First was the world as one great cymbal made^
Where jarring winds to infant nature played ;
AH music was a solitary sound,
To hollow rocks and murmuring fountains bound.
Where jarring winds to infant nature played ;
AH music was a solitary sound,
To hollow rocks and murmuring fountains bound.
Marvell - Poems
Then none can spy :
Or shine thou there, and 'tis the sky.
CHORUS.
Joy to Endtmion !
For he has Ctnthia's favour won,
And Jove himself approves
With his serenest influence their loves.
For he did never love to pair
His progeny above the air,
But to be honest, valiant, wise,
Makes mortals matches fit for deities.
Digitized by
OP MABYELL. 79
SECOND SONG.
HOBBINOL, PHILLIS, TOMAUN.
HOBBINOL.
Fhillis, Tomalin, away I
Never such a merry day,
For the northern shepherd's son
Has Menalcas' daughter won.
PHILLIS.
Stay till I some flowers have tied
In a. garland for the bride.
TOMALIN.
If thou would'st a garland bring,
Phil LIS, you may wait the spring :
They have chosen such ah hour
When she is the only flower.
PHILLIS.
Let's not then, at least, be seen
Without each a sprig of green.
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80 THE POEMS
HOBBINOL.
Fear not ; at Menalcas' hall
There are bays enough for all.
He, when young as we, did graze^
But when old he planted bays.
TOMALIN.
Here she comes ; but with a look
Far more catching than my hook ;
*Twa8 those eyes, I now dare swear.
Led our lambs we knew not where.
HOBBINOL.
Not our lambs own fleeces are
Curled so lovely as her hair,
Nor our sheep new-washed can be
Half so white or sweet as she.
PHILLIS.
He so looks as fit to keep
Somewhat else than silly sheep.
HOBBINOL.
Come, let's in some carol new
Pay to love and them their due.
ALL.
Joy to that happy pair
Whose hopes united banish our despair.
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OF MARVELL. 81
What shepherd could for love pretend.
Whilst all the nymphs on Damon's choice attend ?
What shepherdess could hope to wed
Before Marina's turn were sped ?
Now lesser beauties may take place,
And meaner virtues come in play,
While they,
Looking from high,
Shall grace
Our stocks and us with a propitious eye.
But what is most, the gentle swain
No more shall need of love complain ;
But virtue shall be beauty's hire,
And those be equal, that have equal fire.
Marina yields. Who dares be coy ?
Or who despair, now Damon does enjoy ?
Joy to that happy pair.
Whose hopes united banish our despair 1
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82 THE POEMS
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THYRSIS AND
DORINDA.
DORINDA.
When death shall snatch us from these kids,
And shut up our divided lids,
Tell me, Thyrsis, prythee do,
Whither thou and I must go.
THYRSIS.
To the Elysium.
DORINDA.
Oh, where is't ?
THYRSIS.
A chaste soul can never miss't.
DORINDA.
I know no way but one ; our home
Is our Elysium.
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OF MARVELL. 83
THTRSIS.
Cast thine eye to yonder sky,
There the milky way doth lie ;
*Tis a sure, but rugged way,
That leads to everlasting day.
DORINDA.
There birds may nest, but how can I,
That have no wings and cannot fly ?
THTBSIS.
Do not sigh, fair nymph, for fire
Hath no wings, yet doth aspire
Till it hit against the pole ;
Heaven's the centre of the souL
DORINDA.
But in Elysium how do they
Pass eternity away ?
THTRSIS.
O ! there's neither hope nor fear,
There's no wolf, no fox, no bear.
No need of dog to fetch our stray.
Our Lightfoot we may give away ;
And there, most sweetly, may thine ear
Feast with the music of the sphere.
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84 THE rORMS
DOBINDA.
How I my future state,
By silent thinking, antedate !
I prythee let us spend our time, come.
In talking of Elysium.
THTRSIS.
