The Creator calling forth by name

The Earth was form'd, but, in the womb as yet
Thee, Father, first they sung Omnipotent

Thee I revisit safe

The end then of learning is to repair the ruins
The Enemy of mankind, enclosed

The Eternal

The Father Infinite

The field

The Fiend

The... Fiend

The great Son of God

The heavenly bands

2

The multitude of Angels, with a shout

Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taught

Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame

The orb he roam'd

The powers militant

The power that did create can change the scene

Jan.

23

25

June 25
Nov. 27

The providence of God is either ordinary or extraordinary Jan.

These are the men cried out against

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good
The setting sun

- Oct.

The third sacred morn began to shine
The virtuous mind.

walks attended

The winged Saint

The World shall burn, and from her ashes spring
They

They err who count it glorious to subdue
They, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
They mock my toil-the nymphs and amorous swains
They sat them down to weep; nor only tears
They who seek nothing but their own just liberty
Think not so slight of glory, therein least
This answer from the gracious Voice Divine
This having learn'd, thou hast attain'd the sum
This is the month, and this the happy morn
This place

Jan. 14

Sept. 21 March 3 9

- June - May II

This rich marble doth inter

Those who attribute the creation of everything
Thou are become (O worst imprisonment!)
Though in Heaven the trees

Though your physician may kindle a small ray
Thou hatest not the gentle Muse
"Thou Sun" said I, "fair light'

Thou, therefore, that sittest in light and glory -
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers
Thus Michael: "Death thou hast seen

Truth indeed came once into the world
Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall

Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
Up they sprung

Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old
Victory and triumph to the Son of God
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would
Virgin, daughter of Locrine

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more
We live

Nov.

12

What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones
What slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never
When I approach

When I behold this goodly frame, this World -
When I consider how my light is spent

Whether thus these things, or whether not
Which of us beholds the bright surface
While I sit with thee, I seem in Heaven

Who aspires must down as low

Who is there who does not identify the honour
"Whom send I to judge them? whom but thee"
Who ... supposest

Wisdom's self

With dispatchful looks in haste

With tract oblique

Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves
Wonderful indeed are all his works -

Ye flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more

"For since from my youth I was devoted to the pursuits of literature, and my mind had always been stronger than my body, I did not court the labours of a camp, in which any common person would have been of more service than myself, but resorted to that employment in which my exertions were likely to be of most avail. Thus, with the better part of my frame I contributed as much as possible to the good of my country, and to the success of the glorious cause in which we were engaged; and I thought that if God willed the success of such glorious achievements, it was equally agreeable to his will that there should be others by whom those achievements should be recorded with dignity and elegance; and that the truth, which had been defended by arms, should also be defended by reason: which is the best and only legitimate means of defending it."-The Second Defence of the People of England.

A DAY BOOK OF MILTON

JANUARY I

ON TIME

FLY, 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 every thing 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 earthy grossness quit,

Attired with stars we shall for ever sit,

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!

NATURE UNIMPAIRED BY TIME

HOW?-shall the face of nature then be ploughed
Into deep wrinkles, and shall years at last

On the great Parent fix a sterile curse?
Shall even she confess old age, and, halt
And palsy-smitten, shake her starry brows?
Shall foul Antiquity with rust and drought,
And Famine, vex the radiant worlds above?
Shall Time's unsated maw crave and ingulf
The very heavens, that regulate his flight?
And was the Sire of all able to fence

His works, and to uphold the circling worlds,
But, through improvident and heedless haste,
Let slip the occasion?

No. The Almighty Father surer laid
His deep foundations, and, providing well
For the event of all, the scales of Fate
Suspended in just equipoise, and bade
His universal works, from age to age,
One tenor hold, perpetual, undisturbed.

Thou too, thy ancient vegetative power
Enjoy'st, O Earth! Narcissus still is sweet,
And, Phoebus! still thy favourite, and still
Thy favourite, Cytherea! both retain
Their beauty; nor the mountains, ore-enriched
For punishment of man, with purer gold
Teemed ever, or with brighter gems the deep.
Thus, in unbroken series, all proceeds;
And shall, till wide involving either pole,
And the immensity of yonder heaven,
The final flames of destiny absorb

The world, consumed in one enormous pyre!

COWPER'S TRANSLATION