Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/104

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��POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON

��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 120

That to the faithful Herdman's art be- longs ! 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, 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 flowerets of a thousand

hues. 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, 140

And purple all the ground with vernal

flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken

dies,

The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked

with jet,

The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attired wood- bine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive

head,

��And every flower that sad embroidery

wears;

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies till their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 151

For so, to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false sur- mise.

Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sound- ing seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are

hurled ;

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 de- nied,

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, 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-span- gled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning

sky:

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, 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, 179 That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his

eyes. Now, Lycidas, the Shepherds weep no

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