Then I'll go on ; there sheep are full
Of softest grass, and softest wool ;
There birds sing consorts, garlands grow,
Cool winds do whisper, springs do flow ;
There always is a rising sun,
And day is ever but begun ;
Shepherds there bear equal sway,
And every nymph's a queen of May.
DOBINDA.
Ah me I ah me I
THYRSIS.
DoRiNDA, why dost cry ?
DORINDA.
I'm sick^ Fm sick^ and fain would die.
THTRSIS.
Convince me now that this is true
By bidding, with me, all adieu.
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OF MABYELL. 85
DORINDA.
I cannot live without thee, I
Will for thee, much more with thee, die.
TUTRSIS*
Then let us give Corellia charge o*the sheep.
And thou and I pick poppies and them steep
In wine, and drink of it e*en till we weep,
So shall we smoothly pass away in sleep*
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86 THE POEMS
THE MATCH.
Natitbb had long a treasure made,
Of all her chaicest store,
Fearing^ when she should be decayed.
To beg in vain for more.
n.
Her orientest colours there,
And essences most pure,
With sweetest perfumes hoarded were,
All, as she thought, secure,
III.
She seldom them unlocked or used
But with the nicest care ;
For, with one grain of them diffused.
She could the world repair.
IV.
But likeness soon together drew,
What she did separate lay ;
Of which one perfect beauty grew,
And that was Celia.
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09 BIARYELL. 87
Love wisely had of long foreseen
That he must once grow old.
And therefore stored a magazine
To save him from the cold.
VI*
He kept the several cells replete
With nitre thrice refined,
The naphtha's and the sulphur's heat.
And all that bums the mind.
vn.
He fortified the double gate.
And rarely thither came ;
For, with one spark of these, he straight
All nature could inflame.
VIII*
Till, by vicinity so long,
A nearer way they sought,
And, grown magnetically strong.
Into each other wrought.
IX.
Thus all his fuel did unite
To make one fire high :
None ever burned so hot, so bright :
And, Celia, that am I.
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88 THE POBM8
So we alone the happj rest.
Whilst all the world is poor,
And have within ourselves possessed
All love's and nature's store.
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OF HABVBLL. 89
THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS.
LuxuBious man, to bring bis vice in use,
Did after bim tbe world seduce,
And from tbe fields tbe flowers and plants allure,
Wbere nature was most plain and pure.
He first inclosed witbin tbe gardens square
A dead and standing pool of air,
And a more luscious eartb from them did knead,
Wbicb stupefied tbem wbile it fed.
Tbe pink grew tben as double as bis mind ;
Tbe nutriment did cbange the kind.
With strange perfumes be did tbe roses taint;
And flowers themselves were taught to paint.
Tbe tulip white did for complexion seek,
And learned to interline its cheek ;
Its union root they tben so high did hold,
That one was for a meadow sold :
Another world was searched through oceans new,
To find tbe marble of Peru,
And yet these rarities might be allowed
To man, that sovereign thing and proud,
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90 THE POEMS'
Had he not dealt between the bark and tree.
Forbidden mixtures there to see.
No plant now knew the stock from which it came ;
He grafts upon the wild the tame,
That the uncertain and adulterate fruit
Might put the palate in dispute.
His green seraglio has its eunuchs too,
Lest any tyrant him outdo,
And in the cherry he does nature vex,
To proci*eate without a sex.
'Tis all enforced, the fountain and the grot,
While the sweet fields do lie forgot,
Where willing nature does to all dispense
A wild and fragrant innocence.
And fauns and fairies do the meadows till
More by their presence than their skill.
Their statues, polished by some ancient hand.
May to adorn the gardens stand,
But, howsoe'er the figures do excel.
The Gods themselves with us do dwell.
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OP MARYELL* 91
* DAMON THE MOWER.
Hark how the Mower Damon sung,
With love of Juliana stung,
While every thing did seem to paint
The scene more fit for his complaint !
Like her fair eyes the day was fair,
But scorching like his amorous care ;
Sharp, like his scythe, his sorrow was,
And withered, like his hopes, the grass.
