Milton.

Milton.

Unter den jugendlichen Arbeiten dieses großen epischen Dichters (geb. 1608. gest. 1674.) giebt es zwei vortreffliche kleine poetische Gemåhlde, L'Allegro und Il Penferoso, wos rin er die verschiednen Gesichtspunkte, aus welchen der Fröhliche und der Schwermüthige die Gegenstände der Natur und des Lebens ansehen, und die dadurch ganz vers schieden gestimmten Empfindungen beider meisterhaft ausges drückt hat. Vornehmlich suchte er, wie Dr. Johnson bez merkt, zu zeigen, wie aus der Reihe mannichfaltiger Gegens ftånde und Eindrücke jede von diesen beiden Gemüthoftimz mungen diejenigen auffasst, wodurch ihr am meisten gewills fahrt, wodurch ihre herrschende Empfindung am meisten uns terhalten wird. Man sehe die schöne Zergliederung, welcheer (Lives of the Engl. Poets, Vol. I. p. 227. ss.) von beiden Gedichten, in dieser Hinsicht, giebt. Nur das Kolorit der Schreibart scheint ihm nicht abstechend genug zu seyn; denn auch in der Sprache des Fröhlichen herrscht ein gewiffer schwermüthiger Gang. Wenn aber dieser Mangel auch wirklich gegründet wäre; so hat ihm doch Händel durch seis ne herrliche Komposition, und besonders durch den glücklis chen Gedanken abgeholfen, die von ihm aus beiden Stücken gewählten einzelnen Stellen wechselsweise auf einander fol gen zu lassen.

L'ALLEGRO.

Hence, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born

In Stygian cave forlorn.

'Mongft horrid shapes, and fhrieks, and fights
unholy!

Find out fome uncouth cell,

Where brooding darknefs fpreads his jealous

wings

And the night-raven fings;

Milton.

There under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks

As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell!
But come thou goddefs fair and free,
In heav'n ycleap'd Euphrofyne,
And by men, heart-eafing Mirth
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two fifter Graces more
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as fome fager fing,
The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,

As he met her once a-Maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown rofes wafh'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonnair.
Hafte thee nymph, and bring with thee
Je eft and youthful Jollity,

Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek
And lowe to live in dimple fleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his fides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,

And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain-nymph, fweet Liberty;
And if I give the honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And finging startle the dull night,
From his watch-tow'r in the fkies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rife ;
Then to come in fpite of forrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,

1

Trough

Milton.

Through the fweet-briar, or the vine,

Or the twisted eglantine:

While the cock with lively din

Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn door,
Stoutly ftruts his dames before:
Oft lift'ning how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the flumb'ring morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking not unseen
By hedge-row elms, on hilloks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid fingeth blithe,
And the mower whets his fithe,
And every fhepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilft the landscape round it measures,
Ruffet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whofe barren breaft
The lab'ring clouds do often reft,
Meadows trim with daifies died,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighb'ring eyes,
Hard by a cottage-chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met
Are at their favoury dinner fet
Of herbs, and other country-meffes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreffes;

niilton And then in hafte her bow'r fhe leaves,
With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;
Or if the earlier feafon lead

To the tann'd haycock in the mead,
Sometimes with fecure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecs found

To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd fhade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a funf hine holyday,

Till the live-long day-light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With ftories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab the junkets eat,
She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said,
And he by friars lantern led

Tells how the drudging Goblin fwet,
To earn his cream-bowl duly fet,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His fhadowy flail hath threfh'd the corn,
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend,
And ftretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Bafks a the fire his hairy ftrength,
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whifp'ring winds foon lull'd afleep.
Tow'red cities pleafe us then,
And the bufy hum of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With ftore of ladies, whofe bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend,
There let Hymen oft appear

In faffron robe, with taper clear,

And

And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mark and antique pageantry,
Such fights as youthful poets dream
On fummer eves by haunted ftream.
Then to the well-trod ftage anon,
If Johnfon's learned fock be on,
Or fweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in foft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verfe,

Such as the meeting foul may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked fweetness long drawn out,
With wanton head, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden foul of harmony;

That Orpheus felf may heave his head
From golden flumber on a bed
Of heap'd Elyfian flow'rs, and hear
Such ftrains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free,
His half regain'd Furydice.
Thefe delights if thou canft give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live,

Milton.