity. A Miltonic conception. 
 
 216. ye. 4 You' would be rather better English. 4 Ye ' 
 is a nominative. 
 
 225. casts. The construction seems to change, but 
 ' casts ' and ' does turn ' belong together; we should keep 
 the parallel form, 4 cast.' 
 
 231. shell. The MS. corrects (in margin) to 'cell,' but 
 does not erase ■ shell.' Shell is usually taken to mean the 
 vault of the heavens. There is a bare possibility that the 
 word is used figuratively for * body.' 
 
 232. Meander. A winding river in Asia Minor, that has 
 given a verb to the English language. The word ■ slow ' 
 was added in the margin: observe the metrical value of 
 the addition. 
 
 235. her sad song. Cf. II Pens. 62, note, p. 211. 
 
 237. Narcissus. The beautiful youth for whom Echo 
 pined in vain, and who, falling in love with his own reflec- 
 tion in the water, himself pined away and was changed 
 into a flower. 
 
 241. sphere. Cf. Sol. Mus. 2. 
 
 242. translated. Transferred. We retain this use of the 
 word in speaking of a bishop, ' translated ' from one see to 
 another. Cf. Heb. xi. 5, and Gen. v. 24. 
 
 243. resounding. 4 Re-sounding grace ' is especially apt, 
 addressed to Echo. Again note the unexpectedly serious 
 touch: 4 heaven ' is obviously no pagan Olympus. 
 
 248. his. The antecedent is 'something holy.' Ob- 
 serve that Milton prefers the old neuter genitive 4 his ' to 
 the comparatively recent 4 its.' Cf. Nativ. 106, note, p. 189. 
 
 249-252. A figure easier to feel than to explain sensibly. 
 They ( 4 raptures ') floated upon the silence of night, at 
 every fall (' cadence ') smoothing the darkness till it smiled. 
 Most of the difficulty that has arisen over the passage is 
 due to the use of the same kind of image (wings, raven 
 down) in two unrelated ideas (silence, darkness). ' It ' 
 
COM VS. 233 
 
 (1. 252) cannot refer to 'down': the MS. reading, * she/ 
 makes it obvious that ' darkness ' is the antecedent. 
 
 253. Circe's association with the Sirens is not Homeric: 
 The Odyssey places them upon another island. Circe's 
 attendants (Odyssey x. 350-1) were Naiads (1. 254). The 
 variation may be Milton's own, or, as Warton points out, 
 Milton may have read William Browne's Inner Temple 
 Mask (about 161 5), in which the same license occurs. 
 
 254. flowery-kirtled. Having garments made of or 
 trimmed with flowers; surely not 'flowered' (as of silk) 
 (K.), or because the Naiads were gathering flowers (War- 
 ton, quoted by K.). 
 
 256. as they sung. The Circean nymphs culled simples, 
 according to Ovid. Homer and Ovid make no mention 
 of their singing. Browne (see above) speaks of their 
 song. 
 
 2 57. Scylla and Charybdis (259), the rock and the whirl- 
 pool, between which mariners found it so hard to sail. 
 The strait was not near enough, by many leagues, to 
 Circe's island for the singing to be heard; and by associ- 
 ating the Sirens with Circe, Milton removes the possi-< 
 bility of reference to the Sirens' own island, which accord- 
 ing to some accounts, was in the strait 
 
 262. home-felt. Deeply felt. Cf. home-thrust. 
 
 267. Unless (thou be). 
 
 268. Dwell'st. Attracted from the third person. 
 Pan, the god of shepherds; Sylvan, a wood-god. 
 
 271. ill is lost. ' A Latinism, ?nale perditur ' (K.). 
 
 273. extreme shift. Last resort. 
 
 277-290. This line for line dialogue (stichomythia) is to 
 be found in Greek drama. A modern example (in shorter 
 lines) is Richard III. I. ii. 193-203. Cf. Kyd's Spanish 
 Tragedy I. iii. 77-89. 
 
 285. prevented. Anticipated. 
 
 286. hit. Guess. 
 
 290. Hebe's. Hebe, the daughter of Zeus and Hera, 
 
234 NOTES. 
 
 was the goddess of youth; and before the capture of 
 Ganymede, was cup-bearer to the gods. 
 291. what time. At the time when. 
 
 laboured Hard-worked. 
 293. swinked. Hard-worked, tired. 
 ,297. port. Bearing. 
 
 '99. element. Air, sky. 
 ..£pi. plighted. Folded (plaited). 
 
 Awe-strook. An old form of awe-struck. 
 310. Referring to the sureness with which one familiar 
 with a region may know in utter darkness by the feel of 
 his feet on the ground whether he be keeping the path. 
 
 312. dingle, dell. Cf. LAll. 68, note, p. 204. 
 
 313. bosky. Bushy, wooded. 
 
 bourn. The explanation (Verity, Moody) of this word 
 as a brook (burn) is unsatisfactory; Comus seems to be 
 naming the places he knows, where the brothers might be, 
 and obviously does not mean to imply that they are in a 
 brook. Warton's explanation is older, simpler, and ade- 
 quate; ' a winding, deep, and narrow valley, with a rivu- 
 let at the bottom.* 
 
 315. stray attendance. An abstract and not especially 
 good way of saying ' strayed attendants/ 
 
 316. Shroud. Pres. subjunctive. Have shelter. Cf. 1. 
 
 147. 
 
 317. The lark's nest is on the ground. 
 
 318. her thatched pallet. Her bed of woven straw, — in 
 other words, her nest. 
 
 If otherwise. If they be farther strayed than these 
 limits. Comus really offers the Lady lodging provided 
 her brothers are beyond his reach, but she accepts without 
 asking that search be made. 
 
 323. Milton's democratic spirit hardly needs pointing out. 
 325. courtesy takes its name from ' court.' 
 327. less warranted. Where there is less warrant for 
 thinking herself safe. 
 
COMUS. 235 
 
 329. square my trial. Make my trial suited *to my 
 strength. The word ' proportioned ' introduces an un- 
 necessary idea: ' which will then have been proportioned 
 to it.' In other words: suit my trial to my strength, my 
 strength to my trial, — a statement that returns upon itself. 
 
 334. disinherit. Dispossess; as * inherit' sometir- 
 meant merely 'to have.' The following images of re 1 ' 
 ing and usurping, however, make the usual meaning r os- 
 sible. 
 
 your. Plural. 
 
 336. influence. The astrological sense of the word, 'a 
 flowing-in ' {Cf. UAH. 122, note, p. 207), is made more 
 obvious by the verb * dammed.' 
 
 337. The mixing of figures, — usurping mists damming 
 up influence, — only helps to show that mixed figures are 
 not necessarily (although perhaps usually) bad. 
 
 338. rush candle. A candle in which a rush serves as 
 wick. 
 
 340. thy. Refers to ' taper.' 
 
 341. star of Arcady. Callisto, a princess of Arcadia, 
 was transformed by Diana into a she-bear, and placed by 
 Zeus among the stars. Callisto thus became the Great 
 Bear, her son Areas the Lesser Bear. The Greek sailors 
 were guided by the former, the Tyrians by the latter. 
 Any star of the former might be called a ' star of Arcady '; 
 the pole-star forming part of the Lesser Bear's tail (cyno- 
 sure, lit., dog's tail) was the ' Tyrian cynosure.' Later the 
 word came to be applied to an object that fixes the atten- 
 tion. Cf. LAll. 80. 
 
 345. oaten stops. Cf. Lye. 33, note, p. 253. 
 , 349. innumerous. Innumerable. 
 
 359. over-exquisite. Over-curious, too searching in 
 your desire. 
 
 360. To determine what the evils are like, before it is 
 certain that they exist. 
 
 361. For grant they be so. Either, grant there be evils; 
 
236 NOTES. 
 
 or, better, grant it be not ascertained whether the evils 
 exist or not. 
 
 362. date of grief. The time when his grief will come. 
 
 366. so to seek. So at a loss. 
 
 369. noise. Sound. Cf. Nattv. 97, note, p. 189. 
 
 370. 4 She ' is understood. 
 
 376. seeks to. Has recourse to. 
 
 379. In the manifold activity of society. 
 
 380. all to-ruffled. The MS. and the early (1645 and 
 1673) editions have ' all to ruffl'd,' which may stand for 
 three things : (a) all too ruffled; (b) all-to (completely) 
 ruffled; (c) all to-ruffled, to- being intensive, a prefix of 
 not infrequent use at, however, an earlier day than 
 Milton's. ' All to-ruffled ' has been the preferred reading 
 of our time. It has the advantage of a clear meaning 
 and weight of authority; the disadvantage of being an 
 archaic form, and one that Milton neither wrote nor 
 printed (the * altoruffled ' of 1637, quoted by the Oxford 
 Dictionary, not having Milton's authority behind it). 
 4 All too ruffled ' would seem to give the simplest mean- 
 ing, and the one most near to the MS. and 1645 text. 
 Judges ix. 53, which has been cited, hardly affects the 
 point. 
 
 382. centre. Of the earth. Shakespeare uses the same 
 expression. Hamlet II. ii. 159. 
 
 390. weeds. Cf. L'All. 120. Milton's search for the 
 right words shows most interestingly in the MS. erasures. 
 At first he wrote beads, then gowne, then beads again, 
 then weeds; the following line reading at first 
 
 4 his books, his hairie gowne, or maple dish.' 
 
 This was changed in MS. to the present reading. 
 
 393. Hesperian tree. The dragon-guarded tree in the 
 garden of the Hesperides, that bore the golden apples. 
 It was one of the labors of Hercules to obtain them. See 
 note to 982, p. 251,. 
 
COM US. ^1 
 
 395. unenchanted. Not to be enchanted. 
 
 401. wink on. Be blind to. 
 
 404. it recks me not (of). I take no account of. 
 
 407. unowned, hence unprotected by the responsible 
 person. 
 
 408. Infer. Draw conclusion, argue. 
 
 409. without all doubt. We should say, ' without any 
 doubt,' or * beyond all doubt/ 
 
 413. squint. Looking askance. Spenser's picture of 
 Suspicion (Suspect) is frequently quoted in illustration of 
 this expression. Cf. F. Q. iii. 12, 15. 
 
 419. if. Although, even if. 
 
 423. trace. Traverse. 
 
 unharbored. Unharboring. 
 
 426. bandite. Milton's spelling. 
 
 430. unblenched. Fearless. 
 
 432. The usual reference to Hamlet I. i. 158 is a matter 
 of words rather than of substance. Far more to the point 
 is the passage in Fletcher's The Faithful Shepherdess, I. 
 i. (first quoted by Newton) : 
 
 1 Yet I have heard (my mother told it me, 
 And now I do believe it), if I keep 
 My virgin-flower uncropt, pure, chaste, and fair, 
 No goblin, wood-god, fairy, elf, or fiend, 
 Satyr, or other power that haunts the groves, 
 Shall hurt my body, or by vain illusion 
 Draw me to wander after idle fires ' . . . 
 
 434. unlaid ghost. To ' lay ' a ghost was to exorcise it; 
 a ghost unlaid would be free to wander from curfew to 
 cockcrow. 
 
 436. of the mine. Referring to the notion that mines 
 were inhabited by gnomes. 
 
 438. or shall I call Antiquity. The previous allusions 
 are not to classic things, but to folk beliefs. Myths of 
 Greece are now to be referred to. 
 
 439. the old schools of Greece. Probably merely a 
 
238 NOTES. 
 
 reference to the scholarly atmosphere that now envelopes 
 the Greek myths, as distinguished from the popular be- 
 lief in superstitions. It seems hardly necessary to make 
 the line refer to Greek philosophy. 
 
 441. Hence, etc. Todd quotes Thyer's reference to 
 Lucian's dialogue between Venus and Cupid, in which ' 
 the latter declares that the Gorgon head on the shield of 
 Minerva frightened him, so that he durst not meddle with 
 her; and that Diana was so employed in hunting that he 
 could not catch her. Milton makes the tangible bow and 
 arrows of the one, and the Gorgon's head of the other, 
 symbols of the power of chastity. 
 
 447. Minerva's shield bore the head of Medusa, one of 
 the Gorgons. Snakes, instead of hair, crowned Medusa's 
 head; whoever looked upon it was turned to stone. Medusa 
 was slain by Perseus, who avoided direct sight of her by 
 seeing her reflection in his polished shield. 
 
 451. dashed. Confounded. 
 
 453. By skillful transition Milton passes from the god- 
 desses of pagan mythology to the angels. 
 
 454. sincerely so. Chaste without flaw. 
 
 455. lackey. Attend. 
 457. vision. Trisyllabic. 
 
 460. Begin. Milton wrote * begins,' but erased the final 
 s ; he wrote 'turnes' in 1. 462, but did not make the 
 change to the subjunctive that we should expect. This 
 may be an accident, for there is no obvious reason for 
 the inconsistent syntax. 
 
 462. Cf. P. L. v. 469-505. 
 
 465. lavish. Unrestrained. 
 
 467-475. Newton refers to Plato's Ph<zdo as containing 
 the substance of these lines. A passage may be quoted 
 (which embodies also the spirit of the three or four pre- 
 ceding lines): — * But the soul which has been polluted, 
 and is impure at the time of her departure, and is the 
 companion and servant of the body always, and is in love 
 
COMUS. 239 
 
 with and fascinated by the body and by the desires and 
 pleasures of the body, until she is led to believe that the 
 truth only exists in a bodily form, which a man may 
 touch and see and taste, and use for the purposes of his 
 lusts,— the soul, I mean, accustomed to hate and fear and 
 avoid the intellectual principle, which to the bodily eye is 
 dark and invisible, and can be attained only by philos- 
 ophy; — do you suppose that such a soul will depart pure 
 and unalloyed ? 
 
 Impossible, he replied. 
 
 She is held fast by the corporeal, which the continual 
 association and constant care of the body have wrought 
 into her nature. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And this corporeal element, my friend, is heavy and 
 weighty and earthy, and is that element of sight by 
 which a soul is depressed and dragged down again into 
 the visible world, because she is afraid of the invisible 
 and of the world below — prowling about tombs and 
 sepulchres, near which, as they tell us, are seen certain 
 ghostly apparitions of souls which have not departed 
 pure, but are cloyed with sight and therefore visible.' — 
 Jowetfs translation. 
 
 468. Imbodies and imbrutes. Becomes like a body 
 (material) and turns brutal (gross). 
 
 473. it. The * shadows damp, oft seen ' would seem to re- 
 quire ' they ' instead of ' it ' ; but Milton is probably think- 
 ing of one such shadow ' sitting by a new-made grave.' 
 
 474. linked. A participle. 
 sensualty. Milton's word in the MS. 
 
 476. How charming. Milton may pay this compliment 
 freely, since it is Plato, not himself, that he praises. 
 
 478. In Love's Labour's Lost (IV. iii. 342), Shakespeare 
 speaks of love, 
 
 ' as sweet and musical 
 As bright Apollo's lute.' 
 
240 NOTES. 
 
 480. crude. Unripe; or, perhaps, undigested. Milton 
 liked a feast to be dainty but not extravagantly profuse. 
 Cf. with this passage the Sonnet to Lawrence, 1. 9-14, 
 p. 10S. The same temperate spirit is shown. 
 
 483. night-foundered. Sunk and lost in the night. 
 
 490. That hallo. The answering cry of the Attendant 
 Spirit. The stage direction in the MS. reads: ' he hallows 
 [a space occurs here in the original MS.] the guardian 
 Daemon hallows agen & enters in the habit of shep- 
 heard.' 
 
 491. A line whose cadence is Fletcherian. ' Iron ' is 
 dissyllabic, and ' else ' is the eleventh syllable. ' Iron 
 stakes ' are swords. 
 
 494. The strains of Thyrsis seem to be as potent as 
 those of Orpheus. 
 
 495. Eighteen rhymed lines follow. There is no ob- 
 vious reason for departing from blank verse, although 
 more or less valid excuses may be framed for the change. 
 It is interesting to note that the MS. first read ' valley ' 
 instead of ' dale ' (496). 
 
 huddling. Hurrying. 
 
 madrigal. A shepherd's song, originally. For the 
 madrigal as an artistic verse-form, Cf. Schipper's Eng- 
 lische Metrik ii. 886-893. 
 
 501. next. Nearest. This meaning would make the 
 whole line an address to the elder son, as his father's heir 
 and dearest joy. Possibly, but not probably, ' next joy ' 
 refers to the younger son. 
 
 502. toy. Cf. II Pens. 4. The meaning ' trifle ' is im- 
 plied in ' trivial,' but a rhyme-word is needed. 
 
 503. stealth. That which was stolen. 
 
 506. To. Compared to. We say colloquially that a 
 certain thing ' is nothing to ' something else. 
 
 508. How chance. How does it chance that. Cf. Ab- 
 bott's Shakespearian Grammar, § 37. 
 
 509. sadly. Seriously. A frequent use. Cf. Romeo 
 
COMUS. 241 
 
 and Jit lie t I. i. 205-210. In these lines from Shakespeare 
 the double meaning of the word is clearly indicated. 
 
 515. sage poets. 4 Sage' was to Milton a fitting word 
 for poets and poetry. Cf. UAH. 17; // Pens. 117. Homer 
 and Virgil ' storied ' (told in story) the things here spoken 
 of. 
 
 517. Chimeras. Monsters with lion's head, goat's body, 
 and dragon's tail. Cf. P. L. ii. 628. 
 
 520. navel. Centre. 
 
 526. murmurs. Charms. Cf. Arc. 60. 
 
 529-530. unmoulding . . . Charactered. Breaking up, 
 or melting, the mold of reason of which the face had 
 shown the stamp. 
 
 531. crofts. Small inclosed fields. 
 
 532. brow. Are like a brow to the glade. 
 
 534. stabled wolves. This may mean ' wolves that 
 have got into the sheepfolds ' (Rolfe), or who have been 
 ' caught fast ' (Trent merely suggests), or more probably 
 (as most commentators think), ' wolves in their lairs.' 
 
 535. Hecate. Cf 135, note, p. 230. Here trisyllabic. 
 539. unweeting. Unwitting. 
 
 542. dew-besprent. Sprinkled with dew. 
 
 547. meditate. Cf. Lye. 66. 
 
 548. ere a close. Before the music reached a final 
 cadence. 
 
 553. The early editions (1637, 1645, 1673) read ' drowsie 
 frighted'; but the MS. gives ' drousie flighted,' — a read- 
 ing which Masson retains (with a hyphen joining the 
 words). Certainly 'drowsy-flighted' gives better sense, 
 in so far as the steeds themselves are concerned. But 
 * Gave respite to ' (i. e. , gave an opportunity to delay or 
 rest) seems at least partly to warrant ' frighted': fright- 
 ened by the noise of the rout, the drowsy steeds are given 
 a respite by the sudden stillness. Why drowsy flighted 
 steeds should be given respite by the silence is not en- 
 tirely clear to me. On the whole, the fact that Milton 
 
242 NOTES. 
 
 wrote ' flighted/ and did not change it in the MS., although 
 he made careful corrections only two lines below, makes 
 the reading given in the text seem the preferable one. 
 
 558. Was took. Was charmed. Verity quotes Hamlet 
 I. i. 162-3. £/"•> also, Winter's Tale IV. iv. 118: 
 
 4 Daffodils 
 That come before the swallow dares, and take 
 The winds of March with beauty.' 
 
 560. still. Ever. 
 
 560-2. I was all ear . . . ribs of Death. It seems quite 
 unnecessary to seek an explanation of this splendid image 
 in the fact that Milton may have seen some allegorical 
 print or other. Doubtless Milton was able to write it be- 
 cause he was a poet. 
 
 567. how near. How near thou art to, or preferably, 
 being so near to. 
 
 568. lawns. Cf. L'All. 71, note, p. 204. 
 
 573. prevent. Cf., with this use of the word, Nativ. 24. 
 575. such two. Two persons such as the Lady de- 
 scribed. 
 
 585. period. Sentence. 
 
 586. for me. For my part, as far as I am concerned. 
 
 591. meant most harm. Meant to be most harmful. 
 
 592. happy trial. Trial happy in its outcome. 
 
 597. consumed. The MS. and the 1645 reading is * con- 
 sum'd.' This leaves the line a syllable short. Pronounc- 
 ing -ed would make the line more metrical, but the dis- 
 syllabic pronunciation of ' consum'd ' gives peculiar 
 emphasis to 4 this.' 
 
 598. Cf. P ar adz's e Regained iv. 455-6. 
 
 603. legions. Trisyllabic. 
 
 604. Acheron. A river of Hell, here used for Hell itself. 
 Cf. P. L. ii. 578. 
 
 605. Harpies. Filthy birds of prey, with women's 
 heads. 
 
COMUS. 243 
 
 Hydras. Cf. Sonnet to Fairfax 7, note, p. 269. 
 
 607. purchase. Booty, spoils. 
 
 608. curls. Shakespeare also speaks contemptuously of 
 curled hair. Cf. Lear III. iv. 88. 
 
 610. yet. Although it is of no avail; or perhaps, the 
 the word is used in the sense of l still.' 
 
 611. stead. Good, service. 
 
 617. make this relation. Relate this. 
 shifts. Cf. 273. 
 
 619. Supposed to be an allusion to Milton's friend, 
 Charles Diodati (accent on antepenult), who was well 
 versed in botany. Milton's Epitaphium Damonis is an 
 elegy on the death of Diodati. 
 
 621. virtuous. Of curative power. 
 
 626. scrip. Pouch. 
 
 627. simples. Medicinal herbs, which might serve as 
 constituent parts of a compound; the parts being single 
 or ' simple.' 
 
 630. me. Ethical dative. 
 
 633. Bore. The subject of the verb seems to be missing, 
 but 'the plant ' is easily supplied. Scan the line: Bore 
 a I bright gol | den flower | but not | in this | soil. 
 
 634. like esteemed. Esteemed as much as it is known; 
 that is, un-esteemed. 
 
 635. clouted. Patched. 
 
 636. Moly. The plant that enabled Ulysses to resist 
 Circe. Odyssey x. 302-306. 
 
 637. He. The ' shepherd lad.' 
 
 Haemony. Haemonia was a name of Thessaly, a land 
 of magic; and it has been supposed that Milton thence 
 chose the name for the plant. Coleridge elaborately ex- 
 plains it otherwise : ' Apply it as an allegory of Christian- 
 ity, or, to speak more precisely, of the Redemption by the 
 Cross .... Now what is Harmony ? alfia ohos, Blood- 
 wine. "And he took the wine and blessed it and said, 
 * This is my blood/ "—the great symbol of the Death on the 
 
244 NOTES. 
 
 Cross.' Cf. Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, vol. i., 
 406-407 (Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1895). 
 641. apparition. Five syllables. 
 
 645. though disguised. Comus appeared before the 
 Lady, disguised as a 4 harmless villager ' (1. 166). 
 
 646. lime-twigs. Figurative for 'snares'; literally, 
 twigs smeared with bird-lime, — a device for catching 
 birds. 
 
 655. Cacus, a son of Vulcan, fought with Hercules, 
 4 atros ore vomens ignesj Cf. ALneid 8, 198, ff. 
 
 661. Daphne, fleeing from Apollo, was changed by her 
 father, Peneus, into a laurel tree, thereafter sacred to 
 Apollo. 
 
 662. Root-bound. Referring to ' you,' or, as readily, to 
 * Daphne.' 
 
 665. while. So long as. 
 
 670. returns. The word seems to involve the figure of 
 the sap returning in spring. 
 
 672. cordial julep. Cordial, heartening; julep, origin- 
 ally rose-water (Persian), later a more generic term for 
 a bright liquid. 
 
 675. Nepenthes. 'A drug to lull all pain and anger, 
 and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow.' Odys. 4, 221 
 (tr. Butcher and Lang). The wife of Thone was Poly- 
 damna; Helena was Helen of Troy, daughter of Zeus and 
 Leda. 
 
 685. unexempt condition. Condition from which no one 
 is exempt. ' Condition ': four syllables. 
 
 686. mortal frailty. More conventionally, ' frail mor- 
 tality/ 
 
 688. That. Refers to ' you,' 1. 682. 
 
 95 • ugly-headed. Masson reads * oughly/ following 
 the editions of 1645 an ^ 1673; but the MS. has * ougly.' 
 698. visored. Masked, disguised. 
 700. lickerish. Tempting to the taste. 
 702-3. Newton pointed out that Milton found his idea 
 
COM US. 245 
 
 in the Medea of Euripides : kclkov yb.p dvdpbs dQp' 6vqaiv ovk 
 €%«, ' the gifts of a base man profit nothing.' 
 
 707. The general meaning of the line is clear, but the 
 word ' budge ' provides an ambiguity. One meaning, 
 current in Milton's time, was ' fur ' (probably 4 lambskin '), 
 which was used in ornamentation of the scholastic hoods 
 and gowns; another meaning (not ascertained to be cur- 
 rent when Comus was written) was ' pompous.' The 
 tautology, if the first meaning is taken, is only apparent, 
 not real. 'Stoic fur': the kind of fur indicating the 
 school of Stoics; used figuratively, of course; the hoods 
 vary in color and trimmings according to the degree and 
 the university conferring it. 
 
 708. Cynic tub. The tub of Diogenes. Comus would 
 naturally hold in contempt the Stoics and Cynics. 
 
 714. curious. Careful, fastidious. 
 
 719. hutched. Hoarded, as in a hutch or chest. 
 
 721-2. Cf. Daniel i. 12. Comus can quote Scripture 
 for his purpose. 'Pulse,' pease, beans, etc.; ' frieze,' a 
 coarse woollen cloth, made originally in Friesland. 
 
 724. A compact construction. Although his riches 
 might be known but in part, yet they would be despised. 
 
 727. Perhaps a reminiscence of Hebrews xii. 8. 
 
 728. Who. Nature. 
 
 730. The MS. reading shows the scansion: 
 
 'Th' earth cumber'd & the wing'd aire dark't wth plumes ' 
 
 732-6 A somewhat difficult passage. ' They below ' 
 may mean 'men,' or 'creatures of the deep.' The MS. 
 (erased passage) gave : 
 
 1 the sea orefraught would heave her waters up 
 above the shoare, and th' unsought diamonds 
 would so bestudde the center wth thire starrelight ' 
 
 but this only makes the position of the diamonds more 
 perplexing. 
 