Oh what unusual heats are here.
Which thus our sun-burned meadows fear !
The grasshopper its pipe gives o'er,
And hamstringed frogs can dance no more,
But in the brook the gi*een frog wades.
And grasshoppers seek out the shades ;
Only the snake, that kept within,
Now glitters in its second skin.
This heat the sun could never raise,
Nor dog-star so inflame the days ;
It from an higher beauty groweth.
Which burns the fields and mower both.
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92 TUB POKMS
Which made the dog, aiid makes the san
Hotter than his own Phaeton ;
Not July causeth tliesc extremes,
But Juliana's scorching beams.
Tell me where I may pass the fires
Of the hot day, or hot desires ;
To what cool cave shall I descend.
Or to what gelid fountain bend ?
Alas ! I look for ease in vain,
\Vhen remedies themselves complain,
No moisture but my tears do rest,
Nor cold but in her icy breast.
How long wilt thou, fair shepherdess,
Esteem me and my presents less ?
To thee the harmless snake I bring.
Disarmed of its teeth and sting ;
To thee chameleons, changing hue,
And oak leaves tipt with honey dew ;
Yet thou ungrateful hast not sought
Nor what they are, nor who them brought.
I am the mower Damon, known
Through all the meadows I have mown.
On me the morn her dew distils
Before her darling daffodils.
And, if at noon my toil me heat,
The sun himself licks off my sweat ;
While going home the evening sweet
In cowslip-water batlis my feet.
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OF MARVELL. 93
What though the piping shepherd stock
The plains with an unnumbered flock.
This scythe of mine discovers wide
More ground than all his sheep do hide.
With this the golden fleece I shear
Of all these closes every year,
And though in wool more poor than they,
Yet I am richer far in hay.
Nor am I so deformed to sight.
If in my scythe I looked right ;
In which I see my picture done.
As in a crescent moon the sun.
The deathless fairies take me ofl
To lead them in their dances soft,
And when I tune myself to sing.
About me they contract their ring.
How happy might I still have mowed.
Had not Love here his thistle sowed I
But now I all the day complain.
Joining my labour to my pain,
And with my scythe cut down the grass.
Yet still my grief is where it was ;
But when the iron blunter grows,
Sighing I whet my scythe and woes.
While thus he drew his elbow round,
Depopulating all the ground,
And, with his whistling scythe, does cut
Each stroke between the earth and root,
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94 THE POEMS
The edged steel, by careless chance,
Did into his own ankle glance,
And there among the grass fell down.
By his own scythe the mower mown.
Alas ! said he, these hurts are slight
To those that die by love's despite.
With shepherd's-purse, and clown's all-heal,
The blood I stanch and wound I seal.
Only for him no cure is found,
Whom Juliana's eyes do wound ;
'Tis death alone that this must do ;
For, Death, thou art a Mower too.
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OF BIARVELL. 95
THE MOWER TO THE GLOW WORMS.
Ye living lamps, by whose dear light
The nightingale does sit so late.
And studying all the summer night,
Her matchless songs does meditate ;
ir.
Ye country comets, that portend
No war nor prince's funeral,
Shining unto no other end
Than to presage the grass's fall ;
III.
Ye Glow-worms, whose officious flame
To wandering mowers shows the way,
That in the night have lost their aim,
And afler foolish fires do stray ;
IV.
Your courteous lights in vain you waste,
Since Juliana here is come.
For she my mind hath so displaced.
That I shall never find my home.
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96 THE POEMS
THE MOWER'S SONG.
Mt mind was once the true survey
Of all these meadows fresh and gay,
And in the greenness of the grass
Did see its hopes as in a glass,
When Juliana came, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
II.
But these, while I with sorrow pine,
Gi-ew more luxuriant still and fine,
That not one blade of grass you spied,
But had a flower on either side, —
When Juliana came, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to my tlioughts
and me.
III.
Unthankful meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gaudy May-games meet.
While I lay trodden under feet,
Digitized by
OF MARVELL. 97
When Juliana came, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to mj thoughts
and me ?
rv.
