Poemata : Latin, Greek and Italian Poems Part 2

Is't not enough that all the woodlands yield To thy fell force, and ev'ry verdant field, That lilies, at one noisome blast of thine, And ev'n the Cyprian Queen's own roses, pine, 20 That oaks themselves, although the running rill Suckle their roots, must wither at thy will, That all the winged nations, even those Whose heav'n-directed flight the Future shows, And all the beasts that in dark forests stray, And all the herds of Proteus5 are thy prey?

Ah envious! arm'd with pow'rs so unconfined Why stain thy hands with blood of Human kind?

Why take delight, with darts that never roam, To chase a heav'n-born spirit from her home? 30 While thus I mourn'd, the star of evening stood, Now newly ris'n, above the western flood, And Phoebus from his morning-goal again Had reach'd the gulphs of the Iberian main.

I wish'd repose, and, on my couch reclined Took early rest, to night and sleep resign'd, When--Oh for words to paint what I beheld!

I seem'd to wander in a s.p.a.cious field, Where all the champain glow'd with purple light Like that of sun-rise on the mountain height; 40 Flow'rs over all the field, of ev'ry hue That ever Iris wore, luxuriant grew, Nor Chloris,6 with whom amtrous Zephyrs play, E'er dress'd Alcinous' gardens7 half so gay.

A silver current, like the Tagus, roll'd O'er golden sands, but sands of purer gold, With dewy airs Favonius fann'd the flow'rs, With airs awaken'd under rosy bow'rs.

Such poets feign, irradiated all o'er The sun's abode on India's utmost sh.o.r.e. 50 While I, that splendour and the mingled shade Of fruitful vines, with wonder fixt survey'd, At once, with looks that beam'd celestial grace, The Seer of Winton stood before my face.

His snowy vesture's hem descending low His golden sandals swept, and pure as snow New-fallen shone the mitre on his brow.

Where'er he trod, a tremulous sweet sound Of gladness shook the flow'ry scene around: Attendant angels clap their starry wings, 60 The trumpet shakes the sky, all aether rings, Each chaunts his welcome, folds him to his breast, And thus a sweeter voice than all the rest.

"Ascend, my son! thy Father's kingdom share, My son! henceforth be free'd from ev'ry care."

So spake the voice, and at its tender close With psaltry's sound th'Angelic band arose.

Then night retired, and chased by dawning day The visionary bliss pa.s.s'd all away.

I mourn'd my banish'd sleep with fond concern, 70 Frequent, to me may dreams like this return.

1 i.e. "In my seventeeth year," meaning at the age of sixteen.

2 Lancelot Andrewes, Fuller's "peerless prelate."

3 The plague which ravaged England in I626.

4 Prince Christian of Brunswick, and Count Mansfelt. They were brothers in arms and the Protestant champions. They both died in I626.

5 Marine creatures. Proteus was the shepherd of the seas.

6 Flora.

7 See the account of his gardens in the Odyssey.

ELEGY IV.

Anno Aetates 18.

To My Tutor, Thomas Young,1 Chaplain of the English Merchants Resident at Hamburg.

Hence, my epistle--skim the Deep--fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic sh.o.r.e!

Haste--lest a friend should grieve for thy delay-- And the G.o.ds grant that nothing thwart thy way!

I will myself invoke the King2 who binds In his Sicanian ecchoing vault the winds, With Doris3 and her Nymphs, and all the throng Of azure G.o.ds, to speed thee safe along.

But rather, to insure thy happier haste, Ascend Medea's chariot,4 if thou may'st, 10 Or that whence young Triptolemus5 of yore Descended welcome on the Scythian sh.o.r.e.

The sands that line the German coast descried, To opulent Hamburg turn aside, So call'd, if legendary fame be true, From Hama,6 whom a club-arm'd Cimbrian slew.

There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just, A faithful steward of his Christian trust, My friend, and favorite inmate of my heart-- That now is forced to want its better part! 20 What mountains now, and seas, alas! how wide!

From me this other, dearer self divide, Dear, as the sage7 renown'd for moral truth To the prime spirit of the Attic youth!

Dear, as the Stagyrite8 to Ammon's son,9 His pupil, who disdain'd the world he won!

Nor so did Chiron, or so Phoenix s.h.i.+ne10 In young Achilles' eyes, as He in mine.

First led by him thro' sweet Aonian11 shade Each sacred haunt of Pindus I survey'd; 30 And favor'd by the muse, whom I implor'd, Thrice on my lip the hallow'd stream I pour'd.

But thrice the Sun's resplendent chariot roll'd To Aries, has new ting'd his fleece with gold, And Chloris twice has dress'd the meadows gay, And twice has Summer parch'd their bloom away, Since last delighted on his looks I hung, Or my ear drank the music of his tongue.

Fly, therefore, and surpa.s.s the tempest's speed!

Aware thyself that there is urgent need. 40 Him, ent'ring, thou shalt haply seated see Beside his spouse, his infants on his knee, Or turning page by page with studious look Some bulky Father, or G.o.d's Holy Book, Or minist'ring (which is his weightiest care) To Christ's a.s.sembled flock their heav'nly fare.

Give him, whatever his employment be, Such gratulation as he claims from me, And with a down-cast eye and carriage meek Addressing him, forget not thus to speak. 50 If, compa.s.s'd round with arms, thou canst attend To verse, verse greets thee from a distant friend, Long due and late I left the English sh.o.r.e, But make me welcome for that cause the more.

Such from Ulysses, his chaste wife to cheer, The slow epistle came, tho' late, sincere.

But wherefore This? why palliate I a deed, For which the culprit's self could hardly plead?

