Young, fresh, and blooming like the morn. Aneye,
As when the blue fky trembles through a cloud
Of pureft white. A fecret charm combin'd
Her features, and infus'd enchantment thro' them;
Her fhape was harmony.-But cloquence
Beneath her beauty fails, which feem'd on purpofe
By nature lavish'd on her, that mankind
Might fee the virtue of a hero tried
Almoft beyond the ftretch of human force.
Soft as the pafs'd along, with down-caft eyes,
Where gentle forrows fwell'd, and now and then
Dropp'd o'er her modeft cheek a trickling tear,
The Roman legions languifh'd, and hard war
Felt more than pity. Ev'n their chief himself,
As on his high tribunal rais'd he fat,
Turn'd from the dang`rous fight, and chiding afk'd
His officers, if by this gift they meant
To cloud his virtue in its very dawn.

She, queftion'd of her birth, in trembling accents,
With tears and blushes broken, told her tale.
But when he found her royally defcended,
Of her old captive parents the fole joy;
And that a haplefs Celtiberian prince,
Her lover and belov'd, forgot his chains,
His loft dominions, and for her alone
Wept out his tender foul; fudden the heart
Of this young conqu'ring, loving, godlike Roman
Felt all the great divinity of virtue.
His withing youth ftood check'd, his tempting
pow'r

Reftrain'd by kind humanity.-At once
He for her parents and her lover call'd.
The various fcene imagine: how his troops
Look'd dubious on, and wonder'd what he meant ;
While ftretch'd below the trembling fuppliants lay,
Rack'd by a thoufand mingling paffions, fear,
Hope, jealoufy, difdain, fubmiflion, grief,
Anxiety, and love, in every fhape;
To thefe as different fentiments fucceeded,
As mixt emotions; when the man divine
Thus the dread filence to the lover broke:
"We both are young, both charm'd. The right
"of war

"Has put thy beauteous mistress in my pow'r;
"With whom I could in the most facred ties
"Live out a happy life: but know that Romans
"Their hearts, as well as enemies, can conquer.
"Then take her to thy foul; and with her take
Thy liberty and kingdom. In return

"I afk but this; when you behold thefe eyes, Thefe charms, with tranfport, be a friend to "Rome."

§ 84. The Blefings of Peace. THOMSON. Beauteous peace!

Sweet union of a ftate! what else but thou

Gives fafety, ftrength, and glory to a people!
bow, Lord Confble, beneath the fnow
Of many years; yet in my breast revives
A youthful flame. Methinks, I see again
fhofe gentle days renew'd, that blefs'd our ifle,
Ere by this wafteful fury of divifion,
Worfe than our Etna's most deftructive fires,
It defolated funk. I fee our plains
Unbounded waving with the gifts of harvest;
Our feas with commerce throng'd, our bufy ports
With cheerful toil Our Enna blooms afresh;
Afreih the fweets of thymy Hybla blow.
Our nymphs and fhepherds, fporting in each vale,
Infpire new fong, and wake the paftoral reed.

§ 85. Providence. THOMSON.
THERE is a pow'r

Unfeen, that rules th' illimitable world, That guides its motious, from the brightest star To the leaft duft of this fin-tainted mould; While man, who madly deems himself the lord Of all, is nought but weaknefs and dependance. This facred truth, by fure experience taught, Thou must have learnt when wandering all alone, Each bird, each infect, flitting thro' the fky, Was more fufficient for itfelf, than thou.

$86. Prudence. THOMSON. ET us

Act with cool prudence, and with manly

temper,

did rife

blow;

Monte

are thefe,

That float in air, and fly upon the feas?
Came they alive, or dead, upon the fhore?
Guiom. Alas! they liv'd too fure; I heard them

roar:

All turn'd their fides, and to each other fpoke:
I faw their words break out in fire and fmoke.
Sure 'tis their voice that thunders from on high,
And thefe the younger brothers of the sky:
Deaf with the noife, I took my hafty flight;
No mortal courage can fupport the fright.