But what you in compassion ought.
Shall now by my revenge be wrought,
And flowers, and grass, and I, and all,
Will in one common ruin fell ;
For Juliana comes, and she.
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
V.
And thus, ye meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my tomb ;
For Juliana comes, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
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98 THE POEMS
AMETAS AND THESTYLIS MAKING HAY-
ROPES.
AMETAS.
Think'st thou that this love can stand,
Whilst thou still dost say me nay ?
Love unpaid does soon disband :
Love binds love, as hay binds hay.
THESTYLIS.
Think'st thou that this rope would twine.
If we both should turn one way ?
Where both parties so combine,
Neither love will twist, nor hay.
AMETAS.
Thus you vain excuses find.
Which yourself and us delay :
And love ties a woman's mind.
Looser than with ropes of hay.
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OF MARVELL. 99
THESTTLIS.
What 70U cannot constant hope
Must be taken as you may.
AMETAS.
Then let's both lay by our rope,
And go kiss within the hay.
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100 THE POEMS
MUSICS EMPIRE.
First was the world as one great cymbal made^
Where jarring winds to infant nature played ;
AH music was a solitary sound,
To hollow rocks and murmuring fountains bound.
Jubal first made the wilder notes agree,
And Jubal tuned Music's Jubilee ;
He called the echoes from their sullen cell.
And built the organ's city, where they dwell ;
Each sought a consort in that lovely place,
And virgin trebles wed the manly base,
From whence the progeny of numbers new
Into harmonious colonies withdrew ;
Some to the lute, some to the viol went,
And others chose the comet eloquent ;
These practising the wind, and those the win*.
To sing man's triumphs, or in heaven's choir.
Then music, the mosaic of the air.
Did of all these a solemn noise prepare,
With which she gained the empire of the ear,
Including all between the earth and sphcri? .
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OP MARVELL. 101
Victorious sounds ! yet here your homage do
Unto a gentler conqueror tlian you ;
Who, though he flies the music of iiis praise,
Would with you heaven's hallelujahs raise.
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102 THE POEMS
TO HIS
WORTHY FRIEND DOCTOR WITTY,
UPON HIS TBANSLATION OF THE POPULAR ERltOK. S.
Sit farther and make room for thine own fame,
Where just desert enrolls thj honoured name.
The Grood Interpreter. Some in this task
Take off the cypress veil, but leave a mask,
Changing the Latin, but do more obscure
That sense in English which was bright and
pure.
So of translators they are authors grown.
For ill translators make the book their own.
Others do strive with words and forced phrase
To add such lustre, and so many rays.
That but to make the vessel shining, they
Much of the precious metal rub away.
He is translation's thief that addeth more,
As much as he that taketh from the store
Of the first author. Here he maketh blots,
That mends ; and added beauties are but spots.
C^LIA whose English doth more richly flow
Than Tagus, purer than dissolved snow.
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OP MARVELL. 103
And sweet as are her lips that speak it, she
Now learns the tongues of France and Italy ;
But she is C^elia still ; no other grace
But her own smiles commend that lovely face ;
Her native beauty's not Italianated,
Nor her chaste mind into the French translated ;
Her thoughts are English, tl>ough her speaking
wit
With other language doth them featly fit.
Translators, learn of her : but stay, I slide
Down into error with the vulgar tide ;
Women must not teach here : the doctor doth
Stint them to cordials, almond-milk, and broth.
Now I reform, and surely so will all
Whose happy eyes on thy translation fall.
I see the people hastening to thy book.
Liking themselves the worse the more they look.
And so disliking, that they nothing see
Now worth the liking, but thy book and thee.
And (if I judgment have) 1 censure right,
For something guides mj hand that I must
write;
You have translation's statutes best fulfilled,
That handUng neither sully nor would gild.
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104 THE rOKMS
ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.