246 NOTES. 
 
 737. coy. Disdainful, rather than shy. 
 739-744. A most familiar idea in the poetry of Shakes- 
 peare's and Milton's times. 
 
 743. A check mark in the MS. may indicate that Milton 
 meant to revise this extra-syllabled line. It may be 
 scanned in two ways ; 
 
 If you I let slip | time like | a neglect | ed rose 
 If you let I slip time | like a | neglect | ed rose 
 
 744. It. Beauty. 
 
 745. brag. Boast. 
 
 750. grain. Color; originally scarlet. 
 
 751. tease. A technical, not a metaphorical, word here: 
 to card or comb. 
 
 huswife. Spelling parallel to ' husband/ 
 
 752. vermeil-tinctured. Vermilion, from vermzculus i a 
 little worm, the cochineal insect (coccum ; later granum, 
 from which 'grain,' 1. 750). 
 
 759. pranked. Bedecked. 
 
 760. bolt. Sift, as flour; so, to refine upon. 
 
 779-806. Not in MS. The lines contain the very essence 
 of Milton's doctrine of chastity, and were doubtless added 
 to make the teaching unmistakable. 
 
 791. fence. Art of fencing, said figuratively; or per- 
 haps, ' defence.' 
 
 her refers to rhetoric. 
 
 793. uncontrolled. Uncontrollable. 
 
 797. brute Earth. Warton noted Horace's brut a tellus. 
 Od. 1. xxxiv. 9. 
 
 her nerves. Her strength of tendon and sinew. 
 
 800-806. An aside; as perhaps also 1. 756-761. 
 
 801. set off. Enhanced, or set apart as if unanswerable. 
 
 802. though not. Though I am not. 
 
 803-5. A reference to wrathful Jove's use of thunder- 
 bolts in the war of the Titans, sons of Cronus (Saturn), 
 against the gods. The defeated Titans were fettered in 
 
COMUS. 247 
 
 Tartarus (the infernal regions), or, as Milton has it here, 
 Erebus (place of darkness). 
 
 807. mere. Absolute. 
 
 808. canon laws. Fundamental laws, as established 
 by highest ecclesiastical authority. ' Foundation/ as if 
 Comus and his rout were a solemnly founded institution, 
 carries out the figure. 
 
 809. Another irregular line. 
 
 Lees and settlings. A reference to the theory that 
 melancholy was one of the * humours ' of the blood, the 
 heaviest part, which, unless dispelled, settled like the 
 dregs (lees) of wine, and made the blood corrupt. 
 
 816. rod reversed. The old notion of undoing the 
 effects of magic by reversing the process whereby the 
 charm 'took/ A similar fancy is not unheard of now: 
 that saying a prayer backwards, after the manner of 
 witches, produces a curse instead of a blessing. 
 
 817. dissevering. Releasing. 
 
 822. Melibceus. A pastoral name, here referring either 
 to Geoffrey of Monmouth or (more probably) to Spenser, 
 both of whom told the story of Sabrina; the former in his 
 history of the Britons (twelfth century), the latter in 
 F. Q. II. x. 14-19. 
 
 823. soothest shepherd. Truest poet. This makes 
 the preceding line seem clearly a reference to Spenser. 
 It could be meant only ironically, if an allusion to 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 824. not far from hence. The Severn was not far to the 
 east of Ludlow. 
 
 825. curb. Power that curbs. 
 
 827. whilom. In former days. Locrine, son of Brutus, 
 married Guendolen, but also loved Estrildis, by whom he 
 had a daughter Sabra (Sabrina). When Locrine sought 
 to divorce Guendolen, she made war upon him, and he 
 fell in battle. Estrildis and Sabrina were flung into a 
 river, henceforth to be called Severn, after the innocent 
 
248 NOTES, 
 
 virgin. Milton does not tell the story here precisely as 
 he does in his History of Britain. 
 832. his. Its. 
 cross-flowing. Flowing across the path of her flight. 
 
 834. pearled. Water-nymphs might appropriately wear 
 bracelets of pearl; but there may be a special allusion to 
 the belief that pearls were to be found in the Severn. 
 
 835. Nereus was a sea-god and hardly belongs in fresh 
 water. 
 
 836. lank. Drooping. 
 
 838. nectared lavers. Baths, or vessels for washing, 
 into whose waters nectar or flowers had been dropped. 
 Verity suggests that ' nectared,' like ' ambrosial,' may be 
 used in the sense of fragrant. But cf, Lycidas 175. 
 
 asphodel. A flower that blossomed in the Elysian 
 fields; daffodil. 
 
 839. The outer doors of the senses; ears, eyes, etc. 
 
 845. Helping all urchin blasts. Helping to mitigate the 
 curses (blasts) of evil spirits. ' Urchin ' originally meant 
 a hedgehog. 
 
 852. old swain. Meliboeus. Spenser, however, does 
 not mention Sabrina's magic power. Milton may have 
 found it in Drayton's Polyolbion. 
 
 863. amber-dropping hair. Masson suggests yellow hair 
 with water-drops falling through it and looking like 
 amber. Milton may mean literally, however, hair that 
 dropped amber, as if the drops of water that fell from it 
 were changed to something precious. 
 
 865. silver lake. Perhaps the river Severn, or perhaps 
 used as a generic term for water. 
 
 867. The MS. direction in the margin is ' to be said,' in- 
 dicating that the passage is to be spoken, not sung. 
 
 868-880. Oceanus. The god of the stream of Ocean, 
 which flowed around the earth. Tethys was his wife. 
 Neptune was the ruler of the sea; Nereus a sea-god. The 
 * Carpathian wizard ' is Proteus, whose home was in the 
 
COMUS. 249 
 
 Carpathian sea, on Carpathos, an island between Crete 
 and Rhodes; he could assume whatever shape he chose 
 (our adjective is ' protean '); and being a sea-shepherd 
 needed a 'hook.' Triton, the sea-herald (whence his 
 ' winding shell '), was ' scaly/ because, like a merman, he 
 was half fish. Glaucus was a fisherman who became a sea- 
 god, and spoke prophecies. Leucothea, ' white goddess,' 
 was formerly Ino, wife of Athamas, who slew one of their 
 two sons. Ino leaped into the sea with the other son, 
 Melicertes, and both became sea-deities. This son, now 
 to be known as Palaemon, was a god of harbors. Thetis, 
 daughter of Nereus, was the mother of Achilles. The 
 Sirens were creatures who by the charm of their singing 
 lured mariners to destruction. Parthenope and Ligea 
 were Sirens; the former's tomb was at Naples, — ' dear,' 
 perhaps because Milton thought romantically of the city, 
 but the reason for the adjective is not obvious. Critics 
 have called attention to the classic source of many of 
 Milton's epithets in this passage. 
 
 894. turkis. Turquoise. 
 
 895. Some commentators (Bell, Trent) find a difficulty 
 here, in that turquoise and emerald were not to be found 
 in the Severn, as Milton knew. But it may be remarked 
 that after Milton has once ' located ' Sabrina's dwelling- 
 place, he is undisturbed by a desire to be true to locality; 
 Sabrina becomes a goddess of the water, and immedi- 
 ately the imagined riches of river and sea are at her 
 service. Cf. 1. 932-3. 
 
 913. of precious cure. ('Drops') of great value and 
 power to cure. 
 
 914. Thrice, The familiar mystic number. 
 
 921. Amphitrite. The wife of Neptune. For 'bower' 
 Cf. 1. 45, note, p. 227. 
 
 923. Anchises' line. The line is Anchises, ^Eneas, 
 Ascanius, Sylvius, Brutus, Locrine. 
 
 927. snowy hills. Of Wales. 
 
2$° NOTES. 
 
 934-7. These four lines have troubled the commentators. 
 After the first two lines of the invocation, however, 
 Milton is thinking of the river, rather than of Sabrina; 
 even the ■ tresses fair ' of 1. 929 may be regarded as the 
 foliage on the banks. The immediate difficulty is the 
 1 with ' in 1. 937: does it belong with * crowned ' (1. 934) ? 
 If so, the crowning of the ' lofty head ' with groves here 
 and there upon the banks, is a rather mixed idea. But it 
 would seem not too difficult to imagine a river crowned at 
 its head with tower and terrace, and crowned upon its 
 banks with groves. This gives a construction difficult to 
 parse, but easy to comprehend. 
 
 945. this gloomy covert. It is not necessary to suppose 
 (as do Masson and Verity) that the scene must have 
 changed, by this time, from the palace of Comus to the 
 surrounding forest; especially since Milton says nothing 
 of a change of scene. A single gesture of the Attendant 
 Spirit standing within the palace w r ould indicate clearly 
 where the ' gloomy covert ' was. So, too, one need not 
 leave the house to see the stars (1. 956). 
 
 950. his wished presence. Another compliment to the 
 Earl. 
 
 Stage Direction. Country Dancers. A country dance 
 was a contre danse, z. e. y one in which the partners stood 
 opposite (contra) each other, as in the Virginia reel. 
 
 960. without duck or nod. An indication that the dances 
 following would be more stately and graceful. 
 
 962. such court guise. In such courtly figures. 
 
 963. Mercury was not specifically a leader of the Dryad 
 dances, but as Osgood points out {Classical Mythology in 
 Milton's English Poems, p. 42), such devising is in accord 
 with classic descriptions. 
 
 964. mincing' Dryades. Dainty wood-nymphs. Mincing 
 has lost its prettier meaning, and represents now only the 
 finicky aspect of neatness. 
 
 965. lawns. Cf, L y All. 71, note, p. 204. Leas, meadows. 
 
COM US. 2$l 
 
 972. Assays. Trials. Essays is another form of the 
 word. 
 
 976. Everyone has noted a resemblance in these lines 
 to Ariel's song, Tempest V. i. 88. 
 
 982. Hesperus. The spirit of the evening star. Milton 
 makes the Hesperides the daughters of Hesperus. They 
 were beautiful, sweet-voiced maidens; in their garden 
 was the tree on which grew the golden apples. Cf. 1. 
 393, note, p. 236. 
 
 984. crisped. Curled; referring to the leaves ruffled by 
 the breeze. 
 
 985. spruce. Dainty. Derived from Prussia or Spruce. 
 
 986. rosy-bosomed hours. Gray used these words in his 
 Ode to Spring. 
 
 991. nard and cassia: Aromatic plants. 
 
 992. Iris. Cf. 1. 83, note, p. 229. 
 
 993. blow. Make to blow. 
 
 995. purfled. Embroidered at the edges. 
 
 999. Adonis. The youth loved by Venus. He was 
 killed by a wild boar. 
 
 1002. the Assyrian queen. The Phoenician Astarte, 
 here identified with Venus. In Nativ. 200-204, Ashtaroth 
 or Astarte is referred to in connection with Thammuz, 
 the Syrian Adonis. 
 
 1004. advanced. Because the love of Cupid and Psyche 
 was less earthly than that of Venus for Adonis. 
 
 1005. Psyche, beloved of Cupid, was persecuted by 
 Venus, who enjoined upon her many labors. The episode 
 of the oil dropped by the inquisitive Psyche upon Cupid's 
 cheek is one of the most familiar stories in mythology. 
 
 1007. Zeus, after a council of the gods, decreed that 
 Psyche should be restored to Cupid. 
 1009. side. Body. 
 
 1015. bowed welkin. The sky, curving to the horizon. 
 1017. corners. Horns. 
 1021. sphery chime. The music of the spheres. 
 
252 NOTES. 
 
 LYCIDAS. 1637. 
 
 Edward King, who was a student at Christ's College, 
 Cambridge, during part of Milton's career at the same 
 college, was drowned at sea, 10 August, 1637. The ship 
 on which he was going from England to Ireland, struck a 
 rock near the Welsh coast, and most of those on board 
 were lost. A memorial volume was prepared by the 
 friends of King, and in this book of Latin, Greek, and 
 English verse, Lycidas is the last and greatest poem. 
 
 1. once more. Milton had written little or nothing since 
 Comus (1634). 
 
 Laurel, myrtle, and ivy are plants more or less sacred 
 to poetry. In coming to pluck their berries, Milton enters 
 again the field of poetry. 
 
 2. brown. Has here the rneaning of ' dark,' as in 77 
 Pens. 134. 
 
 never sere. Evergreen. No antithesis is intended 
 between ' brown ' and ' never sere.' 
 
 5. before the mellowing year. As many editors point 
 out, this refers to the poet himself, not to King. Before 
 he was ready to write, the * bitter constraint ' compelled 
 him. 
 
 7. compels. The singular verb (with the plural subject) 
 is sometimes to be explained as a survival of a Northern 
 plural in -s ; sometimes as a logical expression, following 
 the collective notion of the plural subject; and sometimes 
 as a case of attraction, — the verb agreeing with the second 
 of two nouns. Cf. Ps. cxxxvt. 6, note, p. 178. 
 
 8-9. Milton employed effectively a similar repetition in 
 Fair Inf. i$-ib. 
 
 10. he knew, etc. King had written some Latin verse; 
 in Masson's opinion, of no great merit. The construction, 
 4 he knew to sing,' — is Latin and Greek, rather than Eng- 
 lish. The MS. has : * he well knew.' 
 
 11. rhyme. The spelling c rhyme/ originally incorrect, 
 
LYCIDAS. ^53 
 
 may perhaps be yielding to the true spelling ' rime/ Mil- 
 ton here uses the word in the sense of verse in general. 
 13. welter. To toss about, roll. 
 
 15. sisters of the sacred well. The Muses. The sacred 
 well was the Pierian spring at the foot of Mt. Olympus, 
 according to Masson; Aganippe on Mt. Helicon, according 
 to Jerram. Either place serves; for, as Masson notes, the 
 Muses' birthplace was the former, their later abode the 
 latter. 
 
 16. seat of Jove. Olympus, or the altar on Helicon, 
 according to the reference of the former line. 
 
 19. Muse. Used here in the sense of ' poet.' 
 
 20. lucky. Auspicious. 
 
 favour my destined urn. Sing such a lament for me 
 when I am dead. One thinks of the ' lucky words ' of 
 Wordsworth's sonnet on Milton. 
 
 23-36. In a prolonged figure, Milton tells of his associa- 
 tion with King. It is hardly necessary to find an actual 
 meaning under each figurative expression. Rather, Mil- 
 ton, having chosen to speak in a metaphor, of the pur- 
 suits of the young scholars, turns his thought to the meta- 
 phor itself, and intends but little specific symbolism by it. 
 
 25. lawns. Pasture lands. Cf. L'AIL 71, note, p. 204. 
 
 27. heard the gray-fly at the time that she winds, etc. 
 
 28. gray-fly. Sometimes called trumpet fly. 
 
 30. Milton first wrote • even-star ', and then erased it ; 
 perhaps because the evening star, as critics have noted, 
 does not rise. 
 
 32. The rural songs were heard ; or the rural songs that 
 we made were heard. 
 
 33. oaten. A word not infrequent in English verse, and 
 used as if a classic pastoral expression. But as Jerram 
 points out, ' the classical authority for such usage is more 
 than doubtful.' Avena, the Virgilian word that is 
 responsible for much of the English usage, is susceptible, 
 Jerram suggests, of a more generic translation than ' oat.' 
 
254 NOTZS. 
 
 But its meaning is clear : ' oaten flute ' is a rustic or pas- 
 toral pipe. The line seems to us to have a trochaic move- 
 ment, but Milton did not so intend it. He printed; ' Tem- 
 per'd to th' oaten flute '; which gives, of course, the iambic 
 movement. 
 
 34. Perhaps a reference, gently playful, to the under- 
 graduates ; perhaps not. 
 
 36. old Damcetas is unidentified. It would not be unin- 
 teresting to know what friend of Milton's was thus pleased 
 with the poet's early work ; for surely there seems to be 
 a personal meaning in this line. The name Damcetas is 
 found in Theocritus and in Virgil. 
 
 45. canker. Canker-worm, as in Mids. Night's Dream 
 II. ii. 3, as well as frequently elsewhere in Shakespeare. 
 
 46. taint-worm. Supposed to be a small, red spider, 
 called a ' tainct.' 
 
 52. the steep. Some mountain, not identified, in Wales. 
 
 54. Mona. Anglesey. 
 
 55. Deva. The Dee, which had the reputation of being 
 potent to affect the fortunes of England and Wales, 
 between which countries it flows. Hence ' wizard 
 stream.' Cf Vac. Ex. 98. 
 
 56. Ay me. Cf. Cent. Diet, ay, 2. 
 
 58. the muse. Calliope was the mother of Orpheus. 
 
 59. her enchanting son. Her son who performed 
 enchantments. For Orpheus cf. LAll. 145, note, p. 209. 
 
 61. the rout. The Thracian women, who, offended by 
 Orpheus after his return from Hades, tore him to pieces; 
 his head, thrown into the Hebrus, floated to the isle of 
 Lesbos. 
 
 64. Alas, what boots it, etc. Of what use is it to give 
 oneself up to poetry, which calls for such incessant care 
 and demands so much from its votaries ? 
 
 65. slighted. The word may go with ' shepherd,' imply- 
 ing that the poet is slighted by the world ; or with ' trade,' 
 implying that even the poets have slighted their work, — 
 
LYCIDAS. 255 
 
 as Milton himself had not. Milton had lofty notions of 
 what a poet should be. But preferably, it seems to mean 
 that Milton felt that in his day poetry itself was slighted. 
 
 66. meditate the muse is an un-English expression. In 
 Virgil (Eel. i. 2, and vi. 8), it meant to compose a poem. 
 Milton seems to give it a meaning of his own : a para- 
 phrase of the line might run : — ' And give oneself up to 
 the strict and thoughtful pursuit of poetry, which does not 
 reward its followers/ ' Thankless ' may mean, ' giving no 
 thanks,' or 'receiving no thanks'; poetry thanks no one 
 for devotion to it, or no one is thankful for it: the former 
 interpretation seems preferable. 
 
 67-9. Were it not better to give up poetry and live a life 
 of sheer pleasure? The idea that Milton is contrasting 
 stern poetry with the love poetry which he might have 
 written more easily, ' as others use ', is rather too 
 bookish,— especially in the light of 1. 72. Warton thought 
 that Milton had in mind certain Latin poems of Buchan- 
 an's, in which the names Amaryllis and Nesera were used 
 (Todd disposed of this by pointing out that ' Amaryllis* 
 there meant the city of Paris !). Verity inclines to think 
 that ' others ' were such contemporary poets as Herrick 
 and Suckling. There is no real reason to think that the 
 ' others ' are poets at all. 
 
 68. Amaryllis and Nesera are pastoral names, as Lycidas 
 is. 
 
 72. The noble mind that has conquered all other infirm- 
 ities may yet crave fame. Milton, I take it, does not say 
 this disparagingly, but philosophically : a mind superior 
 to everything that would be a temptation to weaker na- 
 tures, having only the one human weakness — the desire 
 to know that one's work has been accepted at its true 
 worth. 
 
 75. blind Fury. Strictly a Fate, not a Fury, if Atropos 
 is referred to, as seems most probable. ' The Fate malig- 
 nant as one of the Furies ' (Rolfe), 
 
256 NOTES. 
 
 76. slits. Cuts, not necessarily lengthwise ; an older 
 meaning. 
 
 But not the praise, etc. Though the life be cut short, 
 the true reward (rightful praise from Jove) will follow, 
 declares Phoebus, the god of poetry ; true fame is of 
 heaven, not of earth. 
 
 77. touched my trembling ears. Touching the ear, says 
 Conington (quoted by Jerram), was a symbolical act, the 
 ear being the seat of memory. Conington's remark 
 refers to Virgil, Eel. vi. 3. That which a god touched 
 may well have trembled. 
 
 79-80. There is difference of opinion as to the construc- 
 tion here. Does ' set off to the world ' modify Fame or 
 foil? The former gives the simpler interpretation, to 
 which the present editor inclines : Fame is not set off to 
 the world in the glistering foil, i. e., dazzling the eye with 
 tinsel. The other interpretation is : Fame does not lie in 
 the false show which is itself set off (displayed) to the 
 world. The student may puzzle out the difference. Each 
 reading has something for and against it. 
 
 81. by. ' By means of ' ; or perhaps, ' near.' 
 
 82. Jove. Milton here, and Gray frequently (as in the 
 Hymn to Adversity), to mention but two poets, use the 
 word ' Jove ' strangely. It does not mean ' God/ exactly ; 
 nor ' Zeus,' exactly. It is as if one meant a divine power 
 applied in a situation distinctly fanciful, where ' Zeus ' 
 would be too unreal, and ' God' would be too sacred. 
 
 83. lastly. Definitively. 
 
 84. in Heaven may go with ' fame ' or ' meed,' preferably 
 the latter. 
 
 85. Arethuse. Cf. Arcades 30, note, p. 221. 
 
 86. Mincius. A river near Mantua, Virgil's birthplace. 
 As Virgil sang of Mincius, so Theocritus sang of Arethusa. 
 Milton's apostrophe is to the sources of pastoral poetry.. 
 
 87. These words of Phoebus were of a higher mood than 
 pastoral poetry, to which the poet now returns. ' Mood ' 
 
LYCIDAS. 257 
 
 here is neither our word ' mood ' (state of feeling) nor is 
 it a technical use of the musical word (Cf. UAH. 136, 
 note, p. 208 ). It is a figurative use of the latter. 
 
 89. herald. Triton. 
 
 90. That came in Neptune's case or action to inquire 
 into the cause, as a judge might; or came to offer 
 Neptune's plea or apology. The first explanation seems 
 the better one. 
 
 95. The winds knew nothing of the loss of Lycidas, 
 because they were not present. The boat went down in 
 a calm. 
 
 96. Hippotades. ^Eolus, god of the winds. 
 
 99. Panope and her sisters were Nereids, or daughters 
 of Nereus, a god of the sea. 
 
 100. The ship was fatal and untrustworthy, built in an 
 ominous time, its rigging cursed by evil spirits (or, when 
 it was rigged, curses were uttered upon it). 
 
 103. Camus. The god of the river Cam, on which is 
 Cambridge. 
 
 105. figures dim. Either inwoven designs dim with age; 
 or tracings said to be seen (here all the commentators 
 follow Dunster) on sedge leaves that have begun to 
 wither; the marks being especially on the edge of the 
 leaves. 
 
 106. sanguine flower. Hyacinth. Cf. Fair Inf. 25, 
 note p. 1 80. The flower showed the Greek cu'cu (alas) on its 
 petals. ' inscribed with woe ' may modify flower, or sedge, 
 according to the meaning given to the preceding time. 
 
 107. pledge. Offspring. 
 
 109. St. Peter. Cf. Matt. iv. 18; Luke v. 3. 
 
 no. Cf. Matt. xvi. 19. The fixing of the number of 
 keys as two is ecclesiastical, not scriptural; and making 
 one gold and one iron is Miltonic. 
 
 in. This idea cannot be looked into very closely. The 
 reader may well stop with the thought of the appropriately 
 beautiful and stern metals. 
 
258 NOTES. 
 
 112. mitred. Wearing the bishop's head-dress. 
 
 113-131. This denunciation of the condition of the Eng- 
 lish church represents Milton the Puritan as clearly as do 
 any of his writings. 
 
 114. Enough. The usual reading is ' Enow.' In 1645 
 Milton printed * Anow,' and his MS. reads 'Anough.' It 
 seems not worth while to retain an archaic form which 
 has neither MS. nor the 1645 edition back of it. 
 
 118. the worthy bidden guest. It is not certain that 
 Milton had a specific class in mind. Keightley thinks 
 that ' the faithful minister of the Gospel, who was really 
 called by the Spirit/ is meant. But such a one is the" 
 1 faithful herdman ' of 1. 121. Perhaps the communicants 
 of the church are referred to. 
 
 119. Blind mouths. A bold and compact way of saying 
 * Blind to every thing but that which satisfies their 
 gluttony.' 
 
 122. sped. Cared fcr. 
 
 123. when they list. When they wish; not, when they 
 ought. 
 
 flashy. Not our modern use; but flash-like, probably, 
 in the sense of 'by fits and starts.' 
 
 124. scrannel. A word not satisfactorily accounted for; 
 probably l harsh,' ' squeaking.' 
 
 126. wind and the rank mist. Idle teachings and false 
 doctrines. 
 
 128. grim wolf. This, from Milton, can hardly mean 
 any thing else than the Roman Catholic Church, which 
 could not then, of course, proselyte very openly (' privy 
 paw '). 
 
 129. and nothing said. Because many of the clergy 
 were in sympathy with Rome. 
 
 130. two-handed engine. No passage in Milton, prob- 
 ably, has called forth more guesses than has this expres- 
 sion. Whether it means the two-handed ax used eight 
 years later to behead Archbishop Laud (Warton's amusing 
 
LYCIDAS. 259 
 
 speculation), or the two Houses of Parliament (Masson's 
 ingenious suggestion), or the sword of justice (Verity's 
 guess), or the ax that ' is laid unto the root of the tree' — 
 Matt. iii. 10 (Newton), or anything within these limits, the 
 student may determine, if he can. At any rate, Milton 
 meant that something emphatic would put a stop to the 
 corruption of the clergy; and his prophecy came true. 
 
 132. Alpheus. Cf. Arcades 30, note, p. 221. 
 
 133. Sicilian Muse. Pastoral poetry. 
 136. use. Haunt, or inhabit. 
 
 138. swart star. The dog-star. 
 sparely. Sparingly. 
 
 142. rathe. Early. The comparative is 'rather.' 
 
 143. crow-toe. Crow-foot. 
 
 146. well-attired. ' Having a handsome attire or head- 
 dress, z. e., flower' (Keightley). 
 
 151. laureate. Laurelled. 
 
 hearse. Not our meaning of funeral car, but prob- 
 ably an earlier use of the word, — a platform, or tomb, 
 hung with black and appropriately decorated, here with 
 laurel. A third meaning, ' bier/ is possible. 
 
 152. For, to ease the strain of our grief, let us imagine, 
 as we have been doing ( 4 so '), that the body of Lycidas is 
 really here — but alas, etc. ' Let our thoughts dally ' 
 refers, I take it, not to the future, but to that which has 
 just happened, namely, the ' false surmise.' 
 
 154-5. There is a logical difficulty here: shores and 
 seas wash away the body. But in this very compact 
 writing we may reach the sense without being thwarted 
 by a literal construction of the language. Milton had in 
 mind the shores and seas — the body hurled on some shore, 
 washed by some sea. Or it may be that he meant that 
 the body tossed between sea and shore. 
 
