What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain ?
And questioned every gust of rugged wings
That blows from off each beaked promontory:

They knew not of his story;

And sage Hippotades 1 their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed;
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,

Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

Next Camus,3 reverend sire, went footing slow,
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,

Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge

Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.4

95

100

105

"Ah! who hath reft,' quoth he, my dearest pledge?'
Last came, and last did go,

child

The pilot of the Galilean lake; 5

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain

110

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain),

He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:

'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Enow of such as for their bellies' sake

Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!

115

Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold

A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!

120

What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;

And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs

Grate on their scrannel 6 pipes of wretched straw;

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,

125

But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread :

Beside what the grim wolf with privy paw

Daily devours apace, and nothing said:
But that two-handed engine at the door
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.'
Return, Alpheus,8 the dread voice is past
That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use

1 Æolus, son of Hippotes, and ru.er of the winds.

130

135

frequent

2 One of the daughters of the sea-god Nereus, who attended Neptune, riding on sea-horses.

3 The god of the sluggish river Cam, on which Cambridge stands.

4 The hyacinth, said to have sprung from the blood of Hyacinthus, a Spartan youth, who was killed by a blow from a quoit. Its petals were said to bear the Greek words ai, ai, exclamations of woe.

5 St Peter, who had a boat on the Sea of Galilee.

6 Producing a weak screeching sound.

7 Perhaps the two-edged sword of the Apocalypse is meant, or the metaphorical axe in the gospel, which was to be laid to the root of the tree.

8 A stream supposed to be connected with the fountain Arethusa mentioned above.

Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart-star1 sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attired 2 woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureat hearse 3 where Lycid lies.
For, so to interpose a little ease,

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise ;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world; 4
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,5
Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount
Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold.
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more;

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

rarely

140

early

spotted

145

150

155

160

165

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,

renews

170

175

not to be expressed

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,

1 The swarthy, black, or injurious star, the dog-star 2 Having a handsome attire or head-dress, its flower. 3 Anciently a monument to the memory of the dead. 4 The monstrous world,' the world of monsters.

5 Lines 160-162 were long a puzzle to commentators, and are still somewhat obscure. The place called the fable of Bellerus old' was St Michael's Mount, in Cornwall. It was anciently called Bellerium, from which Milton has formed the name Bellerus, as that of one of the ancient giants of Britain. He represents the archangel Michael appearing as a 'Vision' on this mount, called 'guarded' because it was formerly fortified. Namancos' and 'Bayona' are places on the west coast of Gallicia, in Spain. The sense of lines 161-164 seems to be, as given by Todd, 'O Angel (seated on the guarded mount), look no longer seaward to Namancos and Bayona's hold rather turn your eyes to another object. Look homeward or landward, look towards your own coast now, and view with pity the corpse of the shipwrecked Lycidas floating thither.'

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.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the 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 Doric1 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.

At a Solemn Music.

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ,
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;
And to our high-raised phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne
To Him that sits thereon,

With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee;
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow;
And the Cherubic host in thousand quires

Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,

With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms

Singing everlastingly :

Jarred against Nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made

To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed

In perfect diapason, whilst they stood,

In first obedience and their state of good.

O may we soon again renew that song,

And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long

To his celestial consort us unite,

To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light!

25

chorus, band

1'Doric,' i.e. pastoral. The name Lycidas was adopted from the Greek poet Theocritus, who wrote in the Doric dialect.

Samuel Butler: 1612-1680.
Hudibras's Equipment.

3 Toledo in Spain, so famed for its swords, that a sword was called a Toledo.