When IH)eheld the poet blind, yet bold,
In slender book his vast design unfold,
Messiah crowned, God*s reconciled decree,
Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree,
Heaven, hell, earth, chaos, all ; the argument
Held me awhile misdoubting his intent,
That he would ruin (for I saw him strong)
The sacred truths to fable and old song ;
So Samson groped the temple's posts in spite.
The world o'erwhelming to revenge his sight
Yet as I read, soon growing less severe,
I liked his project, the success did fear ;
Through that wide field how he his way should
find,
O'er which lame faith leads understanding blind ;
Lest he'd perplex the things he would explain.
And what was easy he should render vain.
Or if a work so infinite he spanned,
Jealous I was that some less skilful hand
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OF MARVELL. 105
(Such as disquiet always what is well,
And by ill imitating would excel)
Might hence presume the whole creation's day
To change in scenes, and show it in a play.
Pardon me, mighty poet, nor despise
My causeless, yet not impious, surmise.
But I am now convinced, and none will dare
Within thy labours to pretend a share.
Thou hast not missed one thought that could
befit,
And all that was improper dost omit ;
So that no room is here for writers lefl,
But to detect their ignorance or theft.
That majesty which through thy work doth
reign
Draws the devout, deterring the profane ;
And things divine thou treat'st of in such state
As them preserves, and thee, inviolate.
At once delight and horror on us seize,
Thou sing'st with so much gravity and ease.
And above human fiight dost soar aloft,
With plume so strong, so equal, and so soft :
The bird named from that paradise you sing
So never flags, but always keeps on wing.
Where couldst thou words of such a compass find ?
Whence furnish such a vast expanse of mind ?
Just heaven thee, like Tiresias, to requite,
Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight.
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106 THE POEMS
Well might thou scorn thy readers to allure
With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure.
While the Town-Bay es writes all the while «nd
spells^
And like a pack-horse tires without his bells.
Their fancies like our bushy points appear :
The poets tag them, we for fashion wear.
I too, transported by the mode, offend,
And while I meant to praise thee, must commend ;
Thy verse created like thy theme sublime.
In number, weight, and measure, needs not
rhyme.
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OP MARVELL. 107
AN EPITAPH.
Enough ; and leave the rest to fame ;
Tis to commend her, but to name.
Courtship, which, living, she declined,
When dead, to offer were unkind.
Where never any could speak ill,
Who would officious praises spill ?
Nor can the truest wit, or friend,
Without deti'acting, her commend ;
To say, she lived a virgin chaste
In this age loose and all unlaced,
Nor was, when vice is so allowed,
Of virtue or ashamed or proud ;
That her soul was on heaven so bent,
No minute but it came and went;
That, ready her last debt to pay.
She summed her life up every day ;
Modest as moim, as mid-day bright.
Gentle as evening, cool as night ;
*Tis true ; but all too weakly said :
*Twas more significant, she's dead.
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108 THE POEMS
TRANSLATED FROM SENECA'S TRAGEDY
OF THYESTES.
CHORUS II.
Climb, at court, for me, that wiU,
Tottering favour's pinnacle ;
All I seek is to lie still :
Settled in some secret nest,
In calm leisure . let me rest,
And, far off the public stage.
Pass away my silent age.
Thus, when, without noise, unknown,
I have lived out all my span,
I shall die, without a groan.
An old honest countryman.
Who, exposed to other's eyes.
Into his own heart never pries.
Death to him*s a strange surprise.
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OF MARy£LL. 109
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE RESOLVED
SOUL, AND CREATED PLEASURE.
Courage, my soul ! now learn to wield
The weight of thine immortal shield ;
Close on thy head thy helmet bright ;
Balance thy sword against the fight ;
See where an army, strong as fair,
With silken banners spread the air !
Now, if thou be'st that thing divine,
In this day's combat let it shine.
And show that nature wants an art
To conquer one resolved heart.
PLEASURE.
Welcome ; the creation's guest,
Lord of earth, and heaven's heir I
Lay aside that warlike crest,
And of nature's banquet share.
Where the souls of fruits and flowers.
Stand prepared to heighten yours.