 158. monstrous world. World of monsters. 
 
 160. the fable of Bellerus. This means, according to the 
 editors, the fabled abode of Bellerus; presumably because 
 
260 NOTES, 
 
 it ought to mean that The ultimate sense is clear, but 
 the expression is puzzling. 
 
 Bellerus. Milton makes up the name and the person 
 (without attributes) from Bellerium, the Roman name for 
 Land's End. 
 
 161. The mount is St. Michael's Mount, (near Land's 
 End), guarded by the apparition of the Archangel himself, 
 who looks south to Spain. 
 
 162. This line was obscure until some one pointed out to 
 Todd that in two editions of Mercator's Atlas (1623 and 
 1636) Namancos and Bayona were to be found in Galicia 
 in Spain. Galicia is nearly due south of Land's End. 
 
 163. angel. St. Michael. 
 
 164. Dolphins saved Arion, the Greek bard, who was 
 thrown overboard by the sailors. The miracle, performed 
 because Arion's singing enchanted the dolphins, may 
 easily have been in Milton's mind as he thought of his 
 hapless poet-friend. 
 
 168. day star. The sun. 
 
 170. tricks. Arranges, adorns. 
 
 176. unexpressive. Inexpressible. 
 nuptial song. Cf. Rev. xix. 7. 
 
 184. In the large recompense. This is thy large recom- 
 pense. The word ' in ' is momentarily confusing; but we 
 say ' in recompense/ 
 
 186. uncouth. Perhaps in its early sense of 4 unknown.' 
 
 187. quills. Reeds. The line refers to the varying tone 
 of the poem, — now tender, now indignant. 
 
 189. Doric lay. Pastoral song or poetry, because such 
 poetry was written in the Doric dialect. Cf. y also, L'All. 
 136, note, p. 208. 
 
 190. The sun had lengthened the shadows of the hills. 
 
 192. twitched his mantle. Drew it about him. 
 
 193. This line, so often misquoted (by the persistent 
 substitution of ' fields ' for ' woods '), doubtless hints at 
 new plans of Milton's own; his purposed trip to Italy, or 
 
ARRIVED AT AGE OF TWENTY-THREE. 26 1 
 
 a determination to turn to other kinds of poetry. The 
 poems, Fair Infant, Marchioness of Winchester, Uni- 
 versity Carrier, not to speak of The Passion, had been 
 elegies of one sort or another. 
 
 TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 Date of composition not known. In the 1645 volume 
 it precedes the sonnet on his twenty-third birthday. 
 1. Cf. II Pens. 62, note, p. 211. 
 4. jolly. Beautiful and joyous. Cf. Diet. 
 
 propitious May. The nightingale comes in April. 
 
 6. First heard. If first heard. The superstition is re- 
 ferred to in the Chaucerian Cuckoo and Nightingale, 1. 47: 
 
 "I thoghte how lovers had a tokeninge, 
 And among them it was a comune tale, 
 That it were good to here the nightingale 
 Rather than the lewde cukkow singe." 
 
 (' Rather ' here means ' earlier.') 
 
 9. bird of hate. The cuckoo, as opposed to the nightin- 
 gale. 
 
 13. The Muse might appropriately call the nightingale 
 her mate because of its beautiful singing. 
 
 ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY- 
 THREE. 1631. 
 
 4. shew'th. Note the rhyme, indicating the old pro- 
 nunciation of 4 shew.' 
 
 5. Referring to his youthful appearance. 
 
 7. inward ripeness. Not that he predicates this of him- 
 self; but refers to the quality of inward ripeness, less in 
 himself, that indueth more timely-happy spirits. 
 
 8. timely-happy. Happy in their timeliness, *. e., happy 
 in that their development is in accordance with their time 
 of life. 
 
262 NOTES. 
 
 9. it. inward ripeness, or life. 
 
 10. or soon or slow. Either soon or slow. ' Or . . . or ' 
 for ' either . . . or ' is a Latinism. 
 
 13-14. These lines are more difficult than the commen- 
 tators indicate. Browne takes ' is ' to be in antithesis to 
 1 shall be ' (1. 10), and 4 all ' to mean ' all my life/ Keightley, 
 admitting the obscurity, suggests: 4 All depends upon my 
 employing it as feeling myself to be under the eyes of my 
 great Task-Master/ I suggest: ' All (any lot) is as ever in 
 my great Task-Master's eye — if I but have grace to use it so 
 (as if it were so); i. e., all lots in life are the same to God, 
 if I but do as He would.' 
 
 WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY. 
 1642. 
 
 This title (the date 1642 is crossed out) is in the Cam- 
 bridge MS. and replaces a crossed-out title: ' On his dore 
 when y e Citty expected an assault/ The assault was 
 expected after the battle of Edgehill(i642), when the King 
 advanced toward London. After the 13th of November the 
 danger was over. There is no means of knowing whether 
 or not the sonnet was actually placed upon the door; but 
 the weight of common sense would incline toward con- 
 sidering the original title a figure of speech. 
 
 1. colonel. Trisyllabic here. Cf. Diet. 
 
 3. This is the reading of 1645 and of the MS. The 1673 
 reading is: 
 
 1 If deed of honour did thee ever please.' 
 
 5. charms. Charms of magic. 
 
 10. Alexander the Great. Emathia was a part of 
 Macedon. The incident referred to was after the capture 
 of Thebes (b. c. 333). 
 
 13. sad Electra's poet. Euripides, — one of Milton's 
 favorite authors, * Sad ' modifies Electra. This incident, 
 
 
TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. 263 
 
 the singing of a chorus from the Electra, occurred after 
 the taking of Athens by Lysander (b. c. 404). The con- 
 querors were moved to spare part of the city. 
 
 TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. Probably 1644. 
 
 The title is that of the editors; Milton gave the sonnet 
 no title. The lady has not been identified. 
 
 2. Cf. Matt. vii. 13. * Green ' is Milton's own embellish- 
 ment. 
 
 4. hill of heavenly truth. Symbolical, not scriptural. 
 Keightley refers to Hesiod's hill of virtue. 
 
 5. Cf. Luke x. 42; Ruth i. 16. 
 
 10. Cf. Matt. xxv. 1-12. 
 
 11. Cf- Rom. v. 5. 
 
 TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. Probably 1644. Printed 
 in the 1645 volume. 
 
 Milton's nephew, Phillips, tells us that after the poet 
 was deserted by his first wife (Mary Powell) he ' made it 
 his chief diversion now and then of an evening to visit the 
 Lady Margaret Ley. This lady, being a woman of great 
 wit and ingenuity, had a particular honour for him, and 
 took much delight in his company, as likewise Captain 
 Hobson, her husband, a very accomplished gentleman ' 
 (quoted from Masson, Milton's Poetical Works i. 214). 
 
 1. that good Earl. James Ley, first Earl of Marl- 
 borough; Lord High Treasurer, 1624; President of the 
 Council, 1628. 
 
 5. that Parliament. The third of Charles I., which 
 was dissolved March, 1628-9. Its dissolution was 4 sad ' 
 enough to those who had constitutional liberty at heart. 
 It is not established that Marlborough's death, four days 
 later, was caused by grief at the situation, 
 
 6. dishonest, inglorious. 
 
7. Chaeronea. The battle in which Philip of 
 conquered the Athenians and Thebans, b. c. 338. 
 
 8. that old man eloquent. The Athenian orator, 
 Isocrates, who died soon after hearing the tidings of 
 defeat. Milton's Areopagitica derives its title from the 
 1 Areopagitic Discourse ' of Isocrates (Verity). 
 
 9. Though later born. Milton was twenty when the 
 Earl died. 
 
 ON THE DETRACTION, etc. Probably 1645. 
 
 In the 1673 edition this and the following sonnet appear 
 in the order here given. In the Cambridge MS., however, 
 the order is reversed. 
 
 I. Tetrachordon. Four-chorded. Milton gave this 
 name to that one of his treatises on divorce which dis- 
 cussed ' the four chief places in Scripture which treat of 
 marriage or nullities in marriage.' (1645.) 
 
 4. Numbering. Among those who read it. 
 
 5. stall-reader. One who stands at the book-stall and 
 reads (often reading a book through without purchasing 
 it). 
 
 7. Mile-End Green. Near Whitechapel, London. 
 
 8. Scotch names, since many of the Scotch Presby- 
 terians must have been opposed to his doctrine of divorce, 
 may have sounded especially uncouth to Milton in these 
 days. Gordon, according to Masson, was probably 
 George, Lord Gordon, an adherent of Montrose at this 
 time; and, according to the same authority, Colkitto, 
 Macdonnel, and Galasp (Gillespie) may have been names 
 of one person, Alexander Macdonald, son of Colkitto, son 
 of Gillespie, — Montrose's lieutenant-general. 
 
 10. our like mouths. Mouths like ours (Keightley). 
 
 II. Quintilian. The great Latin rhetorician (d. n8 
 A, P.) 
 
NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE. 265 
 
 12. like ours. Thy age hated not, as ours does hate, 
 etc. 
 
 Sir John Cheke. 15 14-15 5 7. The first Greek pro- 
 fessor in Cambridge; the tutor of Edward VI. Masson 
 refers to the fact that Cheke had been a member of a com- 
 mission which had proposed greater freedom in divorce 
 laws. 
 
 ON THE SAME. Probably 1645. 
 
 6. As Keightley points out, * it was at the goddess her- 
 self, not at her unborn progeny, that they railed.' Latona 
 was the mother of Apollo and Artemis, deities of the sun 
 and moon, respectively. The rustics who jeered at her 
 were changed into frogs. 
 
 8. Cf. Matt. vii. 6. 
 
 10. Cf. John viii. 32. 
 
 13. rove. Apart from the simpler meaning of ' miss ' 
 (' rove from '), the word ' rove ' has a technical meaning in 
 archery, ' to shoot at a mark while allowing for the wind.* 
 
 14. For. In spite of. The line refers to the civil war. 
 
 ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE 
 LONG PARLIAMENT. Probably 1646. 
 
 The Cambridge MS. in two places directs this to be 
 placed after the two sonnets on divorce. One of these 
 directions has been erased. In 1673 the poem appeared 
 apart from the sonnets. 
 
 In form this poem is a sonnet with six lines added. 
 The form was used by the Italians occasionally, and was 
 called Sonet to Codato ( 4 Tailed Sonnet,' as Masson trans- 
 lates it). Although not a sonnet, strictly speaking, accord- 
 ing to the English notion, it maybe grouped with Milton's 
 sonnets for three reasons : its subject, the fact that it was 
 a variant of the Italian sonnet form, and the fact that its 
 first fourteen lines would in rhyme-formula be accepted as 
 
266 NOTES. 
 
 a good sonnet in English. In this poem Milton denounces 
 those who, having suppressed episcopacy, are now guilty 
 of the very things that made the former system op- 
 pressive. 
 
 i. thrown off your Prelate Lord. Prelacy or episcopacy 
 was formally abolished in 1646. 
 
 2. renounced his Liturgy. The liturgy was prohibited 
 in 1644-5. 
 
 3. To be as corrupt as your predecessors, in holding 
 more than one office or position, in order to gain money 
 or influence. Because the prelate lord was thrown off, 
 plurality was ' widowed.' 
 
 5. for this. For the sake of this gain. 
 
 6. The episcopal hierarchy had given way only to be 
 followed by a hierarchy as bad, — that of the classis, or 
 Presbytery. * Classic ' has therefore only an ecclesiastical 
 meaning. 
 
 8. A. S. Adam Steuart, who published some strict 
 Presbyterian pamphlets, using his initials instead of his 
 name. (Samuel) Rutherford, a Scotch minister in the 
 Westminster Assembly, was also a writer of pamphlets. 
 
 12. Edwards. Thomas Edwards, who, in a treatise 
 called Gangrcena, denounced as a heretic, Milton, among 
 others. 
 
 What-d'ye-call. The guesses concerning this Scotch- 
 man (Milton is as bitter as Dr. Johnson toward the Scotch) 
 seem to hit rather frequently Gillespie of the first Tetra- 
 chordon sonnet. 
 
 14. Not only were these Presbyterians, in Milton's 
 opinion, worse than the Anglicans, they were worse than 
 even the Roman Catholics; the Westminster Assembly 
 was worse than the Council of Trent. ' Packing ' is a 
 term still in political and legal use: a convention or jury 
 may be packed. 
 
 16. Clip your phylacteries. Cf. Matthew xxiii. 5. Cut 
 down your pretensions, though leaving your ears. The 
 
TO MR. H. LA WES, ON HIS AIRS. 267 
 
 MS. first gave the line: 'Crop ye as close as marginal 
 
 P s eares.' P is Prynne, a pamphleteer who, among 
 
 other punishments, had had his ears cut off by Laud's 
 followers. The Pharisaic pride will be cut down, the ears 
 (unlike Prynne's) may be left. Possibly 'your ears' may 
 be the subject instead of object of ' baulk.' The fierceness 
 of the controversy shows herein, that Milton, an anti- 
 prelacy man, could thus so sneeringly refer to the injury 
 received by some one else in the cause of anti-prelacy, 
 when that some one else now opposed, as a Presbyterian, 
 the Independency that was so vital to Milton. 
 
 20. The line expresses, as Milton intended, a double 
 meaning. As a matter of etymology, and of opinion, 
 presbyter and priest were the same word and the same 
 thing, save only that the poet thought the seeming 
 improvement a greater abuse than the original. 
 
 TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS. 1646. 
 
 This sonnet first appeared prefixed to a volume called 
 Choice Psalms, put into Mustek for three Voices: composed 
 by Henry and William Lawes, Brothers, and Servants 
 to his Majestie: 1648. Lawes, who composed the music 
 of Comus, and acted the part of the Attendant Spirit, was 
 one of Milton's friends, so good a one, indeed, that in the 
 strenuous days of 1646, the Royalist Lawes and the 
 Puritan Milton could still exchange these fine courtesies. 
 Lawes's setting of songs was very pleasing to the poets, 
 for the composer seemed anxious, as the sonnet indicates, 
 to fit his music to the words, rather than to subordinate 
 the words to the music. Milton's comments on music 
 must be regarded as weightier than those of most poets. 
 
 4. King Midas, serving as judge in a musical contest 
 between Pan and Apollo, decided in favor of Pan. There- 
 upon Apollo changed his judge's uncritical ears into asses' 
 ears. 
 
268 NOTES. 
 
 Committing short and long. Matching short notes to 
 long sounds, and vice versa. 
 
 5. Again the double subject and singular?, verb. Cf. Ps. 
 cxiv. 6. and Lycidas 7. 
 
 11. story. Lawes had set to music the story of Ariadne, 
 by Cartwright. (Warton.) 
 
 12. Dante met in purgatory Casella the musician, who, 
 being entreated to sing a love-song, sang one of Dante's 
 own. Purg. II. 
 
 14. milder. Than those of hell. 
 
 ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHARINE 
 THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED 16 
 DECEMBER, 1646. 
 
 Nothing is known of the woman to whose memory this 
 sonnet is dedicated. The fact that in 1649 Milton ' lodged 
 at one Thomson's ' (Phillips) is a clue too slight to follow. 
 ' Scripture texts in Milton's mind in the Sonnet are Rom. 
 vii. 24, Rev. xiv. 13, Acts x. 4, Ps. xxxvi. 8, 9.' (Masson). 
 
 ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX AT THE SIEGE OF 
 COLCHESTER. 1648. First published posthumously, in 
 Phillips's Life, 1694. 
 
 Colchester was besieged in the summer of 1648, and this 
 dates the sonnet for us. Fairfax (1612-1671) did not 
 accomplish the greater things that Milton here points the 
 way to: his retirement to private life (1650) left the great 
 opportunity to Cromwell. But Milton continued in his 
 esteem for Fairfax, as a passage in the Defensio Secunda 
 (1654) shows. 
 
 5. virtue. In the Latin sense of bravery. Phillips 
 printed • valour/ 
 
 6. new rebellions. In this year (1648) the Royalists 
 made a fresh attempt to gain the upper hand. 
 
TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. 269 
 
 7. Hydra heads. It was one of the labors of Hercules, 
 to kill the Lernean hydra, a nine-headed dragon. As 
 soon as one her \ was cut off, two new ones grew in its 
 place. 
 
 false north. A Scottish expedition against the Parlia- 
 ment was made at this time to help the English Royalists. 
 
 8. broken league. The Solemn League and Covenant 
 (1643) was broken, according to Milton, by the Scots, who 
 held, for their part, that it had been broken by the 
 English. 
 
 imp. To repair a broken feather in the hawk's wing, 
 by piecing it out. 
 
 12-13. Milton felt that in the Parliament were those 
 who used their high station for personal ends. His 
 sympathies at this time were all for the Army as against 
 the Parliament. 
 
 TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY, 1652, ON 
 THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE 
 COMMITTEE FOR PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 
 First printed by Phillips in 1 694. 
 
 This sonnet is not so much an effort to characterize a 
 great man as it is an appeal to that great man at a specific 
 time. The situation that called forth the sonnet was this: 
 the Parliamentary Committee referred to in the title had 
 received from ' certain ministers ' proposals to continue 
 the church establishment through the public support of the 
 clergy. Cromwell was on this Committee, and of course 
 the most powerful of its members. To him, Milton, who 
 ardently desired the separation of church and state, 
 made this appeal, splendid and unheeded; for Cromwell, 
 Independent as he was, supported the Establishment. 
 
 2. detractions rude. Not those of his Royalist enemies, 
 but those of the Presbyterian party, to whom Cromwell's 
 Independency was most hateful. 
 
270 NOTES. 
 
 5. crowned. In this word some of the commentators 
 have seen an explicit reference to King Charles. The 
 Royalist cause is probably near enough to the meaning. 
 
 7. Darwen stream is in Lancashire, near Preston, where 
 in 1648 Cromwell defeated the Scottish invaders under 
 Hamilton. 
 
 8. Dunbar was the scene of Cromwell's defeat of the 
 Scottish army under Leslie in 1650. 
 
 9. Worcester, 165 1, saw the defeat of Charles, — Crom- 
 weirs ' crowning mercy/ 
 
 For ' Worcester's laureate wreath,' the MS. originally 
 read 'twenty battles more'; but this expression was 
 erased to give way to its better substitute. 
 
 12. secular chains. The state's possible control of 
 religion. 
 
 14. Milton did not believe in paying for the perform- 
 ance of religious duties. His ideal was probably the 
 voluntary ministration of a man who needed no support 
 beyond what he earned in other things. For a man to 
 accept large remuneration for spiritual services was 
 repugnant to one of Milton's stern, intense religious 
 feeling. 
 
 The last clause of the line gives its sense more readily 
 when inverted: 'whose maw is their gospel.' 
 
 TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. 1652. 
 
 First printed in 1662 in a Life of Sir Henry Vane by 
 George Sikes (Masson). Phillips also prints it. 
 
 The younger Vane (whose brief residence in America 
 adds to our interest in the sonnet) held views concerning 
 church and state that met with Milton's approval. The 
 tone of the sonnet is therefore more assured than is that 
 of the sonnet to Cromwell; this is approbation of some- 
 thing done, that is a plea for action. In both sonnets 
 is revealed the highest admiration of personal power. 
 
ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT. 27 I 
 
 3. gowns, not arms. Milton celebrates the power of 
 counsel, as in the previous sonnet he had praised military 
 prowess. 
 
 4. Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, twice invaded Italy in the 
 third century, b. c. It was towards the end of the same 
 century that Hannibal began his wars against Rome. 
 
 6. Warburton suggested that the * hollow states ' meant 
 Holland, the States General. 
 
 spelled. Explained. Cf. also // Pens. 170, note, p. 217. 
 
 11. which few have done. Milton may have be^n doubt- 
 ful as to whether Cromwell could be counted among the 
 few. 
 
 12. either sword. The sword of the state and the sword 
 of the church, their proper power. 
 
 ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT. 1655. 
 
 As Latin Secretary, Milton had drafted Cromwell's 
 indignant and effective protest against the atrocities which 
 the Vaudois were being made to endure. The Duke of 
 Savoy had ordered these Protestants to become Roman 
 Catholics, or leave their homes — themselves exiles, their 
 property confiscated. They resisted, and an army was 
 sent against them to kill and plunder. This religious 
 butchery aroused the deepest indignation in England. 
 Milton's sonnet is the expression of a feeling too intense 
 to find relief even in penning Cromwell's peremptory 
 message to the Duke. 
 
 3. who kept thy faith so pure of old. The Vaudois, or 
 Waldenses, originated as a sect long before the Reforma- 
 tion. They were the followers of Peter Waldo (hence 
 Waldenses) of Lyons, but they had been forced out of 
 Southern France and had established themselves in the 
 Canton Vaud (hence Vaudois). It was thought by many 
 that their form of Christianity was derived unbroken from 
 the Apostles. In the next line Milton refers to this belief. 
 
272 NOTES. 
 
 12. The triple Tyrant. The Pope; triple referring to 
 his triple crown, or tiara. 
 
 14. the Babylonian woe. The Roman Church: so the 
 Puritans interpreted Revelations (xvii., xviii.). - 
 
 ON HIS BLINDNESS. 
 
 Date uncertain, but after 1652, of course. It followed 
 the Piemont sonnet (1655) in the edition of 1673. 
 
 2. ere half my days. Milton was at least forty-three (at 
 which age his blindness became complete) when these 
 words were written; more than half of the scriptural three 
 score and ten years had therefore passed. It is easily 
 possible that he was thinking of his mature days, not 
 counting in his reckoning the years of childhood. 
 
 3. one talent. Cf. Matt. xv. 14-30. 
 
 7. Cf. John xi. 1-4. 
 
 8. fondly. Foolishly. Cf. II Penseroso 6, note, p. 209; 
 Lye id as 56. 
 
 12. thousands. Of angels. Spenser's Hymn to Heav- 
 enly Love (66-68) speaks of angels ready 
 
 * Either with nimble wings to cut the skies 
 When he them on his messages doth send, 
 Or on his own dear presence to attend.' 
 
 TO MR. LAWRENCE. Probably near 1655. 
 
 The date is uncertain; in the edition of 1673 the sonnet 
 follows the one On His Blindness. Masson quotes Phillips 
 to the effect that when Milton lived in Westminster (1652- 
 1660), among his friends was * Young Lawrence (the son of 
 him that was President of Oliver's Council), to whom there 
 is a Sonnet among the rest in his printed Poems.' This 
 leaves us in doubt as to which of Henry Lawrence's sons 
 is meant, — Edward, who died in 1657, set. 24, or Henry, 
 the younger brother, who outlived the poet. The com- 
 mentators who feel that the cheerful tone of the sonnet 
 
TO CYRIACK SKINNER. 273 
 
 indicates a date previous to Milton's blindness are basing 
 their conclusions upon a too rigid theory. Must we sup- 
 pose that after he became blind Milton never had a cheer- 
 ful moment ? The sonnet gives us a very pleasant 
 glimpse of the mature man's friendship with the young 
 man who won this immortality of praise. 
 
 1. of virtuous father. A prominent Parliament man, 
 who in 1654 was made President of the Council of State. 
 Later, in 1657, he became a member of the House of Lords. 
 The turn of expression undoubtedly follows Horace's 
 O matre pulchra filia pulchrior. 
 
 4-5. Gaining from the hard season what may be won. 
 
 .6. Favonius. Another name for Zephyrus, the west 
 wind. 
 
 8. Cf, Matt. vi. 28. 
 
 10. Attic. Here a synonym of ' refined,' 4 delicate.' 
 
 12. Tuscan air. Verity reminds us that Milton while in 
 Italy ' purchased a quantity of Italian music and shipped 
 it home from Venice.' Cf. Masson's Life I. 831. 
 
 13-14. spare to interpose them oft. Refrain from too 
 frequent indulgence in these pleasures. Note the value 
 of 'interpose': delights placed in between weightier 
 things, as if of purely secondary importance. 
 
 TO CYRIACK SKINNER. 
 
 Date uncertain. The reference to the Swede and the 
 French is of no service in fixing the time, for they ■ in- 
 tended ' things after as well as before the Peace of West- 
 phalia in 1648. Cyriack Skinner was a frequent visitor at 
 Milton's house, we are told by Phillips; a man older than 
 Lawrence of the preceding sonnet, and seemingly one of 
 more solid achievement and intellectual maturity. Law- 
 rence one fancies to have been a man of artistic tastes, 
 Skinner a vigorous thinker. The two sonnets differ deli- 
 cately in tone; the slight note of warning in the first — not 
 
274 NOTES. 
 
 too frequently to interpose delights — becomes in the 
 second a gentle remonstrance against too strenuous work. 
 i. grandsire. Sir Edward Coke (i 552-1634), the famous 
 jurist, member of Parliament, and opponent of the Stuarts, 
 was the maternal grandfather of Cyriack Skinner. 
 
 2. Themis, usually accounted to be the goddess of law, 
 is also referred to by Milton (P. L. xi. 14) as presiding 
 over the oracle at Delphi. ' British Themis ' may there- 
 fore be a figurative expression, not for British law, but 
 for the British oracle, or court of final appeal. 
 
 3. his volumes. Among them, the ' Reports,' and ' In- 
 stitutes.' 
 
 7. Indicating obviously the nature of Skinner's studies. 
 
 8. intends. The 1673 reading, followed by Masson, is 
 1 intend.' ' Intends,' the more usual reading, has the 
 authority of the MS. (amanuensis hand). 
 
 The line has a Horatian reminiscence in it (Od. II. ii.). 
 12. that care . . . show. The kind of care that seems 
 wise. 
 
 14. refrains from enjoying it. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 1655, in all probability. 
 
 I. this three year's day. 1652 is the year during which 
 Milton became completely blind. 
 
 though clear, etc. In the Defensie Secunda (1654) 
 Milton had previously spoken of the same thing: though 
 blind, his eyes were not changed in appearance. 
 
 10. conscience. Consciousness. Milton does not use the 
 word ' consciousness ' in his verse; nor does Shakespeare. 
 
 II. In Liberty's defence. The Defensio pro Populo 
 Anglicano was written in full knowledge that persistent 
 application to his task' would bring to the writer more 
 speedily the blindness that was perhaps inevitable; but 
 Milton did not falter in what he conceived to be his duty. 
 