$88. Virtue preferable to Rank. RowE. WHAT tho' no gaudy titles grace my birth?

1 itles, the fervile courtier's lean reward!

Sometimes the pay of virtue, but more oft

Set all with flow'rs, as a clear heaven with stars.
Nay, as I've heard, ere he the city enter'd,
Your fubjects lin'd the way for many furlongs;
The very trees bore men: and as our God,
When from the portal of the caft he dawns,
Beholds a thoufand birds upon the boughs,
To welcome him with all their warbling throats,
And prune their feathers in his golden beams;
So did your fubjects, in their gaudy trim,
Upon the pendant branches fpeak his praise.
Mothers, who cover'd all the banks beneath,
Did rob the crying infants of the breast,
Pointing Ziphares out, to make them smile;
And climbing boys flood on their fathers fhoulders,
Anfwering their fhouting fires with tender ciies,
To make the concert up of general joy.

cophants:

Yet Heaven, that made me honeft, made me more Than e'er a king did, when he made a lord.

TH

HILL.

unbufied fhepherd, ftretch'd beneath the hawthorn,

His carelets limbs thrown out in wanton eafe, With thoughtless gaze perufing the arch'd heavens, Andidly whittling while his ficcp feed round him; Enjoys a fweeter fhade than that of canopies Heim'd in by cares, and hook ftorms of treafon.

by

ELEGANT

L'ALLEGRO. MILTON.

HENCE, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn

'Mongft horrid fhapes, and fhrieks, and fights unholy,

[wings,

Find out fome uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness fpreads his jealous And the night-raven fings;

There under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
But come, thou Goddefs fair and free,
In heaven yclep'd Euphrofyne,
And by men heart-eafing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth,
With two fifter Graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as fome fages fing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a-Maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown rofes wafh'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair;
Hafte thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jeft and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed fmiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his fides:

Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain nymph, fweet 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;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And finging startle the dull night,
From his watch-tow'r in the fkies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rife;
Then to come in fpite of forrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the fweet-brier, or the vine,
Or the twifted eglantine:
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darknefs thin,
And to the ftack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly ftruts his dames before:
Oft lift'ning how the hounds and horn
Chearly roufe the flumb'ring morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing fhrill:
Some time walking not unfeen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his ftate,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thoufand liveries dight;
While the ploughman near at hand
Whiftles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid fingeth olithe,
And the mower whets his feythe,

And ev'ry fhepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilft the landscape round it measures;
Ruffet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do ftray;
Mountains, on whofe barren breaft
The lab'ring clouds do often reft;
Meadows trim with daifies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Tow'rs and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighb'ring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage-chimney finokes
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met,
Are at their favoury dinner fet

Of herbs, and other country meffes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreffes;
And then in hafte her bow'r fhe leaves,
With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;
Or, if the earlier feafon lead,

To the tann'd haycock in the mead.
Sometimes with fecure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecs found
To many a youth and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd fhade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a funfhine holy-day,
Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With ftories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab the junkets eat;
She was pinch'd and pull'd, the faid,
And by the frier's lanthorn led;
Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,
To earn his cream-bowl duly fet,
When in one night, ere glimpfe of morn,
His fhadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn,
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend,
And ftretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Bafks at the fire his hairy ftrength;
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the firft cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whisp'ring winds foon lull'd afleep.
Tow'red cities please us then,
And the bufy hum of men,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With ftore of ladies, whofe 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 faffron robe, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feaft, and revelry,
With mark, and antique pageantry;
Such fights as youthful poets dream
On fuminer eves by haunted stream.