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110 THE POEMS
SOUL.
I sup above, and cannot stay,
To bait so long upon the way.
PLEASURE.
On these downy pillows lie,
Whose soft plumes will thither fly :
On these roses, strewed so plain
Lest one leaf thy side should strain.
80UL.
My gentler rest is on a thought,
Conscious of doing what I ought.
PLEASURE.
If thou be*st with perfumes pleased,
Such as ofl the gods appeased,
Thou in fragrant clouds shalt show.
Like another god below.
SOUL.
A soul that knows not to presume.
Is Heaven's, and its own, perfume.
PLEASURE.
Every thing does seem to vie
Which should first attract thine eye :
But since none deserves that grace,
In this crystal view thy face.
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OP MARVELL. Ill
SOUL.
When the Creator's skill is prized,
The rest is all but earth disguised.
PLEASURE.
Hark how music then prepares
For thy stay these charming airs,
Which the posting winds recall,
And suspend the river's fall.
SOUL.
Had I but any time to lose,
On thb I would it all dispose.
Cease tempter ! None can chain a mind,
Whom this sweet cordage ainnot bind.
CHORUS.
Earth cannot show so brave a sight,
As when a single soul does fence
The battery of alluring sense.
And Heaven views it with delight.
Then persevere ; for still new charges sound,
And if thou overcom*st thou shalt be crowned.
PLEASURE.
All that's costly, fair, and sweet,
Which scatteringly doth shine.
Shall within one beauty meet.
And she be only thine.
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112 THE POEMS
SOUL.
If things of sight such heavens he,
What heavens are those we cannot see ?
PLEASURE.
Wheresoe'er thy foot shall go
The minted gold shall lie,
Till thou purchase all helow,
And want new worlds to buy.
SOUL.
Wer't not for price who*d value gold ?
And that's worth naught that can be sold.
PLEASURE.
Wilt thou all the glory have
That war or peace commend ?
Half the world shall be thy slave,
The other half thy friend.
SOUL.
What friends, if to myself untrue ?
What slaves, unless I captive you ?
PLEASURE.
Thou shalt know each hidden cause,
And see the future time,
Try what depth the centre draws,
And then to heaven climb.
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OF MARVELL. 113
SOUL.
None thither mounts by the degree
Of knowledge, but humility.
CHORUS.
Triumph, triumph, victorious soul !
The world has not one pleasure more :
The rest does lie beyond the pole,
And is thine everlasting store.
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114 THE POEMS
A DROP OF DEW.
(TRAjrtLATSD. )
See, how the orient ^ew.
Shed from the bosom of the mom^
Into the blowing roses,
(Yet careless of its mansion new,
For the clear region where 'twas bom,)
Round in itself incloses
And, in its little globe's extent,
Frames, as it can, its native element.
How it the purple flower does shgbt,
Scarce touching where it lies ;
But gazing back upon the skies,
Shines with a mournful light,
Like its own tear,
Because so long divided from the sphere.
Restless it rolls, and unsecure,
Trembling, lest it grow impure ;
Till the warm sun pities its pain,
And to the skies exhales it back a<;ain.
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OF MABYELL. 115
So the souly that drop, that raj,
Of the clear fountain of eternal day,
Could it within the human flower be seen,
Remembering still its former height.
Shuns the sweet leaves, and blossoms green,
And, recollecting its own light.
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express
The greater heaven in a heaven less.
In how coy a figure wound.
Every way it turns away,
So the world excluding round,
Yet receiving in the day.
Dark beneath, but bright above.
Here disdaining, there in love.
How loose and easy hence to go ;
How girt and ready to ascend ;
Moving but on a point below.
It all about does upwards bend.
Such did the manna's sacred dew distil.
White and entire, although congealed and chill ;
Congealed on earth; but does, dissolving, run
Into the glories of the almighty sun.
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116 THE P0E3JS
THE GARDEN.