 12. talks. The usual (and unwarranted) reading is 
 
THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. 275 
 
 * rings,' — a change made by Phillips, although the MS. 
 (amanuensis) gives ' talks. ' Phillips has been followed 
 by a long line of editors (among them: Todd, Brydges, 
 Mitford, Keightley, Masson — with a qualm of conscience, 
 Browne, Rolfe). It is a pleasure to help to restore the 
 true reading. ' Talks ' is a word in better taste and gives 
 the line a dignity and reserve strength that are very 
 grateful as a substitute for the picturesque self-praise of 
 the line as usually printed and quoted. The first line of 
 the sonnet to Fairfax, frequently quoted in connection 
 with the line in question, does not affect the matter, 
 although it may possibly have been in Phillips' ears when 
 he made his unauthorized alteration. Verity has ' talks.' 
 13. vain mask. Cf. Ps. xxxix. 6. Mask as in ' Comus, 
 a Mask ' ; here used figuratively for the ' vain shew ' of the 
 world. 
 
 ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. 
 
 Catharine Woodcock, Milton's second wife, died in 
 February, 1657-8. The sonnet then belongs without much 
 question in the year 1658. The fact that Milton never 
 saw his wife makes peculiarly poignant those images that 
 express his vision of her. 
 
 2. Alcestis, the wife of King Admetus, was brought back 
 from death by Hercules, 'Jove's great son.' The story is 
 the subject of one of the most beautiful of Greek trage- 
 dies, the Alcestis of Euripides. Browning's Balaustion's 
 Adventure contains a spirited translation of the tragedy. 
 
 6. Cf. Leviticus xii. 
 
 THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. 
 
 Date uncertain; probably after 1645, as it does not appear 
 in the 1645 edition. Printed in the 1673 edition, immedi- 
 ately after the Sonnets. The Latin original was also 
 printed, as if Milton felt very sure that his translation 
 
276 NOTES. 
 
 was good, — as it is. The word ' English'd ' occurs in the 
 table of contents; the rest of the title in the body of the 
 book is as here given. The words l according to the 
 Latin measure ' cannot be taken literally, even in con- 
 nection with the qualifying clause that follows them. 
 
 SAMSON AGONISTES. 
 
 Samson Agonistes was published, in the same volume 
 with Paradise Regained, in 1671. The exact date of its 
 composition is not known; but without much doubt it was 
 after 1667 (the date of publication of Paradise Lost). In 
 July, 1670, the poem was licensed to be printed. 
 
 Nearly thirty years before, Milton had thought of the 
 story of Samson as a possible subject for dramatic treat- 
 ment. The Cambridge MS. contains a long list of titles 
 (drawn up probably about 1641-2), among which appear, — 
 ' Samson pursophorus* or Hybristes, or Samson marriing 
 or in Ramath Lechi Jud. 15 '; and on the next line, — 
 1 Dagonalia. Jud. 16. ' Masson takes these to be two sub- 
 jects; Verity suggests either four or five. The MS. shows 
 that * Samson in Ramath Lechi ' and * Dagonalia ' were 
 the original entries; the words ' marriing or ' were then 
 inserted: and then, either as two titles or as one, l Samson 
 pursophorus or Hybristes ' (violent). Many other scrip- 
 tural subjects, suited to dramatic treatment, were also 
 noted by Milton at this time, but when the opportunity 
 came it is easy to see why he chose as his tragic subject 
 the blind Samson struggling against his persecutors. 
 ' Agonistes ' means an athlete or wrestler who strives for 
 
 ♦Verity's supposition that this word may be purgophorus is un- 
 tenable. The fourth letter looks a little like a careless modern g, 
 but is exactly like Milton's s, and not at all like Milton's^-, letters 
 that appear frequently on the same page. 4 Purgophorus ' would 
 mean k tower-bearing,' and ' would refer to Samson's carrying away 
 the gates of Gaza.' But Milton would not call a gate a tower. 
 4 Pursophorus ' means a ' fire-brand bringer,' a clear reference to 
 Judges xv. 4-5. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 277 
 
 victory, — a reference to Samson's share in the games at 
 the Philistine feast (Dagonalia). 
 
 The original title-page bears (both in Greek and Latin), 
 a few words from Aristotle's famous definition of tragedy: 
 1 the imitation of a serious action .... through pity and 
 fear purging the mind of those and such like emotions' (to 
 give Milton's interpretation of the much controverted 
 sentence). Cf. note to Preface, 1. 4, p. 280. 
 
 Two things are necessary in preparation for the study 
 of this drama: thorough familiarity with the scriptural 
 narrative {Judges xiii.-xvi.), and some knowledge of the 
 construction of a Greek tragedy. This knowledge may be 
 best attained by reading parts of Aristotle's Poetics (Chap- 
 ters VI. -XVIII.), Professor Butcher's Aristotle's Theory 
 of Poetry and Fine Art (Chapters II., and VI. -IX.) ; 
 and several Greek plays, — ^schylus' Prometheus Bounds 
 Sophocles' Antigone and GLdipus Coloneus, Euripides' 
 Alcestis, for example. Barnett's Printer of Greek Drama 
 is of service. Briefly, it may be noted that a Greek 
 tragedy involves a chorus, before whom the action takes 
 place, and who join in the action. The presence of the 
 chorus limits in the following ways the treatment of the 
 subject: only such things may be uttered as the chorus 
 may hear; only so much may be presented as would be 
 consistent with the continued presence of the chorus. 
 This means that the prolonged development of a story is 
 impossible, for it is out of the question to imagine the 
 chorus remaining in one place, before one's eyes, for more 
 than a few hours; and this, therefore, means that only the 
 culmination of the action may be presented. And this 
 culmination, too, must be treated with reference to the 
 presence of the chorus; that is, if the chorus be friendly to 
 the hero, for instance, no intriguing against him can go 
 on, for the chorus, naturally, would defeat the intrigue. 
 (It should be added, that the Greek drama permits a 
 speech or dialogue before the chorus enters, That which 
 
278 NOTES. 
 
 precedes the entry of the chorus is called the prologue.) 
 To illustrate the main point: Samson Agonistes would be 
 a very different drama if the chorus were Philistines 
 instead of Hebrews. The outcome would be the same, 
 but the course of the play would depend upon the presence 
 of the hostile element. Naturally the dramatist will 
 choose for his chorus those persons in whose presence the 
 hero may most completely reveal his characteristics; and 
 as a rule friends, rather than enemies, will meet this need. 
 Instead of dramatizing, then, such events in the entire 
 story of Samson as seemed to the poet most significant, — 
 and this would have been Shakespeare's way, — Milton 
 takes the culmination of the story, provides a chorus 
 friendly to Samson, and presents in brief action only that 
 aspect of the crisis which the chorus might reasonably see. 
 This chorus, it should be noted, has a real share in the 
 plot: its odes spring from the immediate occasion and are 
 not perfunctory, or unrelated to the situation, as they 
 sometimes are even in Greek tragedy. 
 
 It may be added, that it is the presence of the chorus, 
 rather than any well-defined aesthetic theories, that 
 determines the form of Greek tragedy. The French 
 classic dramatists adopted certain points in Greek tragedy, 
 without having specific need for them, and then sought to 
 find for them fundamental aesthetic principles. The classic 
 French theory of dramatic art is therefore partly invalid. 
 The English romantic drama, whose form grew out of 
 actual needs, is a more natural form of art. English 
 imitations of classical drama may have much literary 
 interest, but as drama they have no real place. Samson 
 Agonistes is a splendid dramatic poem, possessing intense 
 literary interest, but, as perhaps none knew better than 
 Milton, it is not an English play. For other poetic dramas 
 of the Greek type, in English, the student may be re- 
 ferred to Matthew Arnold's Merope, and Swinburne's 
 Atalanta in Calydon, 
 
MILTON'S PREFACE. 279 
 
 The source of the drama is, of course, the Biblical nar- 
 rative. Slight debts to Josephus, and to Sandys's Travels 
 (161 5) are pointed out by Verity. The fact that the 
 Dutch poet, Vondel, had written a drama, Samson (pub- 
 lished 1660), is no evidencethat Milton was influenced by 
 it. Milton may have read it, in any event doubtless knew 
 of it ; but inasmuch as years before, he had contemplated 
 a classic drama on this very subject, he could not have 
 been indebted to Vondel for the conception of the drama. 
 His indebtedness, if it exists, must be therefore a matter 
 of construction and of detail. It would do no harm to 
 Milton's fame if it could be shown that Milton drew from 
 the Dutch poet as directly as Shakespeare drew from his 
 sources; but this, it seems, cannot be fully established. 
 Such internal similarities as exist are as easily explicable 
 by accident as by purpose. In brief, then, two writers 
 have used the same subject, each to the best of his 
 ability; the younger may have gained something from 
 the older, or may have gained nothing, and in either case 
 remains independent. No one, surely, can believe that 
 Milton stole the product of another man's brain, conceal- 
 ing the theft. If we should some day discover a letter of 
 Milton's saying, ' I planned Paradise Lost and Samson 
 Agonistes upon the Lucifer and Samson of Vondel,' we 
 should merely be in possession of an extremely interesting 
 piece of information which would not affect the intrinsic 
 quality of Milton's poems nor impair our faith in his 
 essential originality. 
 
 MILTON'S PREFACE. 
 
 1. anciently. Among the Greeks and Romans. 
 
 2. of all other. A classic construction, which does not 
 appeal to our ears as logical. 
 
 3. said by Aristotle, Poetics vi. 2. 
 
280 NOTES. 
 
 4. pity and fear. hC 'e\&)u kclI <pbfiov irepaivovaa ttjv twi 
 tocoijtojv 7radr}[idTU)i> Kadapaiv : literally, ' by pity and fear, 
 effecting the purging of these passions/ The difficult 
 point is whether Aristotle meant precisely that the mind 
 should be purged of (rid of) such passions, — the mind be- 
 ing thereby purified ; or that the mind should be purified 
 by means of these passions. Milton, as his translation 
 shows, accepts the former interpretation, without re- 
 garding the ' purging ' as complete. The fuller defini- 
 tion, in Butcher's translation, runs : 'Tragedy is an imita- 
 tion of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain 
 magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of 
 artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separ- 
 ate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narra- 
 tive; through pity and fear effecting the proper purga- 
 tion of these emotions.' Cf. Butcher's Aristotle's Theory 
 of Poetry and Fine Art, Chap. II. and VI. 
 
 9. for so, in physic. The homoeopathic principle, similia 
 similibus curantur, afterwards elaborated by Hahnemann 
 (1755-1843). 
 
 melancholic hue and quality. Melancholy is, literally, 
 * black bile.' 
 
 15. verse of Euripides. ' Evil communications corrupt 
 good manners.' Sometimes assigned to Menander. 
 
 16. Paraeus. A German Calvinist theologian (1548-1622). 
 21. Dionysius. B. C. ca. 430--367. Tyrant of Syracuse. 
 
 A tragedy of his obtained a prize at the Lenaea (the winter 
 festival at Athens). 
 
 23. Augustus Caesar. B. C. 63-A. D. 14. The first 
 Roman emperor, who declared (according to Suetonius) 
 that his tragedy of Ajax had committed suicide by falling 
 on a sponge. 
 
 25. Seneca. Died A. D. 65. The tutor of Nero, and 
 usually credited with the authorship of ten dramas now 
 extant. The influence of Senecan tragedy was very great 
 in France, and less great, though marked, in England. 
 
MILTON'S PREFACE. 281 
 
 27. Gregory Nazianzen. Bishop of Constantinople in 
 the fourth century. It is not certain that Gregory wrote 
 the Christus Pattens, but whether written by Gregory or 
 Apollinarius the elder, or in the twelfth century, the play, 
 which is based on Euripides, seems to have been regarded 
 as the earliest Christian drama. 
 
 32. at this day. The drama of the Restoration exempli- 
 fied all that Milton held in peculiar detestation. Its low 
 tone (both moral and literary) might readily enough have 
 made Milton feel that all drama suffered from the reputa- 
 tion of the contemporary stage ; and that an apology was 
 in place for a Puritan who should write even a scriptural 
 tragedy. 
 
 33. interludes. An interlude proper is a kind of drama 
 that was in vogue before comedy arose in England. It 
 has comparatively little plot, but deals with real persons. 
 Its name indicates that it was performed as a part of an 
 entertainment. The Four PP is a well-known interlude. 
 But the word acquired a broader use, and Milton uses it 
 here in the sense, presumably, of a comic play. 
 
 34. the poet's error. As a rule, the Greeks kept their 
 tragedy consistently tragic, and did not introduce comic 
 scenes, or even speeches, into serious plays. Sir Philip 
 Sidney objected to the Elizabethan 'mongrel tragi-comedy.' 
 Into this 'poet's error' Shakespeare constantly fell, much 
 to the delight of most of us. Milton must be held to 
 include Shakespeare in his condemnation, — a fairly good 
 proof of Milton's austerity and lack of humor. 
 
 38. no prologue. That is, in the sense of a prologue 
 detached from the play. Greek drama used a prologue, 
 which was, however, only the technical name of the first 
 speech or speeches delivered before the chorus entered : 
 the speeches were really part of the play. Latin comedy 
 made use of the prologue, in Milton's sense. 
 
 40. Martial. A. D. 43-104. A Latin writer of epigrams, 
 who prefixed * epistles to his readers ' to his books of 
 
252 NOTES. 
 
 epigrams. Milton has his scholarly apology even for using 
 a preface. 
 
 45. still in use. The Renaissance made Italy acquainted 
 with the classic forms, and the chorus was used in a 
 number of dramas of the sixteenth century, a tendency no 
 doubt encouraged by the revival of classical plays. Verity 
 and Percival note a scriptural drama (with chorus), Adamo, 
 written by Giovanni Andreini, a contemporary of Milton. 
 
 49. Monostrophic, etc. Milton enters here into a met- 
 rical explanation, — scholarly, as usual. The odes of the 
 Greek chorus contained three divisions : the strophe, as 
 the chorus moved from right to left in the orchestra ; the 
 antistrophe, as they turned back ; the epode, as they stood 
 still, after the return. Inasmuch as this division depended 
 on the music to be sung, and as the present chorus is not 
 to sing, Milton disregards the triple construction, and 
 writes his odes in but one general strophe or stanza 
 (' monostrophic'); but as this single strophe is not regular, 
 he will call it ' apolelymenon ' (freed from restraints); or, 
 since some of these odes may be subdivided into irregular 
 4 stanzas or pauses/ ' alloeostropha ' (irregular strophes) 
 may serve as a name for this form of the choral odes. 
 
 58. It suffices. Horace, Ars Poetica 189, places five acts 
 as the limit. A serious play seems to involve five stages 
 of development (the introduction, the rising action, the 
 climax, the falling action, the catastrophe), each of which 
 may, appropriately enough, fill an act ; but Shakespeare, 
 for example, although adhering to the five-act scheme, 
 does not make his separate acts correspond to this develop- 
 ment. Freytag's Technique of the Drama elucidates many 
 difficult points in dramatic construction. 
 
 59. uniformity. Verity suggests Aristotle's requirement 
 of consistency in character portrayal {Poet. xv. 4) ; but in 
 view of what Milton has just said against mixing serious 
 and comic elements, I think that * uniformity' must refer 
 to tone, — a keeping in the same key throughout. 
 
MILTON'S PREFACE. 283 
 
 60. intricate or explicit. Complex or simple : Aristotle's 
 division of plots {Poet, x.) An intricate plot is one which 
 the ' change of fortune ' is brought about by the recoil of 
 the action {irepurtTeia) or by recognition, or by both. The 
 recoil is denned as ' a change by which a train of action 
 produces the opposite of the effect intended ' ; recognition 
 is ' a change from ignorance to knowledge, producing 
 love or hate between the persons destined by the poet for 
 good or bad fortune.' (Butcher, tr.) The turn, or recoil, 
 in the plot of Samson Agonistes may be placed in the 
 speech (1381-1389) in which Samson unexpectedly an- 
 nounces his determination to go with the messenger. In- 
 asmuch as this resolve is not the thing to which the 
 previous action has seemed to tend; and inasmuch as 
 this resolve helps to bring about the change of fortune, 
 (Samson's death in triumph following his life in chains), 
 we may count the plot ' intricate.' 
 
 63. decorum. Not decorousness, in the sense of good 
 manners, but stage decorum; that which fitted the needs 
 of this form of art. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 The argument, or brief synopsis, of the drama, is pre- 
 fixed to Samson Agonistes after the manner of the Greek 
 plays as they have come down to us. These arguments 
 were written by grammarians (some of whom are known 
 to us) of widely separated times. Some of the arguments 
 were written a century or two before the Christian era, 
 others in the Middle Ages. Note the compactness of ex- 
 pression, wherein Milton is following the classical lead. 
 
 The action of the drama is based on the incidents nar- 
 rated in ten verses of the scriptural account {Judges xvi. 
 21-30). For convenience of reference, the passage is here 
 given: 
 
 21. But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, 
 
284 NOTES. 
 
 and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fet- 
 ters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house. 
 
 22. Howbeit the hair of his head began to grow again 
 after he was shaven. 
 
 23. Then the lords of the Philistines gathered them 
 together for to offer a great sacrifice unto Dagon their 
 god, and to rejoice: for they said, Our god hath delivered 
 Samson our enemy into our hand. 
 
 24. And when the people saw him, they praised their 
 god; for they said, Our god hath delivered into our hands 
 our enemy, and the destroyer of our country, which slew 
 many of us. 
 
 25. And it came to pass, when their hearts were merry, 
 that they said, Call for Samson, that he may make us 
 sport. And they called for Samson out of the prison 
 house; and he made them sport: and they set him between 
 the pillars. 
 
 26. And Samson said unto the lad that held him by the 
 hand, Suffer me that I may feel the pillars whereupon the 
 house standeth, that I may lean upon them. 
 
 27. Now the house was full of men and women; and all 
 the lords of the Philistines were there; and there were 
 upon the roof about three thousand men and women, that 
 beheld while Samson made sport. 
 
 28. And Samson called unto the Lord, and said, O Lord 
 God, remember me, I pray thee, only this once, O God, 
 that I may be at once avenged of the Philistines for my 
 two eyes. 
 
 29. And Samson took hold of the two middle pillars 
 upon which the house stood, and on which it was borne up, 
 of the one with his right hand, and of the other with his left. 
 
 30. And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines. 
 And he bowed himself with all his might; and the house 
 fell upon the lords, and upon all the people that were 
 therein. So the dead which he slew at his death were 
 more than they which he slew in his life. 
 
SAMSON- AG0N1STES. 285 
 
 13. which yet more troubles him. In addition to his 
 sorrow over his condition, he must suffer the ignominy of 
 having his enemies exult over him; and this meant the 
 triumph of the god of the Philistines. 
 
 28. and by accident to himself. But v. 30 (Judges xvi.): 
 4 And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines.' 
 
 THE PERSONS. 
 
 Manoa. So in the original edition; the usual spelling, 
 ' Manoah,' more accurately represents the Hebrew. The 
 word is printed eight times in the 1671 edition, and is 
 spelled * Manoah ' only once. 
 
 Dalila. In pronunciation Milton follows the cadence of 
 the Hebrew (Dalida); hence throughout the play ZW-ila, 
 not Da-//-la. 
 
 Danites. Descendants of Dan. Manoa was a Danite 
 (Judges xiii. 2). 
 
 THE DRAMA. 
 
 The opening situation, — the blind Samson led in by a 
 guide, — resembles, as has been pointed out by Newton 
 and by Richardson, the opening scene of the CEdipus Co- 
 lonneus of Sophocles (where the blind CEdipus is led in by 
 Antigone), and the situation in the Phcenissce of Euripides, 
 where the blind Tiresias says to his daughter, ' Lead on a 
 little, daughter, be an eye for my dark step ' (v. 834). 
 
 2. these. My. 
 
 4. There I am wont to sit. Of more personal interest 
 than any resemblance of situation or diction to Sophocles 
 or Euripides is the resemblance to Milton's own habit of 
 his later years. Masson quotes from Jonathan Richardson 
 (1734): ' I have heard many years since, that he used to 
 sit in a grey coarse cloth coat at the door of his house 
 near Bunhill Fields, without Moorgate, in warm sunny 
 weather, to enjoy the fresh air, and so, as well as in his 
 
2 36 NOTES. 
 
 room, received the visits of people of distinguished parts 
 as well as quality.' 
 
 5. task of servile toil. ' And he did grind in the prison 
 house.' Judges xvi. 21. Cf. 1. 35. 
 
 6. The scansion of this line assumes an elision in ' daily 
 in.' 
 
 8. imprisoned also. Landor (in Imaginary Conversa- 
 tions, Southey and Landor, II.) has objected to this fancy, 
 as a mere * prettiness.' In regard to this and many other 
 * pathetic fallacies,' it may be said that under powerful 
 emotion inanimate objects may be spoken of in terms that 
 might be mere ' conceits ' were they uttered in cold blood. 
 Thus Samson, feeling intensely his confinement, thinks of 
 the close damp air as imprisoned, too. A mere describer 
 of a prison, seeking a neat word, might hit upon the same 
 expression, and using it without real feeling, justly incur 
 Landor's charge of 'prettiness.' 
 
 11. day spring. Cf. Job xxxviii. 12. 
 here leave me. From here to 1. no we may imagine 
 Samson alone. 
 
 13. Dagon. The god of the Philistines, whom Milton 
 describes in the first book of Paradise Lost (462) as * sea- 
 monster, upward man And downward fish . . . dreaded 
 through the coast Of Palestine . . . and Gaza's frontier 
 bounds.' Gaza was near the coast, and might easily be- 
 lieve in a marine deity; although it is not certain that the 
 etymology of the word ' Dagon ' indicates a fish-god, as 
 Milton doubtless assumed. Cf, Nativ. 199, and note on 
 same, p. 191. 
 
 16. popular noise. Noise made by the populace. 
 
 20. no sooner found alone. The sense is obvious, but 
 the construction is so compact as to be difficult: upon me 
 no sooner found alone but (they) rush thronging. 
 
 24. twice. Once to the unnamed mother of Samson, 
 and again to her and Manoa. Judges xiii. 3 and 9-1 1. 
 
 25. ascended. Judges xiii. 20. 
 
SAMSON ACONISTES. 287 
 
 28. and from some great act . . . revealed. And (as) 
 from the revelation of some, etc. For the construction of 
 ' revealed/ cf. Comus 48, and note, p. 227. 
 
 31. separate to God. Judges xiii. 5. Those who took 
 the vow of Nazarites were ' separate to God/ Cf. Num- 
 bers vi. Further references to the scriptural narrative 
 will not be noted, except to clear up difficulties. 
 
 33. captived. The accent may have fallen on the second 
 syllable, as it does in Spenser, F. Q. ii. 4, 16, but the 
 modern ear is not offended by the modern accentuation 
 of the word in the line. 
 
 39. deliver. 4 Begin to deliver ' was the promise of the 
 angel. 
 
 41. Landor, not without good reason, would punctuate: 
 
 1 Eyeless, in Gaza, at the mill, with slaves,* 
 
 47. this high gift. Object of 'keep.' 
 
 48. Nor could I keep under the seal of silence in what 
 part my strength was lodged, and how easily it might be 
 bereft from me. 
 
 55. secure. Care-less. 
 
 56. weakest subtleties. Strength is never so ignomini- 
 ous as when defeated by small trickery; there is no such 
 disgrace in strength overcome by strength. Keightley 
 takes ' weakest subtleties ' to mean ' women ' ! 
 
 70. prime. First. Gen. i. 3. 
 
 extinct. Extinguished. 
 77. still. Always, ever. 
 81. The line may be scanned, as by Bridges: 
 
 4 I'rre | co'v^ra | bly da'rk j to'tal | ecli'pse," 
 
 or preferably, I think: 
 
 1 Irr^co'v I era | bly da'rk | to'tal | ecli'pse," 
 
 the difference being merely as whether the first or second 
 e in ' irrecoverably ' shall be slurred. Preserving the 
 
288 NOTES. 
 
 syllabic value of the second e gives a stronger roll to the 
 word. 
 
 82. without all. Without any. 
 
 84. The line is without quotation marks in the 1671 
 edition. It would be possible, although not advisable, to 
 read; 
 
 * " Let there be light," and light was over all.' 
 
 87. silent. The word may be the poet's own metaphor 
 for * dark,' or Milton may have in mind the Latin luna 
 silens, the moon at the time of conjunction, i. e., when it 
 is invisible. 
 
 89. vacant. Not ' empty,' for the moon is hid there, 
 but where the moon may rest or have vacation. But 
 perhaps, as Keightley suggests, it may mean 'empty of 
 light.' 'Interlunar' is a peculiarly daring expression, 
 because literally it means only ' between moons/ — 'when 
 the moon hides in her cave between moons ' — but the 
 tautology disappears under the strength of the adjective. 
 
 92. light is in the soul. Cf. P. Z. iii. 51. With this part 
 of Samson's speech, cf. the magnificent introduction 
 (i-55) to the third book of Paradise Lost. 
 
 93. She all in every part. A reference to the notion 
 that the soul was diffused through every part of the body. 
 Percival traces the idea from Plotinus and the Neo- 
 Platonists, through the Nosce Teipsum of Sir John Davies, 
 (1599) to Milton. 
 
 95. obvious. Exposed; literally, 'in the way.' 
 
 106. obnoxious. Liable. 
 
 in. many feet. Greek drama used a chorus of twelve 
 or more. 
 
 steering. Directing (themselves). 
 
 115. The metre of the choral odes is referred to in the 
 last paragraph of the Appendix. This ode is not ad- 
 dressed to Samson, and is not heard by him save as a 
 confused ' sound of words' (1. 176-7). 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 289 
 
 118. at random. Carelessly; as Percival suggests, 
 1 anyhow.' 
 
 diffused. Several classical expressions have been 
 found by commentators, beginning with Thyer, which 
 would account for Milton's use of this word. In Eliza- 
 bethan usage it might imply a negligence, as of dress. 
 
 120. abandoned. In 167 1, 'abandon'd'; the final '-ed* 
 is therefore not made a separate syllable. 
 
 122. habit, weeds. Dress, garments. The words are re- 
 tained in present usage in 'riding habit,' 'widow's weeds.' 
 
 129. embattled. In line of battle. Cf. Emerson's 
 
 4 Here once the embattled farmers stood.' 
 
 133. Chalybean. Made by the Chalybes, a people of 
 Asia Minor, famous for their skill in working iron. The 
 word permits here either pronunciation, Chalybean, or 
 Chalybean; the latter the better, save that ■ Adamant^an ' 
 in the next time repeats the effect, and therefore Milton 
 may have pronounced the word, * Chalybean.' 
 
