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,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever 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.

175

180

185

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the caks 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, 190
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.

SONNETS.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE.

O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,

5

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love. O, if Jove's will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft
lay,

Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

9

Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why.

Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF
TWENTY-THREE.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!

My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth

98

5

That I to manhood am arrived so near;

And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even

IO

To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;

All is, if I have grace to use it so,

As ever in my great Task-Master's eye.

WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY.

CAPTAIN, or Colonel, or Knight in arms,

Whose chance on these defenceless doors may
seize,

If ever deed of honour did thee please,
Guard them, and him within protect from

harms.

He can requite thee; for he knows the charms

5

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:

ΙΟ

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 the Athenian walls from ruin bare.

TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth

Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green,

And with those few art eminently seen That labour up the hill of heavenly truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth

Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends

5

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 10
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be

sure

Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends

Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night,

Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure.

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, Till the sad breaking of that Parliament

Broke him, as that dishonest victory

At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

5

Killed with report that old man eloquent; Though later born than to have known the days Wherein your father flourished, yet by you, 10 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.

ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES.

A BOOK was writ of late called Tetrachordon,

And woven close, both matter, form, and style;
The subject new: it walked the town a while,
Numbering good intellects; now seldom
poured on.

Cries the stall-reader, ' Bless us! what a word on
A title-page is this!'; and some in file.

Stand spelling false, while one might walk to
Mile-

End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than
Gordon,

Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek

ΙΟ

That would have made Quintilian stare and

gasp.

Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught'st Cambridge and King
Edward Greek,