The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems (10 page)

Of British Themis,
³³⁶
with no mean
³³⁷
applause

Pronounced
³³⁸
and in his volumes
³³⁹
taught our laws,

Which others at their Bar
³⁴⁰
so often wrench
³⁴¹
—

Today deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
³⁴²

In mirth, that after no repenting draws.
³⁴³

Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,

And what the Swede
³⁴⁴
intends, and what the French!

To measure life, learn thou betimes
³⁴⁵
and know

Toward solid
³⁴⁶
good what leads the nearest way.

For other things, mild Heav’n a time ordains,

And disapproves that care, though wise in show,

That with superfluous burden loads the day

And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains!

SONNET 22

1655

Cyriack, this three years day these eyes, though clear

To outward view of blemish or of spot,

Bereft
³⁴⁷
of light their seeing have forgot,

Nor to their idle
³⁴⁸
orbs doth sight appear

Of sun, or moon, or star throughout the year,

Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate
³⁴⁹
a jot
³⁵⁰

Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer

Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?

The conscience, friend, t’ have lost them overplied
³⁵¹

In liberty’s defense, my noble task,

Of which all Europe talks from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask,

Content, though blind, had I no better guide.

SONNET 23

1656–58?

Methought I saw my late espousèd saint
³⁵²

Brought to me, like Alcestis,
³⁵³
from the grave,

Who Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave,

Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.

Mine as whom, washed from spot of child-bed taint,
³⁵⁴

Purification in th’ old law
³⁵⁵
did save,

And such as yet once more I trust to have

Full sight of her in Heav’n, without restraint,
³⁵⁶

Came vested
³⁵⁷
all in white, pure as her mind.

Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight

Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shined

So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O, as to embrace me she inclined,
³⁵⁸

I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.

ON SHAKESPEARE

1630

What needs my Shakespeare, for his honored bones,

The labor of an age in pilèd stones,

Or that his hallowed relics should be hid

Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory,
³⁵⁹
great heir of fame,

What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?

Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a livelong monument!

For whilst to th’ shame of slow-endeavoring
³⁶⁰
art

Thy easy numbers
³⁶¹
flow, and that each heart

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued
³⁶²
book

Those Delphic
³⁶³
lines with deep
³⁶⁴
impression
³⁶⁵
took,

Then thou our fancy, of itself bereaving,
³⁶⁶

Dost make us marble
³⁶⁷
with too much conceiving,
³⁶⁸

And so sepulchred
³⁶⁹
in such pomp
³⁷⁰
dost lie

That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER
³⁷¹

1631

who sickened in the time of his vacancy,
³⁷²
being forbid to

go to London by reason of the Plague.

Here lies old Hobson.
³⁷³
Death has broke his girt
³⁷⁴

And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt,

Or else the ways
³⁷⁵
being foul, twenty to one

He’s here stuck in a slough,
³⁷⁶
and overthrown.

’Twas such a shifter,
³⁷⁷
that if truth were known,

Death was half glad when he had got him down,

For he had any time this ten years full
³⁷⁸

Dodged
³⁷⁹
with him, betwixt Cambridge and The Bull.
³⁸⁰

And surely, Death could never have prevailed

Had not his weekly course of carriage
³⁸¹
failed,

But lately finding him so long at home,

And thinking now his journey’s end was come,

And that he had ta’en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlain
³⁸²

Showed him his room where he must lodge that night,

Pulled off his boots, and took away the light.
³⁸³

If any ask for him, it shall be said,

“Hobson has supped, and’s newly gone to bed.”

ANOTHER ON THE SAME

1631

Here lieth one who did most truly prove

That he could never die while he could move,

So hung
³⁸⁴
his destiny never to rot
³⁸⁵

While he might still jog on and keep his trot,

Made of sphere-metal,
³⁸⁶
never to decay

Until his revolution
³⁸⁷
was at stay.
³⁸⁸

Time numbers
³⁸⁹
motion, yet (without a crime

’Gainst old truth) motion numbered out his time,

And like an engine
³⁹⁰
moved with wheel and weight,

His principles
³⁹¹
being ceased, he ended straight.
³⁹²

Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,

And too much breathing
³⁹³
put him out of breath.

Nor were it contradiction to affirm

Too long vacation hastened on his term.
³⁹⁴

Merely to drive the time away
³⁹⁵
he sickened,

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quickened.
³⁹⁶

“Nay,” quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched,

“If I may not carry, sure I’ll ne’er be fetched,
³⁹⁷

But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers,

For one carrier put down
³⁹⁸
to make six bearers.”
³⁹⁹

Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right

He died for heaviness
⁴⁰⁰
that his cart went light.

His leisure
⁴⁰¹
told him that his time was come,

And lack of load
⁴⁰²
made his life burdensome,