 134. Adamantean proof. Proof against adamant, or 
 better, as .if made of adamant and hence proof against 
 anything not so hard. Adamant means an unconquerable 
 substance, as a diamond or hardest steel (sometimes a 
 magnet). 
 
 136. insupportably. That could not be supported or 
 resisted by the enemy. 
 
 138. Ascalonite. Inhabitant of Askelon, one of the 
 chief cities of the Philistines (/ Samuel vi. 17). 
 
 139. his lion ramp. His spring like a lion's. 
 142. what. Whatever. 
 
 144. foreskins. Uncircumcised Philistines. 
 
 fell. One expects the thought to run: he slew a thou- 
 sand, instead of, a thousand fell. 
 
 145. Ramath-lechi. * The lifting up of the jawbone, or 
 the casting away of the jawbone', is the marginal trans- 
 lation of the term in the King James version. 
 
290 NOTES. 
 
 147. Azza. Gaza. 
 
 148. Hebron. The city of Anak's father, Arba {Joshua 
 xv. 13). The sons of Anak were giants, 4 which come of 
 the giants' (JVum&ers xiii. 33). 
 
 149. No journey of a Sabbath day. The Mosaic injunc- 
 tion that no man should ' go out of his place on the 
 seventh day ' {Exodus xvi. 29) applied in strictness only 
 to the manna gatherers; but, according to rabbinical 
 tradition, was viewed as a part of the permanent law. 
 In order to permit some necessary movement, the 
 'journey' allowable on the Sabbath was fixed at two 
 thousand cubits, the distance of the holy tabernacle from 
 the remotest part of the Israelitish camp in the wilderness 
 (From MS. note of Professor M. Mielziner, Hebrew Union 
 College, Cincinnati). From Gaza to Hebron was about 
 forty miles. 
 
 150. Like whom. Atlas. 
 
 157. The parenthesis may be paraphased: a matter 
 (namely, that the soul is imprisoned in the body) which 
 men who enjoy sight often complain of without cause. 
 
 162. inward light. Cf. 1. 92; also P. L. iii. 51. 
 
 165. since man on earth. Since man has been on earth. 
 
 172. sphere. The word has caused some difficulty. 
 One of the attributes of Fortune is a wheel, indicative of 
 change; perhaps Milton means this wheel. Masson 
 recalls that Fortune stood on a rotating globe; Percival 
 quotes Plutarch's reference to Fortune holding a sphere 
 in her hand: neither of these spheres, others remark, 
 could ' raise ' a man. But it is probable that Milton is 
 not pursuing the visual image very far; he doubtless says 
 * sphere of fortune ' as a figure of speech for fortune itself. 
 
 181. Eshtaol and Zora. Towns in the 'camp of Dan' 
 between which ' the spirit of the Lord began to move him 
 [Samson] at times,' and between which he was buried. 
 Judges xiii. 25, and xvi. 31. 
 
 182. to visit or, Calton (a friend of the editor, Newton) 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 291 
 
 suggested that Milton dictated ' and'; a reading at least 
 as good as that of the text. 
 
 if better. If it be better for thee, we are ready to 
 bring, etc. Percival, on the other hand, takes it to mean: 
 to see if we may better bring, etc. 
 
 189. These words on friendship evidently apply to 
 Milton's own experience with the majority of his friends. 
 As to the minority, Milton (as Verity says) ' had no cause 
 to complain of want of loyalty in friends like Thomas 
 Ellwood.' 
 
 195. Another mood from that portrayed in 1. 66-7. But 
 as Newton clearly pointed out, there is no real inconsist- 
 ence: alone, Samson felt his blindness most; with friends, 
 his disgrace. 
 
 197. heave. Lift. 
 
 205. Yet why? And why, or Yet why not? (Percival). 
 The question does not ask what is in the people's minds 
 to make them speak so, but what made Samson the sub- 
 ject of their thoughts and consequent utterances. 
 
 207. mean. Average. 
 
 210. wisest man. In choosing wives, — Milton remarked 
 in Tetrachordon, — ' the best and wisest men ... do 
 daily err.' 
 
 212. pretend they. Though they pretend to be. * Pre- 
 tend ' may mean either 'intend' or 'feign'; the former 
 would be more in the spirit of the context. 
 
 213. Deject. Only the participle * dejected' has re- 
 mained in use. 
 
 216. The same question that Samson's father and 
 mother asked him {Judges xiv. 3). 
 
 219. Timna. Timnath. 
 
 220. Not my parents. But (it pleased) not. Not im- 
 possibly Milton thought of his own first marriage. 
 
 222. motioned. Proposed. 
 
 knew. Cf. Fudges xiv. 4. 
 229. Sorec, Judges xvi. 4. 
 
292 NOTES. 
 
 230. accomplished snare. Not meaning a deceitful 
 woman possessing accomplishments, but, I take it, one 
 who was to accomplish the ensnaring. Thus Keats ; of a 
 man who was to be murdered: 
 
 ' So the two brothers and their murdered man 
 Rode past fair Florence. 7 — Isabella. 
 
 235. peal. Alone, the word might mean either a peal 
 of bells or of artillery. In spite of the anachronism, the 
 latter, because of the other martial images, seems meant. 
 
 238. Philistines. Accent on the first syllable in each of 
 the ten cases in which Milton uses the word in the drama. 
 
 240. Israel still serves. Jortin, quoted by Todd, as- 
 sumes a reference to England's slavery, — the re-accept- 
 ance of the Stuart rule. 
 
 247. ambition. Canvassing. Like the technical Latin * 
 meaning of going about (ambitio) seeking votes. 
 
 248. though mute. Cf. Julius Ccesar III. i. 260, and III. 
 ii. 229. 
 
 253. Etham. Judges xv. 8, 11. 
 
 257. harass. A rare, perhaps unique (Percival), use of 
 the word as a noun. 
 
 266. Gath. / Samuel vii. 14. 
 
 268-276. Milton could hardly have composed these lines 
 without implying a reference to the England of his day. 
 
 273. whom. Masson sees a reference to Milton's own 
 position after the Restoration, Dunster (quoted by Per- 
 cival) to Lambert. But it seems at least as likely that 
 Milton may have Cromwell in mind. Collins names 
 Cromwell only. 
 
 278. Succoth, Penuel. Cities which refused bread to 
 Gideon, who was in pursuit of Zebah and Zalmunna, 
 Midianite kings, afterward vanquished by Gideon. 
 Judges viii. 5-17. 
 
 281. Madian. Midian, a place near the head of the 
 Red Sea, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 293 
 
 282. Ephraim. The Ephraimites, who after Jephthah 
 had conquered the Ammonites, turned against him. For 
 the whole story, cf. Judges xi.-xii. 
 
 283. Had dealt. Would have dealt. 
 
 by argument. Jephthah sent to the Ammonites a 
 message which defended the rights of the Israelites to the 
 territory claimed by the Ammonites. Judges xi. 14-27. 
 
 284. shield and spear. Jephthah ' smote them . . . 
 with a very great slaughter.' Judges xi. 33. 
 
 287. that sore battle. Following his victory over the 
 Ammonites, Jephthah and his men of Gilead fought the 
 Ephraimites, and taking possession of the passages of 
 the Jordan, slew those whose pronunciation of Shibboleth 
 betrayed their nationality. Judges xi. 4-6. 
 
 291. mine. My people. 
 
 292. not so. Not easily, not safely. 
 293-4. Cf. P. L.\. 26. 
 
 295. who think not God. Who think that there is not 
 a God. 
 
 297. never was there school. Never was there a philo- 
 sophic sect bound together by this doctrine. 
 
 298. the heart of the fool. ' The fool hath said in his 
 heart, There is no God ' (Ps. xiv. 1). 
 
 299. no man therein doctor. No man is learned in such 
 doctrine but the fool. 
 
 300. doubt. Suspect. 
 
 303. his glory's diminution. As pointed out by Richard- 
 son, Milton doubtless had in mind the Latin phrase ma~ 
 jest at em populi Romani minue7'e, equivalent to being 
 guilty oicrzme?t Icesce majestatis. To ■ diminish ' the glory 
 of God was to be guilty of high treason against him. 
 
 305. They unweave without disentangling. ■ Ravel,' 
 from meaning ' unweave/ came occasionally to mean 
 * entangle,' whence the rise of such a word as 'unravel.' 
 resolved. Answered, satisfied with their explana- 
 tions. 
 
294 NOTES. 
 
 312. national obstriction. An obligation imposed upon 
 a nation, as, for instance, that the Jews should not marry 
 with Gentiles. 
 
 313. or legal debt. This may follow 4 exempt from' 
 (Verity), in which case it would mean * obligation to ful- 
 fil the law.' But this seems forced and tautological. To 
 make it depend on ' without ' or ' taint of ' gives an easier 
 construction; the meaning then being * penalty for having 
 broken the law ' (Percival). 
 
 315. If it were not best for God to dispense with his 
 own laws when he wished, he would have found means 
 within his own laws to accomplish his purpose. ' Other- 
 wise he, who never lacked for means, would not have 
 prompted/ etc. 
 
 319. vow of strictest purity. The vow of the Nazarite 
 {Numbers vi.) did not include celibacy, but being stricter 
 than the rule imposed by 4 national obstriction,' it would 
 all the more be infringed by marriage with a Gentile. 
 
 321. unclean. Probably because she was a Philistine. 
 unchaste. This might apply to the first wife, but not 
 to Dalila, so far as the scriptural narrative is concerned. 
 But in P. L. ix. 1060-1, Milton makes the same charge. 
 Percival cites, to the same effect, Josephus v. 8, 11. 
 Collins quotes Milton's Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce 
 ii. 19; but this reference is rather far-fetched. 
 
 324. moral verdict. As distinguished from the divine 
 judgment. 
 
 quits. Acquits. 
 
 325. Unchastity must have depended on uncleanness: of 
 what avail, then, for reason to acquit her of uncleanness? 
 
 327. careful. Full of care, anxious. 
 
 328. advise thyself. 
 
 330. Ay me. Old French aymi % Greek otfioi. 
 
 333. uncouth. Strange. Literally, ' unknown/ then 
 (and therefore) 4 strange/ then (as now) * outlandish ' or 
 ' barbarous/ 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 295 
 
 335. informed. Directed. Cf. Comus 180. 
 
 336. Your younger feet, etc. This accounts for the com- 
 ing of the Chorus before Manoa enters (Newton). 
 
 338. signal. Conspicuous. 
 
 345. Duelled. In the * duel,' the armies were on one 
 side, Samson alone on the other. Had others aided him, 
 the word ' duel ' would have been out of place. 
 
 352. I prayed. Josephus is quoted as authority by 
 Percival, but no authority is needed. 
 
 354. as. That. 
 
 360. graces. Favors. 
 scorpion's. Cf. Luke xi. 12 : 'If he shall ask an egg, 
 will he offer him a scorpion ? ' 
 
 364. miracle. Object of wonder. 
 
 373. Appoint. Several meanings have been suggested: 
 'arraign,' * censure/ ' arrange/ 4 point at.' The simplest 
 meaning of the line seems to be : Seek not to ar- 
 range or direct (appoint) the heavenly disposition of 
 affairs. Cf. 1. 643. (We speak now of a ' well-ap- 
 pointed' house.) But the Oxford Dictionary is probably 
 right in interpreting the word as found in this line, as 
 * To assign or impute blame to; to stigmatize, arraign. 
 Obsolete.' 
 
 380. Canaanite. The Philistines, as editors note, were 
 not Canaanites, although they had immigrated into 
 Canaan. 
 
 381. surprised. In the military, rather than the psycho- 
 logical, sense of the word. 
 
 382. oft. Frequent. 
 
 387. rivals. Cf. fudges xiv. 20. 
 
 394. capital. Chief, or fatal; "but it is hard not to see a 
 play upon words, also : capital, pertaining to caput, the 
 head, the part where the * strength lay stored.' 
 
 395. in what part summed. A repetition to indicate the 
 repeated entreaties. 
 
 403. blandished. Full of blandishments. 
 
296 NOTES. 
 
 405. Cf. Tennyson's Merlin and Vivien: 
 
 'For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn, 
 Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept.' 
 
 408. well resolved. Strongly resolute is the meaning 
 here. Contrast with ' resolved ' in 1. 305. 
 410. effeminacy, Uxoriousness (Percival). 
 
 423. infest. Molest. 
 
 424. I state not that. I do not urge or discuss that 
 point; or better, I do not pretend to establish that (Per- 
 cival). 
 
 439. Them out of thine. Delivered them out of thy 
 hands. 
 
 slew'st them. Ethical dative. 
 
 453. idolists. Idolaters. 
 
 454. diffidence. In its literal meaning of ' distrust/ 
 
 455. propense. Inclined. 
 
 461. With me. So far as I am concerned. 
 
 463. Me overthrown. I being overthrown. But * me ' 
 makes the construction look more like the Latin absolute, 
 the ablative. 
 
 466. connive. Tolerate. 
 
 471. confusion. As Percival notes, a stronger word 
 formerly than now. 
 
 blank. Make pale. 
 
 477-8. whether God be Lord Or Dagon. Whether God 
 or Dagon be Lord. 
 
 481. made way. Gone. 
 
 489. pay on. Keep on paying. 
 
 496. front. Forehead. 
 
 496-7. The first edition prints the lines thus: 
 
 'The mark of fool set on his front? 
 But I Gods counsel have not kept, his holy secret ' 
 
 Warton placed 4 But I ' in the preceding line, thus making 
 the metre regular. Masson restores the old reading 
 (except the question mark), for which there is the justifi- 
 
SAMSON AGOXISTES. 297 
 
 cation that the long line ' makes the mind dwell upon 
 Samson's anguish at the thought.' I have preferred to 
 depart from the original reading (which is most likely a 
 printer's error), not so much for metrical reasons as for 
 the sake of the needed emphasis, which will then fall upon 
 the words ' I ' and ' God's.' 
 
 497. God's counsel. In strong antithesis to ' secrets of 
 men,' 1. 492. 
 
 500. Tantalus, who betrayed the secrets of Zeus, was 
 condemned to suffer in Hades (' their abyss ') the pangs of 
 ever-thwarted appetite. An allusion to Greek mythology 
 is of course anachronistic. 
 
 501. horrid pains confined. ' Pains ' follows 4 condemned 
 to,' and ' confined ' must have ' to be ' supplied. Or the 
 construction may be that of 1. 29, ' to the confinement of 
 their abyss and horrid pains.' Cf. Covins 48, note, p. 227. 
 Strictly, it is the person, not the sin, that is confined. 
 
 503. But act not in. Take no step of thine own to bring 
 about. 
 
 505. bids you to do it. 
 
 506. Manoa turns Samson's own argument upon him 
 
 (1-373). 
 
 509. quit. Release, acquit. 
 
 514. which argues. Which shows him to be. 
 
 516. what offered means who knows. Reject not the 
 means which who knows but that God hath set. Or, more 
 simply : — Certain means seem offered; who knows but 
 that God has set the means before us; reject it not, then. 
 
 518. his sacred house. The tabernacle. 
 
 52S. sons of Anak. Cf. 1. 14S, note, p. 290. 
 
 53 l. my affront. The affronting of me. 
 
 533. venereal trains. Snares of love. Such a word as 
 * venereal,' from Venus, of Latin mythology, shows the 
 futility of rigid objections to anachronism. It would be 
 idle to object to the adjective, which, nevertheless, pre- 
 supposes the noun whose use would be an anachronism. 
 
298 NOTES. 
 
 543. thou could'st repress. In accordance with the 
 Nazarite vow. 
 
 Dancing ruby. ' Wine when it is red.' Pro:', xxiii. 31. 
 Cf. also Comus 673. 
 
 545. Cf. Judges ix. 13. Keightley notes that in the 
 Hebrew the substantive is plural, 'gods '; so that Milton's 
 rendering is closer than that of the authorized version. 
 
 546. crystalline. Accent on second syllable. 
 
 548. eastern. Percival discovered the source of this 
 idea, — Ezek. xlvii. i, 8, 9. 
 
 550. milky. An unexpected word, which no editor has 
 exactly justified. Possibly Milton thought of water (in 
 comparison with wine) as being as fresh and wholesome 
 as milk. Once before, in P. L. v. 306, he speaks of a 
 1 milky stream.' 
 
 551. and refreshed. ' And was refreshed/ co-ordinate 
 with ' drank '; or * and being refreshed,' co-ordinate with 
 ' allaying thirst.' 
 
 558. this temperance. Restraint in this respect. 
 
 562. Effeminately. Cf. 1. 410, note, p. 296. 
 
 566. But to sit idle. This follows ' serve.' 
 
 569. Robustious. Strong; a derogatory sense of the 
 word is found in Hamlet III. ii. 10, ' hear a robustious 
 periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters.' 
 
 571. craze. Break; as in P. L. xii. 210. Fr. ecraser. 
 
 574. draff. Refuse. 
 
 582. From the dry ground. The authorized version of 
 Judges xv. 19 speaks of ' a hollow place that was in the 
 jaw,' but the word 'jaw' (Lehi) is also interpreted to 
 mean a place, or rock, called Lehi. Milton has followed 
 this latter interpretation. 
 
 591. treat. Deal. 
 
 598. that rest. Cf. Job iii. 13, 17. 
 
 600. humours black. The old physiology named four 
 * humours ' in the body, blood, phlegm, choler, and mel- 
 ancholy (the black humor, or black bile). The pre- 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 299 
 
 ponderance of any one affected a man correspondingly. 
 Cf. Comus 809, note, p. 247. Cf., also, the Induction to 
 Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humour. 
 
 605. healing words. Todd notes Euripides' expression, 
 \6yoL SeXKTrjpLOL {Hippolytus, 478). Cf. P. L. ix. 290. 
 
 609. reins. The kidneys. 
 
 612. his. ' His' was the neuter as well as the masculine 
 possessive. Here, however, there is probably the same 
 sense of personification that there is in the reference to 
 the mind as ' her.' Milton uses ' its ' but three times in 
 his verse. 
 
 accidents. Not here in its logical sense of ' property ' 
 (for which see the introductory comments on Vac. Ex. 
 and note on 1. 59 of that poem, p. 185), but in a sense 
 easily derivable from that; namely, of that which accom- 
 panies a thing, a symptom, therefore, and perhaps also a 
 pain or torture. 4 Torture ' would readily be an ' accident ' 
 of ' torment ' (1. 606). 
 
 615. answerable. Corresponding. 
 
 624. apprehensive. Sensitive, rather than apprehend- 
 ing ' ; although in either sense it refers to the mind. 
 
 627. medicinal. Here probably to be pronounced as a 
 dissyllable, ' med'c'nal/ as in Comus, 636. The objection 
 to pronouncing it in four syllables (with accent on the first 
 syllable) is that not only is the word spelled * medcinal ' 
 in the first edition, but also (according to Todd) it is re- 
 peatedly so spelled in Milton's prose. The Milton MS. of 
 Comus reads ' med'cinall.' 
 
 628. Alp. A mountain, usually snow-capped. 
 
 633. his. * God's,' implied in ' Heaven's,' in the preced- 
 ing line. 
 
 643. appointment. Arrangement. Cf. 1. 373. 
 
 644. irreparable. According to Percival ' irreparable,' 
 making the line an Alexandrine. But the 167 1 edition 
 reads ' th' irreparable,' which would indicate a pentam- 
 eter line and the scansion value either ' ivrep'rable ' (an 
 
3<>6 NOl'ES. 
 
 extra syllable before the final accent in the line), or 
 4 irv'ftar'ble.' 
 
 645. repeated. Not in the sense of ' repeatedly ' (Keight- 
 ley), but * made again and again/ 
 
 652. Keightley notes that Milton had forgotten that there 
 was not much literature in Samson's time. Milton speaks 
 for himself, regardless of the age in which the chorus lived. 
 
 657. Consolatories writ. Consolatory treatises are 
 written. 
 
 658. sought. Not ■ is sought for,' but ' sought out/ 
 1 studied/ ' recherche' (Percival). 
 
 659. lenient of grief. Alleviating grief. A Latin usage. 
 662. of dissonant mood. In a different key. Cf. L'AIL 
 
 136, note, p. 208. 
 
 672. The angelic orders. The celestial hierarchies were 
 three, in each of which were three orders : seraphim, 
 cherubim, and thrones ; dominations, virtues, and pow- 
 ers ; principalities, archangels, and angels. 
 
 676. Cf. Gray's Ode on the Spring 25-40. 
 
 677. Heads. Persons. The Latin capita. 
 
 678. Again the reference to contemporary conditions 
 becomes obvious. The Restoration brought to the repub- 
 licans the ills spoken of in the score of lines that follow. 
 The republican leaders, who had ■ in part * effected their 
 task of establishing a Commonwealth, suffered punish- 
 ment far more ' grievous ' than their ' trespass or omis- 
 sion ' warranted. (It will be noted that Milton thinks that 
 some punishment was deserved, — not for republicanism 
 itself, but because the chief men on his side were not in 
 thorough harmony and did not go far enough.) The 
 bodies of Cromwell, Bradshaw and Ireton were exhumed 
 and exposed; some of the prominent men were im- 
 prisoned, or subjected to ' unjust tribunals ' (Milton doubt- 
 less refers to Sir Harry Vane, executed in 1662) and put to 
 death; and those who escaped, as did Milton himself, 
 were bowed down, perhaps, in poverty and disease. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. $6t 
 
 694, To dogs and fowls a prey. Cf Iliad i. 4: 4 ' their 
 bodies a prey to dogs and all birds." 
 
 700. crude. Too early. 
 
 701-2. Although not of irregular life (' disordinate ') yet 
 suffering, without a cause, the punishment that should 
 befall only the dissolute. Not improbably Milton is think- 
 ing of the gout that afflicted him in spite of his sparing 
 life. 
 
 713. Comes this way sailing. Todd points out Milton's 
 contemptuous use of the same image in reference to the 
 prelates : " . . . laugh to see them under sail in all their 
 lawn and sarcenet, their shrouds and tackle " (Of Reforma- 
 tion ii). 
 
 715. Tarsus. There are several scriptural references to 
 ships of Tarshish (Cf. Isaiah xxiii. 1), a place usually 
 identified with Tartessus in southern Spain. But in 
 choosing a more euphonious word than Tarshish, Milton, 
 like some other scholars, identifies the town with Tarsus 
 in Cilicia, Paul's city. 
 
 716. Javan or Gadire. Greece or Cadiz. Javan = 'Idwv, 
 whence Ionia. Gadire = Tddeipa, Latin Gades. 
 
 719. hold them play. Hold play to them ; that is, sport 
 with them : not, hold them in play. (Percival.) 
 
 720. amber. Ambergris. Amber-gris, gray amber, as 
 distinguished from yellow amber, an entirely different 
 substance. 
 
 721. harbinger. The perfume heralds her approach. 
 729. addressed. Prepared, as in 1. 731. 
 
 736. fact. Thing done; act. 
 
 738. penance. In the sense of 'penitence.' 
 
 739. No way assured. ' Pardon assured ' is more prob- 
 ably the ablative absolute construction than the construc- 
 tion in which * is ' is omitted. 
 
 742. estate. State, condition ; as in the Prayer Book, 
 * afflicted, or distressed, in mind, body, or estate.' 
 748. hyaena. Milton compares Dalila to the wild animal 
 
302 NOTES. 
 
 that is proverbially deceitful and vicious, especially in its 
 supposed power, noted by Pliny, to imitate the human 
 voice and thus lure men. 
 
 752. move. As in 1. 222, ' motioned.' Cf. note thereon, 
 p. 291. 
 
 760. principled. Comns, 367, has ' unprincipled.' There 
 is evident reminiscence in this speech of Samson's, of Mil- 
 ton's taking back his first wife. 
 
 769. aggravations. Additional offences, not merely 
 annoyances. ' Aggravate ' is frequently misused in care- 
 less speech. 
 
 782. As if quoting what might be urged against her, in 
 order to forestall the expected charge. 
 
 785. parle. Parley. 
 
 787. censure. Judge. Cf. Hamlet I. iii. 69. 
 
 788. gentler. Gentlier. 
 794. fancy. Affection. 
 
 796. How to endear. Not ' thee ' but ' myself to thee.' 
 
 800. I was assured. Compare Dalila's excuses through- 
 out with the scriptural account. Note, also, the similarity 
 of her argument, and Vivien's in Merlin and Vivien. 
 
 803. That made for me. That was to my advantage. 
 
 8n. for good. As good. 
 
 812. fond. Foolish; as previously. 
 
 819. cunningly. Deceitfully. The use of ' cunning ' as 
 applied to children is American, not English. 
 
 825. Such pardon. The kind of pardon he deserved for 
 himself, — no pardon at all. 
 
 836. Cf. note on 1. 782, above. 
 
 840. Knowing myself to be. 
 
 842. Or. Some early editions read ' For ' ; which Per- 
 cival restores, on the ground that it is the reading of ' Mil- 
 ton's own edition' ; but Beeching's reprint of that edition 
 gives ' Or.' Keightley suspected that Milton dictated 
 ' And ' ; but ' Or ' gives sufficiently good sense to warrant 
 its retention. 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 303 
 
 873. still. Always. 
 
 878. The sense here depends largely upon the punctua- 
 tion. The original reads: 
 
 ' lov'd thee, as too well thou knew'st, 
 Too well, . . . ' 
 
 This would now mean: k loved thee too well, as too well 
 thou knewest' ; a reading certainly more commonplace 
 than the reading here given, which Todd used in 1801, 
 and which implies a repetition of ' loved ' in 1. 879. 
 
 880. levity. Mere shallowness. 
 
 897. acquit. Vindicate. Keightley takes ' acquit ' in 
 its present meaning, and understands ' as Gods.' 
 
 906. peals. Cf. 1. 235, note, p. 292. 
 
 911. Possibly an Alexandrine; but it is easy to scan the 
 line as pentameter, by elision: 
 
 ' To'ards thee | Imtend \ for what | I have | misdone.* 
 
 913. sensibly. Sensitively. 
 
 915. enjoyed. To be enjoyed, enjoyable. 
 
 919. abroad. Out of doors. 
 