Then to the well-trod ftage anon,

If Joufon's learned fock be on,
Or fweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in foft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verfe,
Such as the meeting foul

may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked fweetnefs long drawn out.
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden foul of harmony;
That Orpheus' felf may heave his head
From golden flumber on a bed
Of heap'd Elysian flow'rs, and hear
Such ftrains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.
Thefe delights if thou cauft give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

§ 2. IL PENSEROSO. MILTON. 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 fome idle brain,

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes poffefs,
As thick and numberless

As the gay motes that people the fun-beams, Or likeft hovering dreams,

The fickle penfioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail, thou Goddefs fage and holy!
Hail, divineft Melancholy!
Whofe faintly vifage is too bright
To hit the fenfe of human fight;
And therefore to our weaker view
O'erlaid with black, ftaid Wisdom's hue;
Black, but fuch as in efteem

Prince Memnon's fifter might befeem ;
Or that ftarr'd Ethiop queen that strove
To fet her beauty's praife above

The Sea-nymphs, and their pow'rs offended;
Yet thou art higher far defcended:
Thee bright-hair'd Vefta long of yore
To folitary Saturn bore;

His daughter the (in Saturn's reign,
Such mixture was not held a stain).
Oft in glimmering bow'rs and glades
He met her, and in fecret fhades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come, penfive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, fteadfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of Cyprus lawn,
Over thy decent thoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted ftate,
With even step, and mufing gait,

And

And looks commercing with the skies,

Thy rapt foul fitting in thine eyes:
There held in holy paffion ftill,

Forget thy felf to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft
Thou fix them on the earth as fast:

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,
Spare Faft, that oft with Gods doth diet,
And hears the Mufes in a ring
Ay round about Jove's altar fing:
And add to thefe retired Leifure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
But first and chiefeft with thee bring
Him that yon foars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The cherub Contemplation;
And the mute Silence hift along,
'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong,
In her sweetest faddeft plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er th' accuftom'd oak;

Sweet bird, that fhunn'ft the noise of folly,
Moft mufical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntrefs, oft the woods among
I woo, to hear thy even-fong;
And, miffing thee, I walk unfeen
On the dry Imooth-fhaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led aftray
Through the Heaven's wide pathless way,
And oft, as if her head fhe bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft, on a plat of rifing ground,
I hear the far-off curfeu found,
Over fome wide-water'd fhore,
Swinging flow with fullen roar;
Or, if the air will not permit,
Some ftill removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all refort 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,
Be feen in fome high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unfphere
The fpirit of Plato, to unfold

What worlds or what vaft regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forfook
Her mansion in this flefhly nook:
And of those demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true confent
With planet, or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous tragedy
In fceptred pall come fweeping by,
Prefenting Thebes' or Pelops' line,
Or elfe the tale of Troy divine,
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage,

But, O fad Virgin, that thy pow'r
Might raife Muleus from his bow'r,
Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as, warbled to the ftring,
Diew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what love did seck.
Or call up him that left half told
The ftory of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarfife,
And who had Canacé to wife,

That own'd the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horfe of brafs,
On which the Tartar king did ride;
And if aught elfe great bards befide
In fage and folemn tunes have fung,
Of turneys and of trophies hung,
Of forefts, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus, night, oft fee me in thy pale career,
Till civil-fuited morn appear,

Not trickt and frounc'd as she was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt,
But kercheft in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Or ufher'd with a fhower ftill,
When the guft hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves,
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the fun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, goddefs, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And fhadows brown that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,

Where the rude ax with heaved stroke
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt
There in clofe covert by fome brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garith eye,
While the bee with honied thigh,
That at her flow'ry work doth fing,
And the waters murmuring,
With fuch concert as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd fleep;
And let fome ftrange myfterious dream
Wave at his wings in airy ftream
Of lively portraiture difplay'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid.

And, as I wake, fweet mufic breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by fome Spirit to mortals good,
Or th' unfeen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the ftudious cloyfters pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars mafly proof,
And ftoried windows richly dight,
Cafting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voic'd quire below,
In fervice high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Diffolve me into ecftafics,

And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.