Self-charged and self-condemn'd, his proper part He feels neglected, with an aching heart; 60 But Thou forgive--Delinquents who confess, And pray forgiveness, merit anger less; From timid foes the lion turns away, Nor yawns upon or rends a crouching prey, Even pike-wielding Thracians learn to spare, Won by soft influence of a suppliant's prayer; And heav'n's dread thunderbolt arrested stands By a cheap victim and uplifted hands.

Long had he wish'd to write, but was witheld, And writes at last, by love alone compell'd, 70 For Fame, too often true when she alarms, Reports thy neighbouring-fields a scene of arms;12 Thy city against fierce besiegers barr'd, And all the Saxon Chiefs for fight prepar'd.

Enyo13 wastes thy country wide around, And saturates with blood the tainted ground; Mars rests contented in his Thrace no more, But goads his steeds to fields of German gore, The ever-verdant olive fades and dies, And peace, the trumpet-hating G.o.ddess, flies, 80 Flies from that earth which justice long had left, And leaves the world of its last guard bereft.

Thus horror girds thee round. Meantime alone Thou dwell'st, and helpless in a soil unknown, Poor, and receiving from a foreign hand The aid denied thee in thy native land.

Oh, ruthless country, and unfeeling more Than thy own billow-beaten chalky sh.o.r.e!

Leav'st Thou to foreign Care the Worthies giv'n By providence, to guide thy steps to Heav'n? 90 His ministers, commission'd to proclaim Eternal blessings in a Saviour's name?

Ah then most worthy! with a soul unfed In Stygian night to lie for ever dead.

So once the venerable Tishbite stray'd An exil'd fugitive from shade to shade, When, flying Ahab and his Fury wife, In lone Arabian wilds he shelter'd life; So, from Philippi wander'd forth forlorn Cilician Paul, with sounding scourges torn; 100 And Christ himself so left and trod no more The thankless Gergesenes' forbidden sh.o.r.e.

But thou take courage, strive against despair, Quake not with dread, nor nourish anxious care.

Grim war indeed on ev'ry side appears, And thou art menac'd by a thousand spears, Yet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offend Ev'n the defenceless bosom of my friend; For thee the Aegis of thy G.o.d shall hide, Jehova's self shall combat on thy side, 110 The same, who vanquish'd under Sion's tow'rs At silent midnight all a.s.syria's pow'rs, The same who overthrew in ages past, Damascus' sons that lay'd Samaria waste; Their King he fill'd and them with fatal fears By mimic sounds of clarions in their ears, Of hoofs and wheels and neighings from afar Of clanging armour and the din of war.

Thou therefore, (as the most affiicted may) Still hope, and triumph o'er thy evil day, 120 Look forth, expecting happier times to come, And to enjoy once more thy native home!

1 Young was private tutor to Milton before he went to St. Paul's. (Milton's prose letter to Young is included in an appendix below.)

2 Aeolus, G.o.d of the east wind. Sicania was a name for Sicily.

3 Mother of the Nereids (sea-nymphs).

4 Drawn by winged dragons.

5 Triptolemus was presented by Ceres with a winged chariot.

6 A Saxon warrior slain by a giant.

7 Socrates. 8 Aristotle. 9 Alexander.

10 Chiron and Phoenix were the tutors of Achilles.

11 Helicon.

12 Alluding to the war between the Protestant League and the Imperialists.

13 The G.o.ddess of war.

ELEGY V.

Anno Aetates 20.

On the Approach of Spring.

Time, never wand'ring from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground; Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, And earth a.s.sumes her transient youth again.

Dream I, or also to the Spring belong Increase of Genius, and new pow'rs of song?

Spring gives them, and, how strange soere it seem, Impels me now to some harmonious theme.

Castalia's fountain and the forked hill1 By day, by night, my raptur'd fancy fill, 10 My bosom burns and heaves, I hear within A sacred sound that prompts me to begin, Lo! Phoebus comes, with his bright hair he blends The radiant laurel wreath; Phoebus descends; I mount, and, undepress'd by c.u.mb'rous clay, Through cloudy regions win my easy way; Rapt through poetic shadowy haunts I fly: The shrines all open to my dauntless eye, My spirit searches all the realms of light, And no Tartarean gulphs elude my sight. 20 But this ecstatic trance--this glorious storm Of inspiration--what will it perform?

Spring claims the verse that with his influence glows, And shall be paid with what himself bestows.

Thou, veil'd with op'ning foliage, lead'st the throng Of feather'd minstrels, Philomel! in song; Let us, in concert, to the season sing, Civic, and sylvan heralds of the spring!

With notes triumphant spring's approach declare!

To spring, ye Muses, annual tribute bear! 30 The Orient left and Aethiopia's plains The Sun now northward turns his golden reins, Night creeps not now, yet rules with gentle sway, And drives her dusky horrors swift away; Now less fatigued on his aetherial plain Bootes2 follows his celestial wain; And now the radiant centinels above Less num'rous watch around the courts of Jove, For, with the night, Force, Ambush, Slaughter fly, And no gigantic guilt alarms the sky. 40 Now haply says some shepherd, while he views, Rec.u.mbent on a rock, the redd'ning dews, This night, this surely, Phoebus miss'd the fair, Who stops his chariot by her am'rous care.

Cynthia,3 delighted by the morning's glow, Speeds to the woodland, and resumes her bow; Resigns her beams, and, glad to disappear, Blesses his aid who shortens her career.

Come--Phoebus cries--Aurora come--too late Thou linger'st slumb'ring with thy wither'd mate,4 50 Leave Him, and to Hymettus' top repair, Thy darling Cephalus expects thee there.