 925. old age. The general tone of these speeches im- 
 plies that old age is not far off. Samson, however, was 
 not an old man when he died. But Milton himself has 
 entered into the situation, and speaks as for himself. 
 
 932. trains. Deceptive attractions, as in 1. 533, and 
 Comus 151. 
 
 933. gins. Snares. 
 toils. Nets. 
 
 934. A reminiscence of Circe, and the Sirens. 
 
 935. nulled. Annulled. 
 
 936. Cf. Psalm lviii. 4-5. 
 944. last. At last. 
 
 947. gloss. Comment. 
 
 censuring. As in 1. 787. 
 950. To. Compared with. 
 
304 NOTES. 
 
 971. Fame. Rumor rather than distinction. 
 double-faced. As Janus was. 
 
 double-mouthed. One mouth to speak evil, and one to 
 speak good, — ' with contrary blast.' 
 
 973. his. Fame is usually personified as feminine. 
 Keightley suggests that Milton may have dictated ' one 
 white, the other black,' thus avoiding the end rhyme. It 
 would, however, be hardly safe to make the change, as it 
 is not impossible that Milton intended a rhyme. To mod- 
 ern ears the rhymeless reading sounds better. 
 
 981. Four of the chief cities of the Philistines. Their 
 other main city was Ashkelon. 
 
 988-990. Mount Ephraim, Jael, Sisera. The song of 
 Deborah (Judges v.), who dwelt 'in Mount Ephraim/ 
 (Judges iv. 5) glorifies Jael for her treacherous murder of 
 Sisera (Judges iv. 17-21). 
 
 993. piety. Duty to family or country. 
 
 995. envies. Feels hostility. 
 
 998. in the end. As the serpent's sting (according to 
 Milton) is in its tail, so the sting of Dalila's speech is at 
 the very last. A rather unnecessary play upon words. 
 
 1000. aggravate. Make heavier; its literal meaning. 
 Cf. 1. 769, note, p. 302. 
 
 1008. Newton quotes Terence (Andria iii. 3, 23): Aman- 
 tium tree amoris redinlegratio est. 
 
 1010. wit. Mental capacity. There is here a strong re- 
 semblance, which I have not seen noted, to these lines of 
 Ben Jonson's : 
 
 4 The bride hath beauty, blood and place, 
 The bridegroom virtue, valour, wit, 
 And wisdom as he stands for it.' 
 
 — The Staple of News III. i. 
 
 1012. inherit. Keep. 
 
 1017. seven. The guests at Samson's wedding-feast 
 pondered seven days over the riddle (Judges xiv. 12-18). 
 
SA MSON A GONIS TES. 3°5 
 
 1018. If it had been any or all these qualities, that might 
 win woman's love, then the Timnian bride, etc. 
 
 1019. Milton transfers the fault of Samson's first father- 
 in-law to Samson's first wife, who is not mentioned, how- 
 ever, as resisting her father's disposal of her. 
 
 1020. paranymph. Groomsman. Cf. Judges xiv. 20. 
 1025. for that. Because. 
 
 such outward ornament. Cf. P. L. viii. 537-542. 
 1030. affect. Like. 
 
 1037. thorn Intestine. ' Thorn in the flesh ' (II. Cor. 
 xii. 7). 
 
 1038. within defensive arms. As we speak of ' inside 
 one's guard.' 
 
 1039. cleaving mischief. An allusion to the poisoned 
 shirt of Hercules has been assumed by the commentators 
 since Newton; but it is not necessarily implied. 
 
 1047. Cf. Prov. xxxi. 10, and xviii. 22. 
 
 1048. combines. Unites with him. 
 
 1053. Cf. P. L. x. 195-6: God speaks to Eve — 
 
 1 To thy husband's will 
 Thine shall submil; he over thee shall rule.' 
 
 Cf., also, Efthesians v. 22-23. 
 
 106 1. I see a storm. This allusion to Harapha seems 
 perilously near to inappropriate joking. But Milton was 
 in no jesting mood. 
 
 1068. Harapha. In II. Samuel xxi. 16, 18, 20, the mar- 
 ginal reading for ' giant' is ' Rapha.' That Milton iden- 
 tified his Harapha with this Rapha is shown in 1. 1248- 
 1249, where Harapha is spoken of as the father of Goliah. 
 The twenty-first chapter just referred to (v. 22) speaks of 
 four sons of the giant, but one of them is called the 
 * brother of Goliah ' : this would make up the five of the 
 'giant brood/ 
 
 1069. pile high-built. As if his body were comparable to 
 a high building. Cf. 1. 1239, 4 tn Y structure.' 
 
3o6 NOTES. 
 
 1071. I less conjecture. I know even less. 
 
 1075. fraught. The matter with which he is fraught. 
 
 1076. chance. Lot. 
 
 1077. these. The members of the chorus. 
 
 1080. Og. Numbers xxi. 33. 
 Anak. Numbers xiii. 22, 33. 
 Emims. Deuteronomy ii. 10. 
 
 108 1. Kiriathaim. Genesis xiv. 5. 
 
 1082. If thou at all are known. Cf. P. L. iv. 830: 
 
 4 Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.' 
 
 1087. camp or listed field. On the field of battle {cam- 
 pus) or in the lists (tournament field). 
 
 1092. single me. Single me out. 
 
 1093. Gyves. Chains. That Milton did not mean hand- 
 cuffs, as Keightley takes it, is shown by 1. 1235. 
 
 1096. Beeching's reprint gives ' with other arms/ — prob- 
 ably a typographical error of the original. Certainly 
 1 wish other arms ' is an utterance more in keeping with 
 the context, and has been substituted by recent editors. 
 
 1099. Palestine. ■ The land of the Philistines. 
 
 1 105. in thy hand. In thy power. 
 
 1 109. assassinated. Treacherously beset. The word 
 in its early use did not involve actual murder, but meant 
 rather a murderous attack. 
 
 1113. close-banded. Secretly pledged. 
 
 1 120. brigandine. Coat of mail. 
 habergeon. Neck and shoulder armor. 
 
 1 121. Vant-brace. Armor for the arms. 
 greaves. Leg armor. 
 
 1 1 22. weaver's beam. Cf. description of Goliah's spear, 
 /. Samuel xvii. 7. 
 
 seven-times-folded. Septemplex, of seven thicknesses. 
 
 1 138. ruffled porcupines. Suggesting, of course, Shakes- 
 peare's 'fretful porcupine' {Hamlet I. v. 19). 
 
 1 139. forbidden arts. Magic ; with doubtless a reference 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 307 
 
 to the oath taken by mediaeval knights before combat, 
 that they had made no use of charms to protect them- 
 selves, but trusted only in God (Warton). 
 
 1 162. asses. Percival points out that the employment 
 of asses for this work is indicated in the Greek version of 
 Matt, xviii. 6, /ai/Xos 6plk6s, translated ' millstone ' in the 
 authorized version, but ' mylnstoon of asses ' by Wyclif. 
 Cf. 1. 37. 
 
 comrades. Accented, as originally, on second syllable. 
 
 1 164. boisterous. Strong. Cf. 1. 568-9. 
 
 1 184. league-breaker. For the Philistines were then 
 rulers over Israel. Cf. Judges xv. 11. 
 
 1 1 86. thirty men. Judges xiv. 19. 
 
 1195. politician. Intriguing, relying on ' policy.' 
 
 1 197. spies. Milton follows here Josephus, who says of 
 the thirty that they were ' in reality to be a guard upon 
 him.' The scriptural narrative does not indicate bad 
 faith, until the thirty ' companions ' fear that they are 
 going to lose their wages. 
 
 1 1 98. threatening. Judges xiv. 15. 
 
 1 199. secret. The incident of the lion and the honey 
 was not only the secret of his riddle, but was unknown to 
 anyone — even to his father and mother, who ate of the 
 honey {Judges xiv. 9); doubtless, as Percival suggests, 
 because to a Nazarite contact with the lion's carcass was 
 defilement. 
 
 1205. Here, and in lines 1208-10, Samson quotes the 
 charges against him. 
 
 1208. a private person. Not publicly commissioned to 
 war against the Philistines. 
 
 121 8. mine own offence. Following the 1671 text, the 
 invariable reading has been 'my known offence. ' The 
 offence lay in Samson's betraying the secret of his divine 
 strength, and ' known ' has been rather clumsily inter- 
 preted as known to the Philistines, and hence to Harapha. 
 I venture to substitute this conjectural reading, which 
 
3o8 NOTES. 
 
 makes, I think, better sense, and gives a much more 
 pointed antithesis ( with * your force ' ). It must be 
 remembered that Milton did not see these words in print, 
 and if they were read aloud to him, ' mine own ' and ' my 
 known ' would have sounded alike. 
 
 1220. appellant. Challenger. The one challenged was 
 the 'defendant' Cf. II. Henry VI. II. iii. 49. 
 
 1222. thrice. Samson has previously thrice defied Ha- 
 rapha (1. 1123, 1152, 1174), but he speaks now as if for the 
 third* and last time ; the thrice-repeated challenge of 
 chivalry being doubtless in the poet's mind. 
 
 1223. of small enforce. Requiring little force. 
 
 1226. Todd quotes Vincentio Saviolo, Of Honor and 
 Honorable Quarrels (London, 1595), to the effect that the 
 challenges of traitors, robbers, etc., are to be refused, 
 because a man who should fight with them would be 
 ' making himself e equall with dishonourable persons.' 
 
 1231. Baal-zebub. The god of Ekron (II. Kings i. 2). 
 Ekron was a city of the Philistines (1. 98). 
 
 1234. bring up thy van. Bring up thy line of battle; as 
 if Harapha were an army. 
 
 1235. The cadence of this line has been caught exactly 
 by Tennyson in a verse of completely different mood : 
 ' Our hoards are little, but our hearts are great' (Marriage 
 of Geraint). 
 
 1238. vast. Belongs with * bulk.' 
 
 1239. structure. Cf. 1, 1069. 
 
 1242. Ashtaroth. Cf. Nativ. 200, note, p. 191. 
 
 1245. unconscionable. Out of all knowledge ; very great. 
 Literally, the word means not able to be grasped by 
 conscience, — * conscience ' having its lost meaning of 
 1 knowledge.' 
 
 1248. five sons. Cf. 1. 1068, note, p. 305. 
 
 1266. it may. That it may. 
 mine. My ruin. 
 
 1268. comely. Becoming, appropriate. This ode sends 
 
SAMSON' AGONISTES. 3°9 
 
 one's thoughts irresistibly to such men as Cromwell (' To 
 peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed'), and 
 Milton himself (' They also serve who only stand and 
 wait'). 
 
 1277. ammunition. Preparation for war. Not used else- 
 where in Milton's verse. 
 
 1278. feats of war defeats. Such plays upon words seem 
 not to appeal to our modern taste, but they were frequent 
 in Elizabethan English. 
 
 1279. Cf., e. £-., the sonnet On Fairfax 5 : 'Thy firm, 
 unshaken virtue/ 
 
 1233. expedition. Expeditiousness. 
 1286. defence. Ability to defend themselves. 
 1288. saints. The Republican Independents so called 
 themselves (Percival).. 
 
 1298. Labouring. Causing to labor. 
 1303. quaint. Strange, curious. 
 
 1307. voluble. Rapidly uttered. 
 
 1308. Ebrews. Masson notes that Milton so spells the 
 noun, spelling the adjective ' Hebrew.' As the word is 
 used but five times in Milton's verse, this distinction 
 is probably purely accidental. 
 
 1309. remark. Distinguish. 
 
 1312. triumph. Public celebration, procession. Cf. 
 LAll. 120. 
 
 13 1 3. human rate. The amount that a man might be 
 expected to have. 
 
 1317. heartened. With 'refreshments,' Percival suggests. 
 fresh-clad. Cf. 1. 1616. 
 
 1320. law. The second commandment {Exodus xx. 4-6). 
 
 1323-5. The sports referred to here are the familiar 
 English pastimes. Gymnic is gymnastic ; antics are buf- 
 foons ; mummers, those w r ho took part in the Christmas 
 pantomimes, or in dumb-shows ; mimics, actors. An 
 interesting description of mummers may be found in 
 Hardy's The Return of the Native, Bk. ii. ch. iv. and v. 
 
3IO NOTES. 
 
 1333. Regard thyself. Have a care for thyself. 
 
 1334. my conscience. Rather ought I regard my con- 
 science. 
 
 1342. joined. Enjoined. 
 
 1344. Brooks. It brooks. 
 
 1346. I regret what will follow from your obstinacy. 
 
 1361. Besides how vile. Besides being so vile. 
 
 1369. the sentence. That just uttered by the chorus. 
 
 1374. man prefer. To prefer man ; following * venturing.' 
 
 1375. Set. To set ; as in preceding line. 
 x 377-9- Thyer notes II. Kings v. 18-19. 
 
 1382. rousing motions. Cf. ' Divine impulsion prompt- 
 ing ' (1. 422). 
 
 1387. aught of presage. Any power to presage. 
 
 1396. engines. Implements, contrivances. 
 
 1404-7. Seemingly spoken to the messenger as a justifi- 
 cation for the changed attitude. 
 
 1408-9. These lines, spoken to the chorus, connect in 
 sense with 1403, as is shown by the construction : I am 
 content to go, but not to comply in anything scandalous, 
 etc. 
 
 1410. resolution. To go. 
 
 1411-1412. The Officer speaks here somewhat out of the 
 line of his duty, althoiigh the speech is in accord with 
 Manoa's words, 1466-1470. 
 
 1412. favour. A noun. 
 
 141 8. lordliest. Milton shows here a certain philologic 
 instinct for the derivation of a word whose meaning may 
 have shifted. Cf. Comus 325, 748-9, for 'courtesy' and 
 1 homely.' 
 
 1419. Cf. Lycidas 113-121. 
 
 1420. aught. At all. 
 
 1421-2. To Milton it seemed a profanation of the Sab- 
 bath to encourage (as had been done both by James I. and 
 Charles I.) the people to ' recreations and sports on the 
 lord's day.' Cf. Of Reformation , b. ii, 
 
SAMSON AGONISTES. 311 
 
 1426. Whether this is the last, etc. 
 
 143 1. May He send thee, etc. 
 
 1433. after his message told. The same construction is 
 in Comus 48. 
 
 1442. Cf. 327. 
 
 1448. Several editors note that come is used where we 
 should say 'go ' ; but the text represents the lords' point 
 of view : it was their order that Samson should come to 
 them. 
 
 1453- what. In what. 
 
 1457. attempted. Appealed to. 
 
 1463. Milton's flings at the relationship between the 
 Royalists and prelacy are frequent. That they passed the 
 press-censorship would be amusing had not the whole sub- 
 ject been of such intimate concern to Milton. This speech 
 of Manoa's without doubt reflects the several attitudes of 
 those whom the Restoration put into power. 
 
 1469. beneath their fears. Beneath fearing. 
 
 1470. The rest of the punishment it would be mag- 
 nanimity to remit. 
 
 1471. convenient. Proper. 
 
 1479. richest. A point made by Josephus (not in the 
 scriptural narrative) : * Without dispute, the principal per- 
 son of his country. ' 
 
 1481. fixed. Determined. 
 
 1484. quit. As in 509, implying a release or acquittal of 
 debt. Manoa is ready to forego his patrimony, releasing 
 it to the lords for his son's ransom. 
 
 1490, With this speech compare Dalila's protestations on 
 the same theme, 923-7. 
 
 1507. as next. As having, because of tribal relation- 
 ship, the next best right to hope for and enjoy Samson's 
 deliverance. 
 
 1 512. inhabitation. Inhabitants, community : abstract 
 for concrete, as not infrequently in Milton. 
 
 1 5 14. at the utmost point. To the very last degree. 
 
312 NOTES. 
 
 1 5 15. ruin. The word is here used in its literal meaning 
 of ' falling ' (of a building). 
 
 1527-8. eye-sight . . . restored. The Chorus repeats 
 Manoa's hope (1503) ; but it is open to question whether 
 such emphasis on a false clue be in keeping with the 
 dramatic requirements of the present situation. 
 
 1529. dole. The word has two meanings : * grief/ and 
 ' that which is dealt out ' ; doubtless Milton, while mean- 
 ing the former, had some sense of the latter in his mind. 
 
 1535. subscribe. Assent. 
 
 1537. Of good or bad. Supply ' news ' or ' fortune.' 
 
 1538. baits. Stops to bait (feed) the horses. 
 1554. needs. Is needed. 
 
 1557. sum. The last or main thing. 
 
 1567. with too rude irruption. Breaking out too rudely. 
 
 1569. them. News, really a plural. 
 
 1574- windy. Empty. 
 
 1576. Editors recall a not dissimilar passage in Shakes- 
 peare : a frost ' that bites the first-born infants of the 
 spring' (L. L. L. I. i. 101). 
 
 1585. at variance with himself. Not, as Verity^explains 
 it, 4 What brought him among his foes so soon after his 
 refusal to go ? ' but ' What turned him against himself ? ' 
 
 1594. Eye-witness. Having been eye-witness. 
 
 1596. Occasions. Business affairs. 
 
 1603. minded. Made up my mind. 
 
 1605. Milton's description of the building is not, I take 
 it, an effort to follow descriptions of any ancient buildings, 
 but merely an attempt to bring before the eye a building 
 that might architecturally comply with the needs of the 
 situation. The comments of some of the editors would 
 seem, therefore, to be wasted erudition. The few depar- 
 tures from the scriptural account are not, I think, of great 
 significance. That Milton calls the building a theatre, in- 
 stead of a 'house' {Judges xvi. 26, 27, 29, 30) onry indi- 
 cates the literal use of ' theatre ' (place for spectators), 
 
SAM SOX AGOXISTES. 3 l 3 
 
 not its acquired meaning of a place in which irama is 
 presented. That he speaks of the crowd outside (not 
 
 spoken of in the Bible', may 2 : of the necessity tc 
 
 provide some place for the Messenger to be. That the 
 building was 'half-round' and net wholly enclosed is 
 doubtless due to the poet's necessity to account for the 
 
 view of the sports obtainable from the roof. Milton's con- 
 
 accidental ; or, as Verity suggests, toe Puritan poet may 
 have intended to indicate that the people were not to be 
 involved in the destruction of the aristocracy. It seems 
 best, however, to take the description us simply as pos- 
 sible. Its magnificence is its own ample warrant : i: 
 needs no inner meaning. 
 
 160S. sort. Rank, quality. 
 in order. In their proper rank ; or. with purpose. 
 
 1610. banks. Benches. 
 
 1616. livery. C/. 15 17. 
 
 1619. cataphracts. Armed men on armed horses. 
 spears. Bearers of spears. 
 
 1627. stupendious. So spelled here, and in P. L. x. 351. 
 
 1637. as one who prayed. Note hew unely Milton has 
 caught the spirit o: the situation while strictly preserving 
 Ifessenger's point of view. It is even a question 
 whether Milton has aot equalled the majesty of the scrip- 
 tural accoi hieh gives the prayer itself, and the 
 4 great matter' that Samson 'in his mind 
 namely, with his own death to bring destruction on the 
 Philistines. Verity's objection that 'eyes fast fixed' is 
 not a very lescription of the blind Sai 
 seems rather remote. Milton himself did noi 
 blind. 
 
 1645. strike. The double meaning in se is 
 
 doubly forcible. 
 
 1653. or priests. Keightley's conjecture Ifilton 
 
 may have dictated ' and priests ' is needless. As it stands, 
 
3*4 NOTES. 
 
 the text implies that all, whoever they were, lords, coun- 
 sellors or priests, were involved in the general ruin. 
 
 1665. not willingly. That is, not seeking self-slaughter, 
 but accepting it as a necessary condition of the general 
 destruction. 
 
 1666. dire necessity. Milton is not, I think, speaking of 
 necessity in the Greek sense (ai>&yKrj) and calling it ' dire '; 
 it is rather that this especial necessity was dire. If the 
 former, however, the tone of the passage seems not Hebraic. 
 
 1669. Here, and before 1. 1687, the 1671 edition has only 
 Semichor. The figures 1 and 2, respectively, are prefixed 
 for the sake of exactness. 
 
 167 1. regorged. Eaten to excess ; re- being intensive 
 (Percival). 
 
 1673. Dread. Cf. Isaiah viii. 13. 
 
 1674. Silo. Shiloh, where the tabernacle then was 
 (Judges xviii. 1). 
 
 1676. who. The spirit of phrenzy. 
 
 1682. fond. As in 1. 812. 
 
 1685. to sense reprobate. The adjective, which means 
 4 abandoned,' is in parallel construction with ' Insensate.' 
 
 1688. thought extinguished quite. Supposed to be made 
 entirely harmless. 
 
 1690. virtue. Strength. 
 
 1692-5. And as . . . but as. This passage has caused 
 perplexity. The assault of Samson is compared to that of 
 a dragon and to that of an eagle. Inasmuch as the latter 
 is preceded by 'but,' some commentators have supposed 
 that there must be an opposition, and that therefore Milton 
 must have dictated, ' Not as an evening dragon . . . but 
 as an eagle.' This whole difficulty is a superficial one, as 
 various commentators, beginning with Thyer, have shown. 
 Samson came like a serpent (dragon), in the dark, the 
 tame fowl suspecting nothing; then, like an eagle of Jove, 
 he bolted thunder on their heads. Milton merely changes 
 his metaphor to suit his thought. 
 
QUESTION'S AND COMMENTS. 3*5 
 
 1695. villatic. Of the farmhouse. Richardson cited 
 Pliny's villaticas alites. 
 
 1696. cloudless thunder. Thunder out of a clear sky. 
 
 1699. self-begotten bird. The phoenix, that dying, pro- 
 duced from its ashes a successor; there being no other of 
 its kind in the world. 
 
 1700. embost. Embosked, hidden in the woods. 
 
 1702. holocaust. A whole burnt-offering. 
 
 1703. The simile may end with line 1702, in which case 
 this line is spoken of ' Virtue '; or it may end with this line. 
 
 teemed. Produced; a participle. 
 
 1704. revives. The subject of the verb is ' Virtue,' 1697. 
 
 1706. her. Virtue's. 
 
 1707. A secular bird. As a secular bird, as a phoenix. 
 1 Secular ' here means ' living for centuries.' 
 
 1709. quit. Acquitted. Cf. 509. 
 
 1713. Caphtor. Crete, whence the Philistines were said 
 to have come. Cf. Amos ix. 7; Deut. ii. 23. 
 
 1727. lavers. Cf. Comus 838, note, p. 248. 
 
 1728. with what speed. With all possible speed. 
 1730-3. Cf. Judges xvi. 31. 
 
 1737. legend. Narrative. 
 
 1746. dispose. Disposal. 
 
 1749. hide his face. Percival notes that the scriptural 
 use of this expression commonly indicates God's dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 1 75 1. in place. Appropriately, fittingly. We use the 
 opposite expression ' out of place ' for an ill-timed remark, 
 etc. 
 
 1755- acquist. Acquisition. 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 The following questions and comments are added with 
 some diffidence, for a good teacher is in no need of sugges- 
 tions regarding the kind of questions to be put to a class. 
 It is hoped, however, that the questions may help to 
 encourage the student to think about what he is studying. 
 As their main purpose is to arouse intellectual curiosity, 
 the questions will be found, at times, to be such as will 
 admit of no easy and definitive answer. To such ques- 
 tions it is not assumed that the student's answers will 
 possess critical value, but the time spent in coming to a 
 conclusion will not be wasted. The questions are 
 obviously not exhaustive: those asked at first are not 
 repeated, for the teacher may readily frame similar ques- 
 tions for every poem. In the main, the order of difficulty 
 is observed. 
 
 PSALMS CXIV. AND CXXXVI. 
 
 Compare these paraphrases with the psalms themselves, 
 noting the changes which Milton made. 
 
 Which opinion do you prefer: — Masson's statement 
 {Life, vol. I. p. 97) that the verses l have some poetic merit. 
 They are clear, firmly-worded, and harmonious ' ; or, the 
 statement that they are good rhetoric rather than good 
 poetry? In the first edition of Masson's Life, I. p. 67, the 
 statement ran: ' have real poetic merit.' Was the change 
 judicious? 
 
 Milton's youthful imagination shows itself in the adjec- 
 tives (why in the adjectives?) so liberally sprinkled 
 through the paraphrases. Some of the adjectives are 
 
 316 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 3 T 7 
 
 much better than others: point out those that seem to you 
 apt. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT. 
 
 Note on this poem and elsewhere constructions unlike 
 those that are familiar to us. E. g. 1. i. * no sooner 
 blown but blasted'; 1. 2. ' Summer's chief honour, if thou 
 hadst outlasted'; 1. 5. 'amorous on'; 1. 6. 'thought to 
 kiss' ; 1. 13. 'long-uncoupled bed'; 1. 48. ' and thou some 
 goddess fled'; 1. 66. 'To slake his wrath whom sin hath 
 made our foe.' 
 
 What feelings may be looked for in an elegiac poem ? 
 To what extent are they present here ? Cf. the comment 
 on Lycidas, p. 328. 
 
 Is Milton's choice of words felicitous or only careful ? 
 Does his rather frequent use of double adjectives like 
 ' swift-rushing ' signify anything ? Milton employs in 
 Lycidas 8-9 a repetition nearly like that in this poem 
 25-26: which repetition is the more effective? What do 
 the last two lines of the poem mean ? 
 
 AT A VACATION EXERCISE. 
 
 In this early essay in English verse Milton has ranged 
 from grave to gay. The chief interest is not a poetical 
 one, after all, although there is at least one passage of 
 sound and good poetry in it. In what other ways is the 
 poem interesting? What passage is good poetry? 
 Observe that Milton holds to the couplet effect: that is, 
 after most of the couplets there is a pause in sense, 
 indicated by a punctuation mark. In only four or five 
 cases does the sense proceed without break to the next 
 couplet. This latter phenomenon is called enjambeinent, 
 or a 'run-over,' or 'flow-over,' line. It also occurs, of 
 course, within the couplet. What would be the effect 
 if such run-over lines occurred more frequently? Read 
 a page or two of Keats's Endymion to see what that 
 effect is. 
 
318 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 Can any conclusion as to Milton's sense of humor be 
 drawn from this poem? his conception of poetry? the 
 kind of subjects that appealed to him? It is important to 
 note (why?) that Milton not only regards the English 
 language as needing no apology, but also recognizes its 
 fitness for a great theme. 
 
 ODE ON THE NATIVITY. 
 
