MILTON. ON TIME. Written at Cambridge about 1630. FLY, LY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race; Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false, and vain, And merely mortal dross ; 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 consumed, Then long eternity shall greet our bliss, With an individual kiss; And joy shall overtake us as a flood, When everything that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then, all this earthly grossness quit, Attired with stars we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, O time! MILTON. AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. Written at Cambridge about 1630. BLEST pair of sirens, pledges of heaven's joy, Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee ; Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise, As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In first obedience, and their state of good. Oh, may we soon again renew that song, And keep in tune with heaven, till God, ere long To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light! COWLEY. THE PRAISE OF PINDAR. Written in Paris, about 1645, during the Royalist exile, and first printed in the volume of 1656. I. INDAR is imitable by none; PINT The Phoenix Pindar is a vast species alone, Whoe'er but Daedalus with waxen wings could fly What could he who followed claim, And by his fall a sea to name? Pindar's unnavigable song Like a swoln flood from some steep mountain pours along ; The ocean meets with such a voice From his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noise. II. So Pindar does new words and figures roll Which in no channel deigns to abide, Which neither banks nor dykes control; |