Golden Numbers Part 22

_From "The Tempest."_

_Orpheus With His Lute_

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep or hearing, die.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

_From "King Henry VIII."_

_The Arming of Pigwiggen_

(He) quickly arms him for the field, A little c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l his s.h.i.+eld, Which he could very bravely wield, Yet could it not be piersed: His spear a bent both stiff and strong, And well near of two inches long; The pile was of a horsefly's tongue, Whose sharpness naught reversed.

And put him on a coat of mail, Which was of a fish's scale, That when his foe should him a.s.sail, No point should be prevailing.

His rapier was a hornet's sting, It was a very dangerous thing; For if he chanc'd to hurt the king, It would be long in healing.

His helmet was a beetle's head, Most horrible and full of dread, That able was to strike one dead, Yet it did well become him: And for a plume a horse's hair, Which being tossed by the air, Had force to strike his foe with fear, And turn his weapon from him.

Himself he on an earwig set, Yet scarce he on his back could get, So oft and high he did curvet Ere he himself could settle: He made him turn, and stop, and bound, To gallop, and to trot the round, He scarce could stand on any ground, He was so full of mettle.

MICHAEL DRAYTON.

_From "Nymphidia."_

_Hesperus' Song_

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep.

Hesperus entreats thy light, G.o.ddess, excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's s.h.i.+ning orb was made Heaven to clear, when day did close; Bless us then with wished sight, G.o.ddess, excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-s.h.i.+ning quiver; Give unto the flying hart s.p.a.ce to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st a day of night, G.o.ddess, excellently bright.

BEN JONSON.

_From "Cynthia's Revels."_

_L'Allegro_

(Extracts)

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee 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; 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 The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honor due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free; To hear the Lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, Or the twisted Eglantine: While the c.o.c.k with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the Barn-door, Stoutly struts his Dames before: Oft listening how the Hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn, From the side of some h.o.a.r hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill: Some time walking not unseen By Hedgerow Elms, on Hillocks green, Right against the Eastern gate, Where the great Sun begins his state, Robed in flames and Amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight.

While the Plowman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the Milkmaid singeth blithe, 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, Russet Lawns, and Fallows gray, Where the nibbling flock do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim with Daisies pied, Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.

Towers and Battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted Trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighboring eyes.

Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged Oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, Are at their savory dinner set Of Herbs, and other Country Messes, 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 Hayc.o.c.k in the Mead.

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, Dancing in the Checkered shade; And young and old come forth to play On a Suns.h.i.+ne Holy-day Till the livelong daylight fail; Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale, With stories told of many a feat, How Fairy Mab the junkets eat, She was pinched, and pulled, she said, And he by Friars' Lanthorn led, Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat, 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-laborers could not end; Then lies him down the Lubbar Fiend, 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 c.o.c.k his Matin rings.

Thus done the Tales, to bed they creep 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, 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 oft appear 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.

Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child.

Warble his native Wood-notes wild.

And ever against eating Cares, 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, 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 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.

These delights, if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

JOHN MILTON.

_Sabrina Fair_

_The Spirit sings:_ Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the gla.s.sy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen for dear honor's sake, G.o.ddess of the silver lake, Listen, and save!

Listen, and appear to us, In name of great Ocea.n.u.s;

By all the Nymphs that Nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed, 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, Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank, My sliding Chariot stays, Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen Of turkis blue, and emerald green, That in the channel strays; 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 I am here.

JOHN MILTON.

_From "Comus."_

_Alexander's Feast_

'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The G.o.dlike hero sate On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were placed around; Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: (So should desert in arms be crowned.) The lovely Thais, by his side, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride In flower of youth and beauty's pride.

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair.

_Chorus._

_Happy, happy, happy pair!_ _None but the brave,_ _None but the brave,_ _None but the brave deserves the fair._