 What is the effect of beginning with the four introduc- 
 tory stanzas, instead of immediately with the Hymn? 
 The beginning of the Hymn carries out a pretty fancy 
 rather than a very deep or serious thought; and the fancy 
 itself has a slight incongruity. Nature, in awe, doffs her 
 gaudy trim, and then, in guilty shame, pleads for a cover- 
 ing of innocence; as if the poet had first thought of earth's 
 bareness as the appropriate laying aside of all ornament, 
 and then, as an afterthought growing out of the figure in 
 1- 35-36, had regarded the same bareness as a revelation 
 of earth's sin. This is to look at the lines more curiously, 
 doubtless, than Milton intended, and yet some stanzas 
 (e. g., stanza xiii.) bear the test better than do others. 
 Milton's early poems contain figures whose power ranges 
 from loftiness to far-fetched triviality, — conceits, we call 
 figures of the latter kind. Can you tell, in this ode, 
 where Milton seems to be writing in the deepest earnest- 
 ness and where he is dealing lightly with a pleasant 
 fancy ? Is such variation a blemish or an added interest? 
 How much of the poem deals with the scene of the 
 Nativity itself ? Milton is evidently inspired by the far- 
 reaching significance of the birth of Christ: wherein is 
 this significance shown to be ? In other words, what 
 aspects of the subject chiefly attract Milton ? What other 
 aspects might he have treated? 1. 7. Does 'with' belong 
 with 'work,' or 'peace'? 47. Why ' olive green'? 50. 
 Why 4 amorous ' ? 52. Allusion to what historical fact ? 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 3 X 9 
 
 108. ' Happier ' than what? 143-4, note (p. 190). Was the 
 change a good one ? 
 
 UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. 
 
 Is the rather self-contained and intellectual tone of this 
 poem due to the absence of feeling or the repression of 
 feeling? or is neither explanation adequate ? Are the two 
 stanzas of equal interest to you? The first five lines of 
 stanza i. seem to have more charm than the next four 
 lines: is this your opinion ? 1. 17. ' For' implies a reason: 
 trace the progress of thought that makes the reason (what 
 is it?) adequate. 21. ' great covenant ': what covenant? 
 
 THE PASSION. 
 
 One may, respectfully enough, agree with Milton that 
 the poem is a failure. Its incongruous mixture of sacred 
 and profane, serious and fanciful, leaves an unpleasant 
 impression on the reader. There are certain mechanical 
 virtues to admire in it. The verse flows smoothly, the 
 words sound well, the expression is clear and compact. 
 1. 6-7. Explain the appropriateness of the figure. 29-35. 
 This stanza is possibly the sort of thing that Milton was 
 1 nothing satisfied with.' What is the trouble with it ? 
 
 MAY MORNING. 
 
 Note the change of metre which follows the change 
 from the description to the invocation. Note, too, the 
 happy simplicity of the words. Is the ending abrupt ? 
 
 ON SHAKESPEAR. 
 
 It is always interesting to know what one great poet 
 thought of another; and although the Milton who wrote 
 these lines was by no means a great poet at the time, the 
 lines remain as almost the only word of his on his greater 
 
3 2 ° QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 predecessor. Compare with this poem the two inces- 
 santly quoted lines in U Allegro (133-4): 
 
 '. . . sweetest Shakespear, Fancy's child, 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild.' 
 
 Which of the two tributes seem to you to contain the 
 more satisfying conception of Shakespeare's real power ? 
 Compare also with this poem Matthew Arnold's, Brown- 
 ing's, and Swinburne's sonnets on Shakespeare. When a 
 poet chooses a great subject for a brief poem, it is always 
 instructive to note the phase of the subject that seems to 
 him most worthy of the emphasis he puts upon it, by 
 singling it out for treatment. 
 
 ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER J ANOTHER ON THE SAME. 
 
 Is the editor's comment just: that these poems are not 
 in very good taste ? What does the expression, ' in good 
 taste ' mean to you ? 
 
 MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER. 
 
 Is Milton's tone as sympathetic as in his poem on the 
 death of his niece, the 'fair infant'? Is the metre 
 adapted to the expression of sad or tender thoughts ? 
 
 L* ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 One must avoid the notion that L Allegro and 7/ 
 Penseroso are diametric opposites. The supposed dia- 
 metric contrast arises chiefly from the preludes, rather 
 than from the poems taken as a whole. When the 
 joys of cheerfulness and of meditation are compared 
 in themselves, they are seen to be not irreconcilable; they 
 may easily enough be different moods of the same man. 
 It is not needful, nor, perhaps, possible, to regard all 
 of the descriptions as pertaining to some one place or 
 season. 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 32 1 
 
 The poems, then, are not studies of two different kinds 
 of men. The theme is really a consideration, a balancing, 
 of two kinds of pleasure, — the pleasure that grows out of 
 good spirits, and the deeper pleasure that grows out of 
 good thinking. The latter is naturally that towards which 
 a man of Milton's fine fibre would most incline. There- 
 fore upon this pleasure is laid the greater stress. 
 
 L? Allegro. — 1.6. Why jealous wings ? 28. What image 
 have we in mind when we speak of a person's face as 
 ' wreathed in smiles ' ? 34. Why should this expression 
 have passed into familiar use? 43. Is the image apt? 
 49-52. Is Milton's description of familiar little things of 
 this sort as effective as his description (59-62) of the sun- 
 rise, for instance ? 73-74. Does the movement of these two 
 lines resemble the movement of the next two? Read 
 them aloud and note if your voice pauses in the same 
 place in each line. Does the sound of the lines seem to 
 suit the subject? 84. What is gained by the use of such 
 adjectives as 'savoury, 5 in this line, ' neat-handed' (86), 
 'jocund' (94), 'drudging' (105), 'shadowy' (108), 'whis- 
 pering' (116), 'haunted' (130), * eating ' (135), 'melting' 
 (142)? 151. In brief, what are ' these delights'? 
 
 // Penseroso. 1. Does Milton mean that all joys are vain 
 and deluding, or does he disapprove only of such joys as 
 are, in themselves, vain and deluding ? 13. What is gained 
 by this ingenious explanation of the somber hue of Mel- 
 ancholy? 24. Why is Saturn called 'solitary'? 31. The 
 poet's vision of the coming of Melancholy and her train is, 
 of course, markedly different from his vision of the coming 
 of Mirth and her followers: how, then, is this fact to be 
 reconciled with the statement that the speaker in the 
 first poem is not the opposite of the speaker in the second ? 
 46. What does this line mean ? Would it be fair to call it 
 a foreshadowing of Wordsworth's expression, — ' plain 
 living and high thinking'? 50. Does 'trim' define some 
 one kind of garden Milton may have in mind, or does it 
 
322 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 characterize his general notion of gardens ? 75. Does 
 ' wide-watered ' add anything to 'far-off'? 76. Is l roar ' 
 an expressive word for the sound of the 4 far-off curfew ' ? 
 77. What must ' air ' mean here ? 80. What does this 
 line mean ? 88. It will be seen that Milton's philosophical 
 reading is not so much melancholy as serious. He also 
 reads tragedy, however : does his conception of it seem 
 melancholy ? As far as you can tell from his words, what 
 kind of poetry attracted Milton? 127. What difference in 
 tone between Milton's description of the rainy morning, 
 and Longfellow's 'dark and dreary' day: 'It rains and 
 the wind is never weary '? Does this comparison throw 
 any light on II Penseroso's melancholy? 151. Does Mil- 
 ton's description of music here and elsewhere (161-166) 
 tell what music is like, or does it merely tell how much 
 Milton likes music? Cf. Sol. Mus. p. 44. 175. What in 
 brief, are these pleasures? Is there any significance in 
 Milton's speaking of the ' delights ' of Mirth (L'All. 151) 
 and the ' pleasures ' of Melancholy? or is the second word 
 used merely to avoid a repetition of the first ? 
 
 AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 
 
 Note here, as in the following poem, the poet's tendency 
 to rise above the immediate demands of his subject. 
 Milton leaves one in no doubt as to the upward direction 
 of his thought. In these two poems to what extent are 
 the ideas similar ? what differences are there ? Is the con- 
 clusion of either one of the poems more majestic or more 
 appropriate than that of the other ? 
 
 ON TIME. 
 
 This poem is as sincere and sustained as The Passion 
 is unequal and artificial. Is this statement true ? What 
 effect has the varying length of the lines ? 1. 1. Why 
 s envious ' ? 
 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS, 3 2 3 
 
 ARCADES. 
 
 How can one tell whether this mask is given indoors or 
 out of doors, before or after dark? Is there a series of 
 incidents or but one main situation ? Does anything 
 happen between the first and second songs ? Are the 
 characteristics of those who sing or speak brought out 
 clearly ? How had Fame been lavish (1. 9) ? To whom 
 does the speech of the Genius pay compliment ? Does 
 the somewhat elaborate description of the Genius (44-67) 
 detract from the complimentary effect of the mask, or 
 does it emphasize it? Is the speech as poetical as the 
 lyrics? 1. 51. The last three words of this line are adjec- 
 tive, noun, adjective, — the two adjectives referring to 
 the one noun. In his Imaginary Conversation between 
 Southey and Landor, Landor says: * Milton was very 
 Italian, as you know, in his custom of adding a second 
 epithet after the substantive, where one had preceded it.' 
 Find other examples of this arrangement. Was Landor 
 right in thinking that a similar instance was to be found 
 in II Pens. 156 (Cf. note on that line, p. 216)? 
 
 COMUS. 
 
 Before the following questions are taken up, the entire 
 mask should be read. 
 
 At what points in the story (as Milton gives it) is your 
 interest strongest ? What parts of the action seem to you 
 the most important, so far as helping the story to its con- 
 clusion is concerned ? What situations (which we may 
 take to be those places in the plot, in which our interest 
 is centered in what may be going to happen) seem most 
 full of human interest ? Which persons are the most in- 
 teresting in themselves? Who cause things to happen? 
 Into what parts, or stages of action, do you think this 
 mask is divided (e. g. , the first conversation of the Lady 
 and Comus is one stage of the fiction, and makes an inter- 
 
324 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 esting situation)? Can any of these parts be grouped into 
 larger parts ? The more interesting moments might be 
 regarded as situations, the smaller parts as scenes, the 
 groups as acts. Do the several persons show enough 
 points of resemblance (in kind, character, or in what they 
 do) to warrant your placing them together in small groups, 
 or must they be regarded as separate in all these respects? 
 Do the persons who do the most appear most prominently 
 at the exciting times? What character could best be 
 spared, so far as the mere plot is concerned? Can you 
 say of any character that he or she could least be spared ? 
 Does anything happen that could be omitted without 
 affecting the story ? Can you say of anyone incident that 
 it is absolutely necessary in order that the story come to 
 its present conclusion? Upon what incidents does the 
 story depend? Upon what characters? What share have 
 these characters in these incidents ? How much time does 
 the action cover ? 
 
 First Scene. — In the first performance, as the Bridge- 
 water MS. indicates (the handwriting is probably Lawes's), 
 the mask does not open with the Spirit's speech, but with 
 a song by the Spirit. This song of twenty lines consists 
 of part of what is now the epilogue.* Why was the song 
 transferred to the beginning ? Why, do you suppose, did 
 Milton not leave it there ? 
 
 1-92. Note the long sentences of the opening speech: 
 what effect have they ? Is this speech plain and simple, 
 or elaborate ? Do the details make it clearer, or more 
 beautiful ? 
 
 *It begins, 'From the heavens now I fly,' instead of, 'To the ocean'; 
 omits the four lines, 'Along the crisped shades . . . bounties 
 bring ' ; inserts a line after the present line 995 ; omits the present 
 line 997 ; and ends with line 999, changed to 4 Where many a cherub 
 soft reposes.' In brief, this prologue looks like a revised and con- 
 densed form of the passage 976-101 1, but in reality it is much nearer 
 Milton's first draft of the epilogue (Cambridge MS.) than is the epi- 
 logue as it appears in print, or in the second 4raft (Cambridge MS.). 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 325 
 
 87. Does this mean that the swain, Thyrsis (who does 
 not himself appear in the mask), was gifted with super- 
 natural powers ? Or is it only a compliment to the musi- 
 cal skill of the shepherd ? Cf. 494-6. 
 
 93-144. In what ways, apart from the substance of the 
 thought, has Milton made this speech of Comus differ 
 from the preceding speech of the Spirit ? Is the language 
 more, or less, graceful ? 
 
 144. Is there a reason why this expression the ' light fan- 
 tastic round ' should be but rarely quoted, while ' light 
 fantastic toe ' (L'All. 34) is quoted so frequently? 
 
 145-169. Is this speech more dramatic than the preced- 
 ing speech ? 
 
 1 5 1-3. Is this said humorously or seriously ? 
 
 164-7. Is this statement enough to make the spectator 
 realize that the Lady sees Comus as if he wore rustic 
 garb ? What would be gained, or lost, if Comus, when he 
 1 fairly stepped aside,' should change his costume, as did 
 the Spirit ? 
 
 170-229. The former speeches were those of supernat- 
 ural beings; this is uttered by a human being: does Milton 
 indicate the difference in any other way than by letting 
 the Lady explain the situation in which she finds herself ? 
 From the way in which the various details and incidents 
 are described, can you tell anything about the character 
 of the speaker ? 
 
 230-243. Is this song beautiful in itself, or does it gain 
 much of its effect from being sung by the Lady at just this 
 point in the story ? 
 
 244-270. Does this speech show new qualities in Comus ? 
 
 246. Is this the kind of praise we might expect from 
 Comus? or is it Milton's compliment to Lady Alice Egerton? 
 
 267. Does Comus mean to flatter the Lady, or is he sin- 
 cere in thinking that she is perhaps a goddess ? 
 
 271-276. How does the Lady interpret the preceding 
 speech ? 
 
326 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 277-290. What is the effect of this single-line dialogue ? 
 
 291-330. Had the Lady any reason whatever to suspect 
 that Comus was deceiving her ? 
 
 321. Why does the Lady at once accept Comus' s offer to 
 conduct her to a ' loyal cottage ' ? Does she forget her 
 wish to know the ' readiest way ' (1. 305) to the place where 
 Comus says her brothers are ? 
 
 33 I- 358. These speeches are descriptive of what three 
 things (331-342, 342-349, 350-358)? In a drama, full of 
 action, these speeches would at least be condensed: could 
 they be dispensed with ? 
 
 358. Is this line in accord with 1. 352-3 and 1. 186 ? 
 
 359-3 8 5- What is the substance of this speech? Does it 
 explain what has gone before, or does it carry on the 
 story ? 
 
 369-371. Is this applicable to the Brothers themselves ? 
 
 385-407. Does this answer the preceding speech, or does 
 it introduce new ideas ? 
 
 404. Is this in accord with the speaker's first speech ? 
 
 407-417. Are new ideas introduced ? 
 
 412. Has the speaker characterized himself fairly? 
 
 418-475. What relation has this speech to the whole 
 mask? 
 
 476-493. Why are the speeches short? If you were 
 writing stage directions, in what parts of the dialogue 
 would you place the several ' hallos ' ? 
 
 494-512. Why are the speeches somewhat longer than 
 those preceding? Are the rhymes an advantage or are 
 they unnecessary ? 
 
 509-510. Is this a fair way of stating the case? Does 
 the speaker think that it is fair ? 
 
 513-580. Is this speech as characteristic of the speaker 
 as was the opening speech of the mask ? In answering 
 this question, consider not merely the language and the 
 things spoken of, but also the attitude the speaker seems 
 to have to the several subjects of his speech. Remember 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 327 
 
 that the Spirit is now speaking as if he were Thyrsis, the 
 shepherd. Does he speak as a shepherd would speak? 
 Was Thyrsis an ordinary shepherd ? Do you see any rea- 
 son to regard this second account (520-539) of the doings 
 of Comus (Cf. 59-77) as an artistic or an inartistic thing? 
 Which account seems the better one, or can they be 
 compared ? 
 
 523-530. Is this enough to justify 1. 57? 
 
 571. Does this mean that the Spirit saw Comus as if dis- 
 guised,, or does Milton say this in order to have the account 
 seem plausible to the Brothers, or was Comus really dis- 
 guised, after all ? 
 
 580-658. Does this dialogue advance the action? Does 
 the Elder Brother's speech (584-599) repeat his former 
 arguments, or add new ones ? Is the long speech of the 
 Spirit's as elaborate in language as were his other long 
 speeches ? 
 
 659-705. Is this part of the dialogue complete in itself, or 
 does it lead up to a new situation ? Does the Lady refuse 
 Comus's glass because she is wise, or because she is good ? 
 
 706-755. Does Comus change his tone? Does he still 
 attempt to deceive the Lady, or to justify his actual 
 views, or both ? 
 
 756-799. What relation has this speech to the whole 
 mask? 
 
 800-813. Does Comus's tone change here? 
 
 801. Does this line throw any light on the question 
 asked concerning 1. 246 ? 
 
 805. Does he dissemble? 
 
 814-889. In this long and varied speech of the Spirit's 
 how many kinds of poetry do you find? Does the lan- 
 guage change with the metre ? 
 
 815. Is there a dramatic reason why the Brothers did not 
 seize the wand ? 
 
 824-857. Does Milton here, and elsewhere in Comus, tell 
 a story well ? What other stories are told ? 
 
328 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 859-866. Does this song resemble in any respect the 
 Lady's song (230-243) ? Does it gain anything from the 
 situation, or it is complete in itself? 
 
 867-889. Is this part of the adjuration like the preceding 
 part? 
 
 890-901. The same question may be asked regarding 
 this song as was asked of the other songs. 
 
 902-921. Is this brief dialogue more or less dramatic, 
 more or less lyric, than the forty lines preceding? Why 
 does not the Lady offer thanks ? And why do the Lady 
 and her brothers say nothing from the flight of Comus to 
 the end of the mask ? 
 
 922-957. What two things (922-937, and 938-957) are the 
 subject of this speech ? Is either one more poetic or more 
 dramatic than the other ? 
 
 958-975. Is either of these songs more dramatic than the 
 other? Where are the father and mother? 
 
 976-1023. Is this a repetition of any part of the Spirit's 
 opening speech ? Is it like that speech in tone ? Do the 
 Lady and her brothers find out who the shepherd was ? 
 To whom is this speech addressed ? Is the ending 
 effective ? 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 As one takes up the serious study of Lycidas, he may 
 not unnaturally ask himself whether or not the purpose of 
 an elegy is best fulfilled by the use of such pastoral 
 imagery as Milton employs. To many persons an elegy 
 is an expression of personal sorrow, and can be effective 
 only when written in the most direct and simple way. 
 Artificiality in an elegy is to such persons peculiarly 
 repugnant; and the imagery of shepherds and flocks seems 
 to them highly artificial, and Lycidas, therefore, not as 
 sincere a poem as (for example) In Memorzam. Dr. 
 Johnson very vehemently held that Lycidas was'devoid of 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 3 2 9 
 
 real passion, ' for passion runs not after remote allu- 
 sions. . . Where there is leisure for fiction there is little 
 grief.' It may be said in reply that the pastoral form for 
 elegies had been sanctioned by centuries of usage. The 
 pastoral form was, to be sure, a conventional one; but it 
 is natural to speak in conventional form, although such 
 utterance may not sound natural to an age which has 
 dropped the particular convention. To us as well as to Dr. 
 Johnson, Lycidas doubtless sounds less like an expression 
 of personal feeling than it did to Milton. But there is no 
 reason to question a poet's sincerity because he uses 
 imagery to convey his meaning, even though the image 
 be prolonged through the entire poem. The image may 
 not please the reader, but that is another matter. 
 
 It may be added that we have no reason to think that 
 Milton was deeply affected by the death of King. Cer- 
 tainly he could have felt no such sorrow as he felt at the 
 death of his close friend, Charles Diodati, in whose 
 memory he wrote a Latin elegy, Epitaphium Damonzs, — 
 also in pastoral form. Lycidas shows us clearly enough 
 that the direct expression of grief is not the sole 
 purpose of elegy. Another purpose may be to offer a 
 tribute of respect. To write something that would have 
 met with the friend's approbation is as sincere (though 
 not as direct) a way of showing respect as is telling the 
 actual state of one's feelings. The poet who writes an 
 elegy must be left free to speak in the way that to him 
 seems best. Milton preferred the pastoral form; Tenny- 
 son, the direct utterance of In Mentor iam : they spoke 
 not merely in different ways, but they said different 
 things; their elegies would doubtless not have been suc- 
 cessful had each poet tried the other method, but the 
 poems as they stand are among the best in our literature. 
 
 Does the passage on the ' corrupted Clergy ' (1. 113-131) 
 add to the strength or impressiveness of the poem, or 
 would the tribute to King be more satisfying without it ? 
 
33° QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 What are two or three of the qualities in this poem that 
 may have helped to make it famous ? 
 
 THE SONNETS. 
 
 The structure of Milton's sonnets should be examined 
 carefully. A sonnet consists of fourteen iambic pentam- 
 eter lines, which may be divided into two groups : the 
 first eight lines constitute the octave, the last six the ses- 
 tet. Strictly speaking, the arrangement of rhymes should 
 follow the usage of Petrarch, but many sonnets, notably 
 those of Spenser and of Shakespeare, do not follow the 
 Italian model. Milton uses the Italian form, which may 
 be indicated briefly, thus : — the first, fourth, fifth, and 
 eighth lines rhyme ; the second, third, sixth, and seventh : 
 in the sestet some variation is permitted, one arrange- 
 ment being one rhyme for lines nine, eleven, and thir- 
 teen, and one for lines ten, twelve, and fourteen ; and 
 another, lines nine and twelve rhyming, lines ten and 
 thirteen, and lines eleven and fourteen. Reduced to 
 rhyme-formula, the octave is always abbaabba \ the 
 sestet cdcdcd, or cdecde or, indeed, any arrangement 
 of either two or three rhymes that avoids a couplet at the 
 end ; although the avoidance of a couplet is not as impera- 
 tive as it is sometimes said to be. The rhyme formula of 
 the Nightingale sonnet is abbaabba c dc dc d \ that 
 to Lady Margaret Ley abbaabba c d e c d e ; that 
 On Age of Twenty- Three abbaabba c d e d c e ; that 
 On Fairfax abbaabba c dd c d c ; that to Cromwell 
 abbaabba cddcee (couplet ending). 
 
 Are there any sonnets of Milton's whose rhyme-formula 
 is unlike those just noted ? Does the sense usually come 
 to a pause at the end of the octave, or is it carried over 
 into the sestet? In the cases where octave and sestet 
 seem to be kept apart in sense, do there seem to be separate 
 functions for the two parts ; i. e. y does the octave or the 
 the sestet contain, for example, the gist of the subject? 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. $$t 
 
 does either embody illustration, or conclusion ? and does 
 the octave or the sestet embody the best part of the 
 sonnet? Which sonnets may have their substance ex- 
 pressed in a few words ? Name some of the qualities of 
 the sonnets. Is Milton more effective when he is praising 
 or when he is denouncing? Apart from those sonnets 
 that are uttered in praise or indignation, in what atti- 
 tudes of mind does Milton write? Wordsworth called 
 Milton's sonnets * Soul-animating strains — alas, too few ! ' 
 and Samuel Johnson, in speaking of them, said (as usually 
 quoted) : K Milton, Madam, was a genius that could cut a 
 Colossus from a rock, but could not carve heads upon 
 cherry-stones ■ (Bo swell's Life, 13 June, 1784). Which man 
 was right ? 
 
 SAMSON AGONISTES. 
 
 Before these questions are taken up, the entire drama 
 should be read. 
 
 What points in the scriptural narrative has Milton 
 developed most fully? Which of these points are set forth 
 in action, and which are merely told about? What points 
 does Milton leave untouched ? Are they essential parts of 
 the complete story ? Does Milton leave out any characters 
 that are important in the scriptural narrative? Do the 
 characters he introduces play important parts ? Are any 
 incidents introduced that are not in the Biblical account? 
 At what time of day does the drama begin ? When does 
 it end ? Does the place change ? 
 
 The drama falls into several divisions (separated by 
 choral odes): can you indicate these divisions, by pointing 
 out the several stages by which the play proceeds ? What 
 is done in these several stages, or steps, and what persons 
 carry on the action in each step ? Milton says in his 
 preface: ' It suffices if the whole drama be found not pro- 
 duced beyond the fifth act ' ; but he intentionally makes no 
 
33 2 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 specific statement to indicate the limits of each of the five 
 acts conventionally belonging to a tragedy: do the 
 divisions spoken of just above seem to you to correspond 
 to the five acts ? The Chorus at times speaks in a lyric 
 vein while the action pauses; at times joins in the regular 
 spoken conversation, thus taking part in the action; and 
 at times has a lyric, rather than a spoken, part in the 
 action: can you, as you read over the parts assigned to 
 the Chorus, discriminate these three functions ? Does the 
 Chorus do anything else ? 
 
 1-114. This long speech (longer than any speech in 
 Comns) is technically the prologue of the drama. 
 4 Prologue ' is used here in the classic, not the modern, 
 sense of the word: what is the difference? What seems 
 to be the dramatic purpose of this prologue ? How does it 
 compare in function (and in language) with the opening 
 speech in Comus? 
 
 1. To whom is Samson talking? How long does he talk 
 to this person? Do you suppose that the person remains 
 and listens, remains and does not listen, or does not 
 remain ? Derive your answer from the text, if possible. 
 
 36. Why does it seem not inappropriate for Samson to 
 speak of his own strength as ' glorious'? 'Cf. 1. 199-200. 
 
 41. In view of the note on this line (p. 287), do you 
 think Landor's punctuation preferable to the one adopted 
 by the present editor? Read the line aloud, carefully 
 noting the effect of the different punctuations: what is the 
 effect? 
 
 66-109. With Samson's lament over his blindness, com- 
 pare Milton's words when he speaks of his own blindness 
 (P. L. iii. 21-55). Can you express the difference in tone ? 
 
 no. This marks the coming of the Chorus. What is 
 the effect of Samson's thinking that they mayo.be the 
 Philistines, his enemies? 
 
 115-175. Does the Chorus intend Samson to hear? 
 What does the Chorus tell us about Samson that would 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 333 
 
 have been inappropriate in the opening speech? What 
 has happened thus far ? 
 
 151-169. Does the Chorus view Samson's imprisonment 
 and blindness sympathetically or ' philosophically ' ? 
 
