There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills,
While the still Morn went out with sandals gray;
He touched the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,
And now was dropt into the western bay:
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
1637.

1638.

180

185

190

WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY

Captain or colonel or knight in arms,

Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.

5

He can requite thee; for he knows the charms
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower:

The great Emathian conqueror bid spare

The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground; and the repeated air

Of sad Electra's poet had the power

To save th' Athenian walls from ruin bare. 1642.

ARET

1645.

TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY
Daughter to that good earl, once President
Of England's Council and her Treasury,
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,

ΙΟ

Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

Killed with report that old man eloquent;
Though later born than to have known the days
Wherein your father flourisht, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet:
So well your words his noble virtues praise
That all both judge you to relate them true
And to possess them, honoured Margaret.
1644 or 1645.

1645.

5

ΤΟ

ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY
WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES

I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,

When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs;
As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee.
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs,
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt when truth would set them free.
License they mean when they cry liberty;
For who loves that must first be wise and good:
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood.
1645 or 1646.

1673.

5

10

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 crownèd Fortune proud

Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, 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 fees arise, Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular chains. Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw. 1652. 1694

5

ΙΟ

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT
Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
Ev'n them who kept Thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones,
Forget not; in Thy book record their groans

Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled
Mother with infant down the rocks: their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

To heav'n. Their martyred blood and ashes sow
O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant, that from these may grow
A hundred fold, who, having learnt Thy way,
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
1655.

1672.

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 which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

5

ΙΟ

5

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best 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." 1655?

1673.

TO MR. CYRIACK SKINNER UPON HIS BLINDNESS

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,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heav'n'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
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.

ΙΟ

ΤΟ

5

1655.

1694.

TO MR. LAWRENCE

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius reinspire

The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,

Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well toucht, or artful voice

10

5

Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?

He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

1656?

1673.

ON HIS DECEASED WIFE

Methought I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the Old Law did save,

And such as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:

Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined

So clear as in no face with more delight.
But O, as to embrace me she inclined,

I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
1673.

1658?

FROM

PARADISE LOST

BOOK I

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,

5

Sing, heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top

Of Oreb or of Sinai didst inspire

That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed

In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos; or if Sion hill

ΙΟ

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence

Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,

That with no middle flight intends to soar