Upon the top of all his lofty crest,
A bunch of hairs, discoloured diversely,
With sprinkled pearl and gold full richly drest.
Did shake, and seemed to dance for jollity;
Like to an almond tree, ymounted high
On top of green Selinis, all alone,
With blossoms brave bedecked daintily;
Whose tender locks do tremble, every one,
At every little breath that under heaven is blown.
His warlike shield all closely covered was,
Ne might of mortal eye be ever seen;
Not made of steel, nor of enduring brass,
(Such earthly metals soon consumed beene,)
But all of diamond, perfect, pure, and clean
It framed was, one massy, entire mould,
Hewn out of adamant rocks with engine keen,
That point of spear it never piercen could,
No dint of direful sword divide the substance would.
The same to wight he never would disclose, But whenas monsters huge he would dismay, Or daunt unequal armies of his foes, Or when the flying heavens he would affray : For so exceeding shone its glistening ray, That Phoebus' golden face it did attaint, As when a cloud his beams doth overlay ; And silver Cynthia waxed pale and faint, As when her face is stained with magic arts constraint
Forthwith themselves disguising, both in strange
And base attire, that none might them bewray,
To Maridunum, that is now, by change
Of name, Cayr-Merdin called, they took their way :
There the wise Merlin, whylome wont (they say)
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground,
In a deep delve, far from the view of day;
That of no living wight he mote be found,
Whenso he counseld, with his sprites encompast round
And if thou ever happen that same way
To travel, go to see that dreadful place:
It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)
Under a rock that lies a little space
From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace
Amongst the woody hills of Dynevowre:
But dare thou not, I charge, in any case,
To enter into that same baleful bower,
For fear the cruel fiends should thee un'wares devour
But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, And there such ghastly noise of iron chains, And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, Which thousand spirits, with long enduring pains, Do toss, that will stun thy feeble brains; And oftentimes great groans and grievous stounds. When too huge toil and labour them constrains, And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.
The cause, some say, is this: a little while
Before that Merlin died, he did intend
A brazen wall in compass to compile
About Cairmardin, and did it commend,
Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end;
During which work the Lady of the Lake,
Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send,
Who thereby forced his workmen to forsake,
Them bound till his return their labour not to slake,
In the meantime, through that false lady's train,
He was surprized and buried under bier,
Ne ever to his work returned again;
Natheless those fiends may not their work forbear,
So greatly his commandement they fear,
But there do toil and travail day and night,
Until that brazen wall they up do rear;
For Merlin had in magic more insight
Than ever him before or after living wight.
For he by words could call out of the sky
Both sun and moon, and make them him obey ;
The land to sea, and sea to mainland dry,
And darksome night he eke could turn to day.
Huge hosts of men he could alone dismay,
And hosts of men of meanest things could frame,
When so him list his enemies to fray;
That to this day for terror of his fame,
The fiends do quake, when any him to them does name
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference; as the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks.
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance à trumpet sound,
Or air of music touch their ears,
any
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath not music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted.
If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again;—it had a dying fall:
O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet south
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour
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