In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove, or green, +212 Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud: Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest; Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud; In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark The sable-stoléd sorcerers bear his worshipt ark. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded infant's hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, 220 Can in his swaddling bands control the damnéd crew. So when the sun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave; The flocking shadows pale Troop to th' infernal jail, Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; 228 And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moonloved maze. But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest; Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Heaven's youngest-teeméd star Hath fixed her polish'd car, Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harness'd angels 'sit in order serviceable. 1629. 1645. 236 244 John Milton. ON TIME FLY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, So little is our loss, So little is thy gain. For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, 10 Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss And Joy shall overtake us as a flood; With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine About the supreme Throne Of him, t' whose happy-making sight alone, Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time. 20 1645. John Milton. AT A SOLEMN MUSIC BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee, 10 With those just Spirits that wear victorious Hymns devout and holy psalms That we on Earth, with undiscording voice din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd. In perfect diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we soon again renew that Song, 20 And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of THE forward youth that would appear Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing 4 'T is time to leave the books in dust, So restless Cromwell could not cease And like the three-fork'd lightning, first (For 't is all one to courage high, The emulous, or enemy; And with such, to enclose Is more than to oppose;) Then burning through the air he went And Cæsar's head at last 12 16 20 Did through his laurels blast. 24 T is madness to resist or blame And if we would speak true, Who, from his private gardens, where 28 |