 176-292. How far does this dialogue advance the action? 
 (This same question applies to each dialogue in the drama 
 and therefore will not be formally repeated.) 
 
 178-186. Note the partly personal, partly general, tone 
 of the Chorus's speech: this is in accord with the Greek 
 habit of making the Chorus take part in the action and 
 yet, as it were, view the action as if aloof from it. Does 
 the Chorus say anything that mere friends of Samson 
 would be unlikely to say ? 
 
 195. Is there any real incongruity between this line and 
 the half-dozen lines beginning with 1. 66 ? Which passage 
 truly expresses Samson's feeling ? 
 
 214. ' Besides ' what ? 
 
 241. Is Samson's scrupulousness, in placing the blame 
 where it belongs, a sign of strength or weakness ? 
 
 263. Why is the term ' trivial weapon ' used here, 
 instead of ' ass's jaw,' as in 1. 1095 ? Cf. 142-3, where both 
 methods of expression find place. What difference of 
 speaker and situation in these three places ? 
 
 293-325. Does this expression of the Chorus depend 
 upon what has gone before, or prepare for what is next 
 to come? To whom does the Chorus seem to be speak- 
 ing? Had the previous conversation reached a natural 
 end, or does this ode interrupt Samson's very brief 
 speech ? 
 
 326-651. Is Manoa or Samson the chief figure of this 
 part of the drama ? Upon what basis may such a ques- 
 tion be answered ? 
 
 340-3 Is Manoa's sorrowful surprise like that of the 
 Chorus (1. 117-150) ? 
 
 361-367. Compare with 1. 23-42. What difference in the 
 way two persons say practically the same thing ? 
 
334 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 373. The Chorus has given similar advice to Samson. 
 Where ? 
 
 418-419. Does this corroborate your answer to the ques- 
 tion under 1. 195 ? 
 
 433. Why does Manoa call the coming event a ' worse 
 thing ' ? 
 
 473. Was it a prophecy on Samson's part ? Was it a 
 prophecy, considered by itself? as Manoa takes it? 
 
 481-483. What effect has this on the outcome ? 
 
 500. Here (as in 1. 150) Milton draws illustrations from 
 the mythology of the Greeks, whom he calls Gentiles. 
 Do you feel sufficiently sure of the spirit of the drama to 
 determine whether such references widen the appeal of 
 the poetry, or seem out of key ? (Do not try to answer 
 this question unless it appeals to you as a concrete thing : 
 if it seems vague to you, pass it by.) 
 
 503, 506. Again, and this time from Manoa, comes the 
 injunction to leave to a higher power the ordering of 
 events : does this show in Milton a resignation to fate ? 
 How does it harmonize with 1. 221-226? 
 
 541—557. From this passage, Comus 47, and the sonnet 
 To Mr. Lawrence 9-10, can you draw conclusions re- 
 garding Milton's attitude to the subject of the several 
 verses ? 
 
 577-589. Does this speech help to bring about the catas- 
 trophe, or does it only foreshadow the end ? 
 
 598. What gives this line its power? 
 
 606-651. Is the tone of this speech the same as that of 
 the opening speech (1-114)? Is there any significance in 
 the irregular metre which obtains through the whole 
 speech (only the latter part of the opening speech was in 
 irregular metre) ? 
 
 617-632. This paragraph is full of a diction that certainly 
 cannot be called simple ; but it is quite unlike the elabo- 
 rate language of the Spirit in Comus (e. g., Comus 548- 
 562) : can you tell what the difference is ? 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 335 
 
 652-709. Does this ode seem to grow out of the whole 
 preceding incident, or out of Samson's preceding speech? 
 Is the ode to be regarded as expressing one thing or sev- 
 eral ? In either case, what is the subject? 
 
 667. Does the paragraph beginning here grow out of the 
 preceding paragraph ? 
 
 687. The same question is in place. This whole chorus, 
 so full of personal application to Milton and his associates, 
 introduces an element of outside interest. Do you feel 
 able to say whether the drama is helped or hurt thereby ? 
 (The answer to this must rest upon whether or not you 
 feel that the language is completely applicable to the 
 dramatic situation, quite apart from any other meaning it 
 may have. Let this question pass unless you have a 
 definite conviction in the matter.) 
 
 709. Does this prayer for a ' peaceful end ' seem effec- 
 tive, in view of your knowledge of the end itself ? 
 
 710-724. Is there a touch of humor in this description ? 
 Cf. Milton's preface, 1. 34-35, p. 133. 
 
 725-731. How much of this might have been omitted if 
 the drama had been written for acting ? Why ? 
 
 732-1009. This part of the drama, interesting as it is in 
 itself, has been regarded by some critics as contributing 
 nothing to the action, — that is, that the story is in the 
 same situation at the end of the dialogue as at the begin- 
 ning ; it has therefere been called an episode, wmich 
 means an incident separate in itself, only related to 
 the main story, and not a part of it. Others have held 
 that the talk with Dalila changes the situation some- 
 what. Which do you support ? Does Dalila use deceit at 
 first, finally allowing her true character to appear, or is 
 she sincere, using one argument only when another argu- 
 ment has failed ? 
 
 778. Is this point well taken ? 
 
 782. Note here, and later (800, 822, 836, 895), how these 
 quotations, direct or indirect, give an effect of dialogue 
 
33 6 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 within a speech. Would it be as effective, if the other 
 speaker actually interrupted in some such words ? 
 
 800. Dalila realizes that here is the weakness of her posi- 
 tion: does she attempt to evade or to answer the all-impor- 
 tant question ? Is her management of the difficulty skilful ? 
 
 819-820. Is this a fair characterization of Dalila's plea? 
 
 843-870. Dalila says in this speech that her course of 
 action was influenced by her love for Samson; in her 
 former speech she also speaks of her love for Samson, and 
 tells what it led her to do : does she contradict herself or 
 not ? If Dalila believed in Dagon, was her action in betray- 
 ing Samson worse than Samson's in marrying a Philistian 
 woman to work destruction upon the Philistines ? 
 
 876-902. Does Samson argue fairly, in view of 1. 219-236? 
 
 907-927. Has Dalila anything to gain by obtaining Sam- 
 son's forgiveness, securing his release from prison, and 
 tending him ' with nursing diligence ' ? Why does she 
 ask forgiveness ? Is there a dramatic reason for this 
 speech ? 
 
 946. Is Samson's fear warranted, that if he yielded to 
 Dalila's importunities she would again betray him ? 
 What would be the result of such a betrayal ? 
 
 965. Does Dalila answer her own question ? 
 
 997-1009. What is the dramatic value of this brief dia- 
 logue ? Why did not the long chorus follow 1. 996. 
 
 1010-1060. Compare Milton's attitude toward women, 
 as here shown, with his four sonnets that celebrate 
 women's virtues. What attitude toward women does 
 Comus show ? 
 
 1061-1267. Is there any reason why this incident should 
 be shorter than the two preceding ? Have the two 
 speakers any real respect for each other ? Are their con- 
 temptuous remarks based on facts? The Chorus and 
 Manoa have been friendly to Samson, Dalila and Ha- 
 rapha hostile: could the order in which they appear have 
 been altered to advantage ? 
 
QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 337 
 
 1116. Does Samson wish to fight Harapha because of 
 the latter's nationality, or is he aroused by Harapha's 
 taunts ? 
 
 1130-1138. Is there any truth in this charge ? Harapha 
 knew that the Philistines were unable to capture Samson 
 until his hair was shorn ; has Harapha forgotten this ? 
 
 1156-1167. Does Harapha doubt the power of Dagon, 
 or is he afraid of Samson ? 
 
 1 193. Is Samson's argument altogether sincere? How 
 had he explained the Philistian marriage to his parents 
 (cf. 1. 222-5 and 421-3) ? 
 
 1256. If Harapha were a brave man he would be unwill- 
 ing to fight the blind Samson; if a coward, he would be 
 afraid: fighting thus being out of the question, what 
 proves him a coward ? 
 
 1268-1307. What calls forth this chorus? 
 
 1308-1444. This incident involves an exit and second 
 entrance of the Officer; and between these moments a 
 brief dialogue of the Chorus and Samson : is this struc- 
 tural arrangement essentially the arrangement of the 
 preceding incidents, or not ? Has Harapha had any part 
 in bringing about the mandate of the lords (cf. 1250-1252)? 
 Why does Samson change his mind ? Is the whole inci- 
 dent as dramatic as its predecessors ? 
 
 1347. What does Samson threaten? How does the 
 the Officer take the threat ? Cf. Harapha's attitude. 
 
 1381-1389. Is this sudden change consistent with the 
 rest of Samson's actions ? 
 
 1410-1412. Why does the Officer hold out to Samson a 
 hope of freedom ? 
 
 1413-1415. Is there a dramatic reason for this ? 
 
 1427-1444. Is this a direct address to Samson, or a 
 prayer spoken in his behalf after he has left the scene? 
 
 1445-1758. Does the varying length of these speeches 
 seem to you to be significant ? 
 
 1473-1475. Which was it? 
 
33 8 QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS. 
 
 1499. Do the several premonitions (here, 1. 138 r, and 
 1529) increase or diminish your interest? 
 
 1 541-1570. Is the Messenger's way of imparting his 
 news more or less dramatic than if he had come to the 
 point at once ? 
 
 1586-1589. Why should this be told briefly, since it is to 
 be told again in detail ? 
 
 1 596-1659. What are some of the qualities of this piece 
 of narration ? Is it colored by the personality of the 
 speaker ? 
 
 1660-1707. What is the subject of this chorus ? What is 
 gained by dividing most of it into two semi-choruses? 
 
 1708-1744. Does Manoa show new characteristics? 
 
 1745-1758. What is the difference in tone between this 
 and the preceding chorus ? Which is more in accord with 
 the general spirit of the play ? 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 MILTON'S METRES. 
 
 To be of any real value, a study of Milton's versi- 
 fication should be exhaustive. The limits of this 
 book permit only a reference to the several metres 
 used, and to Milton's treatment of some of them. 
 
 Although a profound metrical artist, Milton is not 
 prolific of metres. By far the greater part of his po- 
 etry is written in heroic blank verse, — the two epics, 
 most of Comus, and most of Samson Agonistes. 
 No other metre is used often enough to warrant our 
 calling it a favorite one with Milton. Yet the poet 
 was not incurious in the matter of verse forms, and 
 wrote a number of translations of psalms (not 
 printed in this edition), that can hardly be regarded 
 otherwise than as metrical experiments. Within 
 his chosen range Milton was absolute master: in 
 his principal metre he not only used its previously 
 known capabilities, but discovered in it new possi- 
 bilities ; and his other metres he used at least as 
 effectively as did any of his predecessors. It is a 
 matter of some interest, not to say regret, that al- 
 though a student of Spenser, Milton did not use in 
 any poem the Spenserian stanza. 
 
 339 
 
340 APPENDIX. 
 
 The poems show the following metres : * 
 
 Heroic couplet ($xa, rhyme formula aa) : — Psalm 
 cxiv., Vac. Ex., May Mom. (1. 1-4, 9-10), Shakes- 
 pear, Univ. Carrier (both poems), Arcades (1. 26- 
 83). Some of the lines in Counts (e. g., 1. 495-512) 
 are in this metre. Milton uses the metre in much 
 the way his predecessors had done : that is, he did 
 not discover in it the possibilities that Dryden and 
 Pope made manifest. In all, about 260 lines. 
 
 Octosyllabic couplet (4x0, or /\ax, aa) : — Mar- 
 chioness, May Morn. (5-8), L'All. and // Pens, (in 
 these two poems from 1. 11 to the end), Arcades 
 (parts of the songs). Parts of Comus (e. g., 93- 
 114, 976-1023) are also written in this metre, which 
 was one of the favorite Elizabethan lyric measures. 
 Milton fully caught its spirit. About 600 lines. 
 
 Four-line stanzas: — Psalm cxxxvi. purports to be 
 in four-line stanzas, but in reality is composed in 
 octosyllabic couplets (<\xa and ^ax), each couplet 
 followed by the refrain, which thus fills out the 
 stanza. Other four-line stanzas are to be found 
 among the metrical translations, which are sepa- 
 rately discussed. It is rather remarkable that this 
 
 * The foot made up of an unaccented syllable followed by an 
 accented (iambus) is indicated by xa y the reverse order (trochee) 
 by ax. A numeral preceding this symbol shows the number of 
 feet in the line. The rhyme formula is indicated by a y b y c y etc., 
 lines that rhyme together being marked by the same letter. 
 Thus, $xa, with rhyme formula aa, shows the metre of the first 
 poem in this book, the paraphrase of Psalm cxiv. 
 
APPENDIX. 341 
 
 most frequent of all stanza forms should not once 
 have been used by Milton in an original poem. 
 About 700 lines, few of them very good. This is 
 the part of Milton's verse with which we can most 
 readily dispense. 
 
 Six-line stanzas (4x0, and ^ax, ababcc) : — The 
 last two stanzas of the first song in Arcades. The 
 first stanza is made up like a six-line stanza, but has 
 an inserted line, which brings it into the next group. 
 Psalms Hi., iv., and vii. are in six-line stanzas. 
 
 Seven-line stanzas (six lines $xa and the seventh 
 6xa, with rhyme formula ababbcc) : — Fair Infant, 
 Nativity (first four stanzas), Passion. This stanza, 
 which has the rhyme formula of the ' rhyme royal/ 
 but which ends with an Alexandrine instead of an 
 ordinary pentameter, seems to have acquired its 
 Alexandrine by imitation of the last line of the 
 Spenserian stanza. 161 lines (not counting the 
 first stanza of Arcades, which is in a different 
 metre). 
 
 Eight-line stanzas ($xa, ^xa, $xa, $xa, $xa, $xa y 
 4xa, 6xa, rhyming aabccbdd) : — The Hymn in 
 Nativ., 27 stanzas, 216 lines. The ^xa lines are 
 sometimes replaced by ^ax lines. 
 
 Ten-line stanzas: — The first ten lines of both 
 L'All. and 77 Pens, are written in alternate $xa and 
 Sxa lines, rhyming abbacddeec. A stanzaic effect 
 is not intended. 20 lines. 
 
 Sonnets: — The eighteen regular sonnets, and the 
 'tailed sonnet' are spoken of elsewhere (p. 330). 
 
342 APPENDIX. 
 
 272 lines. Milton also wrote five sonnets in 
 Italian. 
 
 Fourteen-line stanzas (first seven lines ^xa y 
 eighth and ninth $xa, tenth and eleventh $xa, 
 twelfth 2> xa > thirteenth 2xa, fourteenth 3x0,; rhyme 
 formula abcbaccddceffe) : — Circumcision. This 
 very complicated form Milton uses only in the two 
 stanzas of this poem. It is not really a stanzaic 
 form, but rather an irregular arrangement of 
 rhymes and lines, of which the poet probably wrote 
 the first fourteen easily and the last fourteen pretty 
 laboriously. 28 lines. 
 
 Irregular measures: — Time and Sol. Mus., 22 
 and 28 lines, respectively. The metre is mainly 
 $xa, varied by ^xa y A^xa, and A^ax, and ending with 
 6xa. Most of the rhymes are in couplets. Lycidas 
 is in irregularly rhymed $xa verse, varied by an oc- 
 casional 3x0, line. Some lines do not rhyme, and 
 some rhymes are several times repeated. The lyrics 
 in Comas and Arcades are written freely, without 
 repetition (except in the first song of Arcades) of 
 stanzaic effect. The movement is chiefly iambic. 
 The rhymes in the songs ' Sweet Echo ' and 
 'Sabrina Fair' do not suggest any familiar formula. 
 About 250 lines. Cf. last paragraph of this Ap- 
 pendix. 
 
 Translations in various metres: — The translation 
 of the Fifth Ode of Horace (Book I.) is unrhymed; 
 the lines are $xa, ^xa, 2>xa, 2>xa } — this order four 
 times repeated, making in reality four stanzas. In 
 
APPENDIX. 343 
 
 ten or twelve places in his prose writings, Milton 
 briefly quotes from the Latin, Greek, and Italian and 
 translates the quotation into English. His medium 
 is the regular heroic blank verse. Psalms Ixxx- 
 Ixxxviii. (April, 1648) are done in the familiar 
 ^xa, $xa, 4m, $xa stanza, rhyming abab. Psalms 
 i.-viii. (August, 1653) m ake up a series of metrical 
 experiments. Ps. i. is in rhyming couplets, $xa, 
 eight of the sixteen lines being marked by enjambe- 
 ment. Ps. ii. is in terza rima, $xa, rhyme formula 
 aba, bcb, cdc, etc. Ps. Hi. contains four stanzas 
 rhyming aabccb ; the movement of the lines is not 
 regular, but the number of the accents in the six 
 lines is 4, 2, 4, 2, 5, 4, respectively. Ps. iv. is in 
 six-line stanzas, five ^xa lines and one $xa line, 
 rhyming abbacc. Ps. v. is in four-line stanzas, 
 /{xa, ^xa, 4xa, ^xa, rhyming abab. Ps. vi. is in 
 four-line stanzas, $xa, abba. Ps. vii. is in six-line 
 stanzas, four accents (xa or ax), ababba; the last 
 stanza has but four lines, aabb. Ps. viii. is in four- 
 line stanzas, ^xa, abab. 
 
 Blank verse ($xa) : — All the rest of the poetry, 
 with the exception of the free rhythms of Samson 
 Agonistes (less than four hundred lines). In all, 
 the sum of Milton's pentameter blank verse is about 
 14,800 lines, and makes up about five-sixths of his 
 English verse. 
 
 Milton's pre-eminence in epic blank verse cannot 
 even be challenged : he stands at the head of Eng- 
 lish poets. In dramatic blank verse, — which is a 
 
344 APPENDIX. 
 
 very different thing, although its scansion values 
 are the same, — many of the Elizabethan playwrights 
 surpass him, although, strictly speaking, he does 
 not come into competition with them. It would be 
 on the whole more accurate to say that his blank 
 verse in epic poetry is unequaled, his blank verse in 
 drama less fitted to its purpose. Neither Comus 
 nor Samson Agonistes is in the same territory as 
 that represented by the plays of Shakespeare. But 
 Milton's dramatic blank verse is not that of the 
 two epics. His epic blank verse is wonderfully 
 flexible, chiefly by reason of the poet's freedom in 
 managing the cadence within the line ; his dramatic 
 blank verse secures its freedom chiefly by reason of 
 such external devices (if I may so call them) as an 
 extra syllable at the end of a line,* or an extra syl- 
 lable preceding a caesura. This greater elasticity 
 well accords with the character of dialogue, which 
 must be to some degree more colloquial and less 
 formal than narrative. The departure from the 
 strictures of prosody is much more marked in Sam- 
 son than it is in Comus, and shows itself, in ad- 
 dition to the two ways that have been mentioned, in 
 
 * In Samson the ratio of lines ending in an extra syllable is 
 about one in seven ; in Comus about one in ten. A hasty count 
 of the endings in P. L. gives a ratio of about one in a hundred, 
 with a range between one in twenty (Book I.), and one in two 
 hundred (Book IV.) In P. P., one in thirty, according to 
 Masson. Particularly in the dialogue between Samson and 
 Dalila, in S. A., do we find these hypermeter lines. 
 
APPENDIX. 345 
 
 the unusually large number of instances of extra 
 syllables in the body of the line. Milton's advance 
 toward license (or emancipation — whichever one 
 may choose to regard it) resembles Shakespeare's: 
 Comus and Samson are not farther apart, metri- 
 cally, than are Midsummer Night's Dream and 
 Winter's Tale. 
 
 It only remains to add a word on those parts of 
 Samson (mainly choral) in which no specific metri- 
 cal system is followed. It is often difficult to see 
 precisely how Milton intended some of these irregu- 
 lar lines to be scanned; but it is obvious, neverthe- 
 less, that the irregularity is intentional : Milton's 
 ear was far too certain to allow an inharmonious 
 line to mar the strength of his verse. And, indeed, 
 if one divests himself of the notion of a rigid verse 
 scheme, he will, in almost every instance, attain an 
 effective reading of the verse by giving due stress 
 to those words whose meaning logically requires 
 emphasis. The lyrics of Samson Agonistes have 
 little of the lilt of the songs of the two masks, but 
 they have a deeper music, better fitting the solem- 
 nity of their theme. 
 
Englfsb IReaofnas for Stuoents. 
 
 English masierpieces in editions at once competently edited and 
 inexpensive. The aim is to Jill vacancies now existing because of 
 subject, treatment, or price. Prices given below are NET. i6mo. Cloth. 
 
 Arnold (Matthew) : Prose Selections. Edited by Prof. Lewis 
 E. Gates of Harvard, xci+348 pp. 90c. 
 
 Includes : The Function of Criticism, First Lecture on Translating 
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 Browning; Selected Lyrical and Dramatic Poems. With the 
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 Burke : Selections. Edited by Bliss Perry, sometime Professor 
 in Princeton, xxvi-f-298 pp. 60c. 
 
 Contents : Speeches at Arrival at Bristol, at Conclusion of the 
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 Burke : Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited by 
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 xliii -f- 122 pp. 50c. 
 
 The introduction sums up the life and character of Burke. There 
 are also a Chronological Table and ample notes, 
 iv, 1901 I 
 
English leadings for Students. 
 
 Byron : Selections from his Poetry. Edited by Dr. F. I. 
 Carpenter of Chicago University, lviii — (— 412 pp. $1.00. 
 
 This volume contains seventeen lyrics, and selections from 
 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (Parts of Cantos I— II. Cantos III— 
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 Juan : The Shipwreck, The Isles of Greece, The Death of Haidee, 
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 Prof. W. C. Thayer 0/ Lehigh University : "Valuable for its clear in- 
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 most typical illustrations of his genius." 
 
 Coleridge: Prose Extracts. Edited by Prof. Henry A. Beers 
 of Yale, xix + l 4% PP« 5 oc » 
 The selections, varying in length from a paragraph to ten or 
 twenty pages, are mainly from Table Talk and Biographia Litcraria, 
 but also from Notes on Shakespeare, etc. 
 
 De Quincey : Joan of Arc ; The Mail Coach. Edited by Prof. 
 James Morgan Hart of Cornell, xxvi -f- 138 pp. 50c. 
 
 The introduction sketches De Quinceys' life and style. Allusions 
 and other difficult points are explained in the notes. This volume 
 and the Essays on BosweW s Johnson (see under Macaulay) are used 
 at Cornell for elementary rhetorical study. 
 
 Prof. A. S. Hill of Harvard : " The selections are good, and Prof. Hart's 
 introduction and notes are all that can be desired." 
 
 Dryden : Essays on the Drama. Edited by Dr. Wm. Strunk, 
 Jr., of Cornell, xxxviii + 180 pp. 50c. 
 
 The Essay of Dramatic Poesy and the critical prefaces, Of 
 Heroic Plays and The Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy. The 
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 forth clearly how he used the theories of the drama which he found 
 in Aristotle, Horace, and Corneille. 
 
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 tion to Dryden's dramatic criticism." 
 i/. 'oi. 2 
 
English leadings for Students. 
 
 Ford : The Broken Heart. A Spartan Tragedy in Verse. 
 Edited by Prof. Clinton Scollard of Hamilton College, 
 xvi +132 pp. see. (Buckram, 70c.) 
 
 A play notable for its repressed emotion and psychological in- 
 terest. Charles Lamb wrote : " I do not know where to find in 
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 this " [of The Broken Heart\ 
 
 Johnson : Rasselas. Edited by Prof. Oliver Farrar Emerson 
 of Adelbert. lvi + 179 pp. 50c. (Buckram, 70c.) 
 
 The introduction treats of Johnson's style, the circumstances 
 under which Rasselas was written, and its place in the history of 
 fiction. The notes explain allusions and trace the sources of some 
 of Johnson's materials. 
 
 Samuel Thurber, Master in Girls' High School, Boston : " I have always 
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 Prof. Emerson's edition is a particularly good form to have it in." 
 
 Landor: Selections from the Imaginary Conversations. 
 Edited by Prof. A. G. Newcomer of Stanford University, 
 lix + 166 pp. 50c. 
 
 Sixteen of the " Conversations, " which have been chosen 
 especially because of their vital and stimulating character, which 
 appeals strongly to the young student. 
 
 Prof. F. E. Schilling, University of Pennsylvania : " I hope that I may 
 be able to use this, as it seems very well done and the selections are excellent. " 
 
 Prof. Richard Burton, University of Minnesota : " It seems to me, upon 
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 Lyly : Endymion. Edited by Prof. Geo. P. Baker of Harvard, 
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 The Academy, London : " It is refreshing to come upon such a piece of 
 sterling work ; . . . the most complete and satisfactory account of Lyly that 
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 iv, '01. 3 
 
English Readings for Students. 
 
 Macaulay : Essays on Milton and Addison. Edited by Prof. 
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 Though intended primarily for schools, the book is suitable also 
 for college classes. It contains a biographical sketch of Macaulay ; 
 brief comment on the essay as a form of literature and on literature 
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 Macaulay and Carlyle : Essays on Samuel Johnson. Edited 
 by Dr. William Strunk of Cornell, xl -f- 191 pp. 50c. 
 These two essays present a constant contrast in intellectual and 
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 the study of the literary history of Johnson's time. 
 
 Prof. E. E. Hale, Jr., of Union College : " I think it so good that we shall 
 use it with the Freshmen next term.'" 
 
 Prof. L». A. Sherman, University cf Nebraska : " S trunk's editing- seem3 
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 Marlowe ; Edward II. With the best passages from Tambur- 
 laine the Great, and from his Poems. Edited by the late Prof. 
 Edward T. McLaughlin of Yale, xxi -f- 180 pp. 50c. 
 Edward II. is not only a remarkable play, but is of great in- 
 terest in connection with Shakespere's Richard II. A comparison 
 of the two plays is sketched in the introduction. 
 
 Newman : Prose Selections. Edited by Prof. Lewjs E. Gates 
 of Harvard, lxii + 228 pp. 50c. 
 Some of the more picturesque and concrete passages of Cardinal 
 Newman's prose, along with others, showing his indictment of the 
 liberal and irreligious tendencies of the age, his insistence on the 
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 his statement of the Catholic position, and two powerful imagina- 
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 Prof. R. G. Moulton of University of Chicago : " I am generally suspicious 
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 The selection seems excellent, and the introduction is well balanced between 
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