(TRANSLATED. )
How vainly men themselves amaze,
To win the palm, the oak, or bajs,
And their incessant labours see
Crowned from some single herb, or tree,
Whose short and narrow-verged shade
Does prudently their toils upbraid,
While all the flowers, and trees, do close.
To weave the garlands of repose !
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here.
And Innocence, thy sister dear?
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men.
Your sacred plants, if here below,
Only among the plants will grow ;
Society is all but rude
To this delicious solitude.
Ko white nor red was ever seen
So amorous as this lovely green.
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Cfit'
OP MARVKLL. 117
Fond lovers, cruel as their Dame,
Cut in these trees their mistress' name :
Little, alas I they know or heed,
How far these beauties her exceed !
Fair trees 1 where'er your barks I wound,
No name shall but your own be found.
When we have run our passion's heat,
Love hither makes his best retreat.
The godsj who mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race ;
Apollo hunted Daphne so.
Only that she might laurel grow ;
And Pan did after Syrinx speed.
Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
'•^ What wond'rous life is this I lead !
Ripe apples drop about my head ;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine ;
The nectarine, and curious peach.
Into my hands themselves do reach ;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure k\so,
Withdraws into its happiness ;; —
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find ; —
Tet it creates, transcending these,
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118
THE POEMS
9
J
(Far other worlds, and other seas.
Annihilating all that's made
\ To a green thought in a green shade.
Here at the ^untain's sliding foot.
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root.
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide :
lliere, like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight.
Waves in its plumes the various light.
Such was that happy garden-state.
While man there walked without a mate
After a place so pure and sweet, :,
What other help could yet be meet ! ^'
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share
To wander solitary there :
fTwo paradises are in one,
(To live in paradise alone.
]
i
C'^^ ^
How well the skilful gardener drew
Of flowers, and herbs, this dial new.
Where, from above, the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac run,
tAnd, as it works, the industrious bee
iComputes its time as well as we !
How could such sweet and wholesome hour-%
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers ?
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OF MAR YELL. 119
ON THE
VICTORY OBTAINED BY BLAKE,
OVER THE SPANIARDS, IN THE BAY OF SANTA
CRUZ IN THE ISLAND OF TENERIFFE, 1657.
Now does Spain's fleet her spacious wings unfold,
Leaves the new world, and hastens for the old ;
But though the wind was fair, they slowly swum,.
Freighted with acted guilt, and guilt to come ;.
For this rich load, of which so proud they are,.
Was raised by tyranny, and raised for war.
Every capacious galleon's womb was filled
With what the womb of wealthy kingdoms yield ;.
The new world's wounded entrails they had^ tore.
For wealth wherewith to wound the old once
more.
Wealth which all other's avarice might cloy,
But yet in them caused as much fear, as joy.
For now upon the main themselves they saw
That boundless empire, where you give the law ;,
Of wind's and water's rage they feaiful be,
But much more fearful are your flags to see.
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120 THE POEHS
Day, that to those who sail upon the deep,
More wished for and more welcome is than sleep,
They dreaded to behold, lest the sun*s light.
With English streamers should salute their
sight :
In thickest darkness they would choose to steer.
So that such darkness might suppress their fear ;
At length it vanishes, and fortune smiles.
For they behold the sweet Canary isles.
One of which doubtless is by nature blessed
Above both worlds, since 'tis above the rest
For lest some gloominess might stain her sky,
Trees there the duty of the clouds supply :
O noble trust which heaven on this isle pours,
Fertile to be, yet never need her showers !
A happy people, which at once do gain
The benefits, without the ills, of rain !
Both health and profit fate cannot deny.
Where still the earth is moist, the air still dry 4
The jarring elements no discord know.
Fuel and rain together kindly grow ;
And coolness there with heat does never fight,
This only rules by day, and that by night.
Your worth to all these isles a jut-t right brings,
The best of lands should have the best of kings.
And these want nothing heaven can afford,
Unless it be, the having you their lord ;
But this great want will not a long one prove,
Your conquering sword will soon that want
remove ;
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OF MARVELL.
