At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed; The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, With unexpressive1 notes, to Heaven's new-born heir. Such music, as 'tis said, Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. The oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving: Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving: Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament: Edgéd with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. 1 Unexpressive-inexpressible-such as cannot be described. 2 The oracles, &c.-All the heathen oracles are said to have ceased at the coming of Christ. "Attention," says Dr. Warton, "is irresistibly awakened and engaged by the air of solemnity and enthusiasm that reigns in this stanza, and some that follow." 3 Weeping, &c.-The lamentations of the fabulous tenants of the woods and glades-the dryads, fauns, nymphs, &c.-at leaving their favourite haunts. In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures1 moan with midnight plaint; A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint; While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat. Peor and Baälim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered god3 of Palestine; Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; The Libyc Hammon+ shrinks his horn; In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol5 all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring, They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue: The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud: Within his sacred chest ; Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud; The sabled-stoléd sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. J Lars and Lemures-domestic gods of the Romans, representing the departed spirits of their ancestors. 2 Flamen-the officiating priest of a particular deity and temple. 3 Twice-battered god-Dagon. See 1 Sam. v, 3, 4. 4 Libyc Hammon-Jupiter was worshipped at the Hammonium in Libya, (the oasis now called Siwah,) under the form of a ram. 5 Burning idol, &c.-The brazen idol of Moloch used to be filled with fire, and into its hands, extended for the purpose, infants were put as victims, which soon sank down into the fire and perished there. The cymbals were to drown the childrens' cries. He feels from Judah's land The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyne; Longer dare abide, Nor Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Can in his swaddling bands1 control the damnéd crew. So, when the sun in bed,2 Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin3 upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail; Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted fayes Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest; Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Hath fixed her polished car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. 1 Swaddling bands, &c.-In allusion to the story of the infant Hercules, who strangled two serpents in his cradle. So when the sun, &c.-"Our author has here beautifully applied the vulgar superstition of spirits disappearing at the break of day, as the ground-work of a comparison. All the false gods of every species of heathen religion depart at the birth of Christ, as spectres and demons vanish when the morning dawns: " Warton. 3 Pillows his chin, &c.-" The words pillows' and chin,' throw an air of burlesque and familiarity over a comparison most exquisitely conceived and adapted:' "Warton. 4 Fly after the night-steeds--i. e. the fairies depart at the approach of morning. 5 Youngest-teemed-last-created, see note 4, p. 32. LYCIDA S.1 ABRIDGED. YET Once more,2 O ye laurels, and once more I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 1 This monody was written on occasion of the death of Milton's friend, Mr. Edward King, who was drowned in the Irish Sea, in 1637. It was published in 1638. It is aptly remarked by Dr. Warton, with regard to this beautiful poem, that "He who wishes to know whether he has a true taste for poetry or not, should consider, whether he is highly delighted or not with the perusal of Milton's Lycidas." "Nothing," says an able critic, (Quarterly Review, vol. xxxvi, p. 45.) "was ever so unearthly as Milton's poetry. The most unpromising subject, after passing through his heated mind, comes out purged, and purified, and refined : the terrestrial body dissolves in the process, and we behold in its stead a glorified body. That which was by nature a frail and perishable flower, when transplanted, to his fancy becomes immortal amaranth."" The same writer, after referring to "Comus" as an illustration of this remark, thus also adduces "Lycidas." "His friend perishes by sea as he passes from Chester to Ireland. Again, Milton clothes this naked fact in imagery of his own; and Mr. King is no longer his college companion, but the shepherd with whom he had been accustomed to drive a-field under the opening eye-lids of the morn'—and the crazy vessel is no more a material hulk, but capable of perfidy, and rigged with curses, and built in an eclipse:-and his fellow-students are not besought to honour his memory with their funeral songs, but the muses who loved him are called upon to purple the ground where, in imagination at least, he lies, with fresh flowers, and to lavish upon it the embroidery of spring. The mind of Milton was perfect fairy-land; and every thought which entered it, whether grave or gay, magnificent or mean, quickly partook of a fairy form. We do not believe that he loved his friend less, because he chose to call him Lycidas instead of Mr. King. He thought in romance: the daily occurrences of life were translated into romance, almost before his mind could act upon them." 2 Yet once more, &c.-The poet begins as if he were called on by this sad and unexpected occasion, to break a resolution he had previously made, to refrain from poetry until his genius should be more matured. Hence he speaks of "berries harsh and crude," or unripe. The laurels, myrtles, and ivy, perhaps, mark the poetical, affectionate, and mournful character of the composition. Some however refer the crudeness and immaturity to Mr. King's youth. Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, With lucky words3 favor my destined urn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 6 We drove a-field, and both together heard Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. Tempered to the oaten flute; Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel But oh, the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves, 1 2 Rhyme-i. e. verse, as opposed to prose. Sisters, &c.-The muses, who haunt the fountain Hippocrene, which flows from Mount Helicon, on which there was an altar to Jupiter. 3 Lucky words-words of benediction, or blessing. 4 We were nurst upon, &c.—i. e. we both studied at the same place. 5 Fed the same flock, &c.-All the imagery throughout this poem which represents Mr. King, or the author, as shepherds, refers to their character as students of literature, perhaps especially classical poetry. 6 We drove a-field-i. e. we drove our flocks a field, or began our studies together. Having thus alluded to their studies in the morning, in the next few lines, he indicates that they were carried on together throughout the day until evening. 7 Battening-making fat. |