His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring 140 While the bee with honeyed thigh, LYCIDAS In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 6 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. With lucky words favour my destined urn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 21 For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 25 Two massy keys he bore of metals twain 110 Enough of such as for their bellies' sake, Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled ; A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 160 Where the great vision of the guarded mount And O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. Where, other groves and other streams along, 185 Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals He touched the tender stops of various quills, 1 world of monsters 2 tear-wet 3 pity TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL MAY, 1652 On the Proposals of Certain Ministers at the Committee for Propagation of the Gospel Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud 5 Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream,1 with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureate wreath: yet much remains To conquer still; peace hath her victories No less renowned than war: new foes arise, Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.1 The triple tyrant; that from these may grow A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.2 ON HIS BLINDNESS When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent 3 which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present 5 My true account, lest he returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best ΙΟ Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.” TO CYRIACK SKINNER Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun or moon or star throughout the year, 5 Or man or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied IO In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe talks from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 1 the Pope (alluding to his triple crown) 2 The Puritans interpreted the biblical denunciations of Babylon as directed prophetically against the Catholic Church. 3 his ability to write conscious ness |