But hail, thou Goddess, sage and holy!
Hail, divinest Melancholy!

Whose saintly visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight,

And therefore to our weaker view

O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue;
Black, but such as in esteem

Prince Memnon's sister might beseem;
1 Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove
To set her beauties praise above`

The Sea-Nymphs, and their pow'rs offended;
Yet thou art higher far descended:
Thee bright-hair'd Vestá long of yore
To Solitary Saturn bore;

His daughter she (in Saturn's reign,
Such mixture was not held a stain),
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And sable stole of Cyprus lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn;
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and musing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:
There held in holy passion still,
Forget thyself to marble; till
With a sad leaden downward cast
Thou hx them on the earth as fast!

And join with the calm Peace and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring

Ay round about Jove's altar sing:
And add to these retired Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure;
But first and chiefest with thee bring
Him that yon soars on golden wing,

Guiding the fiery - wheeled throne,
The cherub Contemplation;

And the mute Silence hist along,
'Less Philomel will deign a song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er th'accustom'd oak;

Sweet bird, that shunn'st, the noise of folly,

Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee chauntress oft the woods among

I woo to hear thy even-song,
And, missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,

Like one that had been led astray
Through the Heav'n's wide pathless way,

And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off curfeu sound,
Over some wide-water'd shore,
Swinging slow with sullen roar;
Or if the air will not permit,
Some still removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room.
Teach Light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all resort of mirth,

Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the belman's drowsy charm,
To bless the doors from nightly harm:
Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be seen in some high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out - watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere
The spirit of Plato to unfold

What worlds or what vast regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook:
And of those demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,

Whose power hath a true consent With planet, or with element. Sometime let Gorgeous Tragedy In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes' or Pelops' line, Or else the tale of Troy divine, Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Museus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes, as warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek. Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That ́own'd the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass, On which the Tartar king did ride; And if ought else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear. Thus Night oft see me in thy pale career, Till civil-suited Morn appear,

Not trickt and frounc'd as she was wont,
With the Attic boy to hunt,

But kercheft in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Or usher'd with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the russling leaves,
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,

Where the rude axe with heaved stroke

Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in close covert by some brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from Day's garish eye,
While the bee with honied thie,
That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring.
With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy - feather'd sleep;
And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at his wings in airy stream
Of lively portraiture display'd,
Softly on my eyelids laid,

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,

Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,
Or th' unseen Genius of the wood,
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloysters pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antic pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light,
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voic'd quire below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,

And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that Heav'n doth shew,
And every herb that sips the dew;
Till old Experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.

3) DESCRIPTION

OF ADAM AND

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,

EVE *).

Godlike erect! with native honour clad
In naked majesty seem'd lords of all,
And worthy seem'd; for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,
(Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd,)
Whence true authority in men: though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seem'd;
For contemplation he and valour form'd,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for Gad in him.
His fair large front and eye sublime, declar'd
Absolute rule; and hyacinthin lacks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung,
Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
She as a veil down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Disshevel'd, but in wanton ringlets way'd,
As the vine curls her tendrils, which imply'd
Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd:
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet reluctant amorous delay.

Nor those mysterious parts were then conceal'd,
Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame
Of nature's works; honour dishonourable!
Sin-bred! bow have ye troubled all mankind
With shows instead, mere shows, of seeming pure,
And banish'd from man's life his happiest life,
Simplicity and spotless innocence!

So pass'd they naked on, nor shun'd the sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill.
So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair
That ever since in love's embraces met;
Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.

Paradise lost, Book IV.