And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? (That last infirmity of noble minds) To scorn delights and live laborious days: But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise," Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling eyes, And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds! That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust, of rugged wings, That blows from off each beaked promontory: They knew not of his story; And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd: The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next, Camus, 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. "Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?" Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain, (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! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest ; Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? And call the vales, and bid them hither And O, ye dolphins, waft the hapless no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and, with newspangled ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walk'd 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 No war or battle's sound Was heard the world around: Was kindly come to live with them below; The idle spear and shield were high up Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sov'reign lord was by. But peaceful was the night, When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal fingers strook, Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took : The air, such pleasure loathe to lose, His reign of peace upon the earth With thousand echoes still prolongs each began: The stars, with deep amaze, heavenly close. Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region Now was almost won, To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Bending one way their precious influ- Could hold all heaven and earth in ence; And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, happier union. Or Lucifer had often warn'd them At last surrounds their sight thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow, bid them go. And, though the shady gloom Had given day her room, A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-fac'd The helmed cherubim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings The sun himself withheld his wonted Harping in loud and solemn quire, speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born heir. The new-enlighten'd world no more Such music, as 'tis said, |