The Complete Poetry of John Milton (35 page)

Read The Complete Poetry of John Milton Online

Authors: John Milton

Tags: #English; Irish; Scottish; Welsh, #Poetry, #European

795

   795     
To such a flame of sacred vehemence,

               
That dumb things would be mov’d to sympathize,

               
And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,

               
Till all thy magick structures rear’d so high,

               
Were shatter’d into heaps o’re thy false head.

800

   800  
      
       
Comus.
She fables not, I feel that I do fear

               
Her words set off by som superior power;

               
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew

               
Dips me all o’re, as when the wrath of
Jove

               
Speaks thunder, and the chains of
Erebus
82

805

   805     
To som of
Saturns
crew. I must dissemble,

               
And try her yet more strongly. Com, no more,

               
This is meer moral babble, and direct

               
Against the canon laws of our foundation;

               
I must not suffer this, yet ‘tis but the lees

810

   810     
And setlings of a melancholy blood;

               
But this will cure all streight, one sip of this

               
Will bath the drooping spirits in delight

               
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise and tast.

The brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest his Glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The attendant Spirit comes in.

           
      
       
Spirit.
What, have you let the false enchanter scape?

815

   815     
O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand

               
And bound him fast; without his rod revers’t

               
And backward mutters of dissevering power,

               
We cannot free the Lady that sits heer

               
In stony fetters fixt and motionless;

820

   820     
Yet stay, be not disturb’d, now I bethink me,

               
Som other means I have which may be us’d,

               
Which once of
Melibæus
83
old I learnt

               
The soothest shepherd that e’re pip’t on plains.

           
      
       There is a gentle Nymph not farr from hence

825

   825     
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,

               
Sabrina
is her name, a virgin pure;

               
Whilom she was the daughter of
Locrine
,

               
That had the scepter from his father
Brute
,

               
She guiltless damsell, flying the mad pursuit

830

   830     
Of her enraged stepdam
Guendolen
,

               
Commended her fair innocence to the flood

               
That stay’d her flight with his cross-flowing course.
84

               
The water nymphs that in the bottom plaid

               
Held up thir pearled wrists and took her in,

835

   835     
Bearing her strait to aged
Nereus
85
hall,

               
Who piteous of her woes, rear’d her lank head,

               
And gave her to his daughters to imbath

               
In nectar’d lavers strew’d with Asphodil,
86

               
And through the porch and inlet of each sense

840

   840     
Dropt in Ambrosial oils till she reviv’d

               
And underwent a quick immortal change,

               
Made goddess of the river; still she retains

               
Her maid’n gentlenes, and oft at eeve

               
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,

845

   845     
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signs

               
That the shrewd medling elf delights to make,

               
Which she with pretious viold liquors heals.

               
For which the shepherds at thir festivals

               
Carrol her goodnes loud in rustick layes,

850

   850     
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream

               
Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy daffadils.

               
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock

               
The clasping charm, and thaw the numming spell,

               
If she be right invok’t in warbled song,

855

   855     
For maid’nhood she loves, and will be swift

               
To aid a virgin, such as was her self

               
In hard besetting need; this will I try

               
And add the power of som adjuring verse.

SONG

           
      
       
Sabrina fair

860

   860
     
                
Listen where thou art sitting

           
      
       
Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave
,

    
                     
In twisted braids of Lillies knitting

           
      
       
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair
,

    
                     
Listen for dear honours sake
,

865

   865
     
                
Goddess of the silver lake
,

     
                                   
Listen and save.

               
Listen and appear to us

               
In name of great
Oceanus
,
87

               
By th’ earth-shaking
Neptunes
mace,

870

   870     
And
Tethys grave
majestick pace,

               
By hoary
Nereus
wrincled look,

               
And the
Carpathian
wizards hook,

               
By scaly
Tritons
winding shell,

               
And old sooth-saying
Glaucus
spell,

875

   875     
By
Leucothea
’s lovely hands,

               
And her son that rules the strands,

               
By
Thetis
tinsel-slipper’d feet,

               
And the songs of
Sirens
sweet,

               
By dead
Parthenope
’s dear tomb,

880

   880     
And fair
Ligéa
’s golden comb,

               
Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks

               
Sleeking her soft alluring locks,

               
By all the
Nymphs
that nightly dance

               
Upon the streams with wily glance,

885

   885     
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head

               
From thy coral-pav’n bed,

               
And bridle in thy headlong wave,

               
Till thou our summons answer’d have.

     
                                   
Listen and save.

Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings.

890

   890  
      
       
By the rushy-fringed bank
,

    
                     
Where grows the willow and the osier dank
,

           
      
       
My sliding chariot stayes
,

           
      
       
Thick set with agat, and the azurn sheen

    
                     
Of turkis
88
blew, and emrauld green

895

   895         
             
                      
That in the channell strayes
,

    
                     
Whilst from off the waters fleet

    
                     
Thus I set my printless feet

     
                                   
O’re the Cowslips Velvet head

     
                                   
That bends not as I tread.

900

   900     
Gentle swain at thy request

               
I am heer.

           
      
       
Spirit.
Goddess dear

               
We implore thy powerful hand

               
To undoe the charmed band

905

   905     
Of true virgin heer distrest,

               
Through the force, and through the wile

               
Of unblest inchanter vile.

           
      
       
Sabrina.
Shepherd ‘tis my office best

               
To help insnared chastity;

910

   910     
Brightest Lady look on me,

               
Thus I sprinkle on thy brest

               
Drops that from my fountain pure,

               
I have kept of pretious cure,

               
Thrice upon thy fingers tip,

915

   915     
Thrice upon thy rubied lip;

               
Next this marble venom’d seat

               
Smear’d with gumms of glutenous heat

               
I touch with chast palms moist and cold,

               
Now the spell hath lost his hold;

920

   920     
And I must hast ere morning howr

               
To wait in
Amphitrite
’s
89
bowr.

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

           
      
       
Spirit.
Virgin, daughter of
Locrine

               
Sprung of old
Anchises
line,

               
May thy brimmed waves for this

925

   925     
Thir full tribute never miss

               
From a thousand petty rills

               
That tumble down the snowy hills:

               
Summer drouth, or singed air

               
Never scorch thy tresses fair,

930

   930     
Nor wet
Octobers
torrent flood

               
Thy molten crystal fill with mudd;

               
May thy billows rowl ashoar

               
The beryl and the golden ore,

               
May thy lofty head be crown’d

935

   935     
With many a towr and terrace round,
90

               
And heer and there thy banks upon

               
With groves of myrrhe, and cinnamon.

               
Com Lady while Heav’n lends us grace,

               
Let us fly this cursed place,

940

   940     
Lest the sorcerer us intice

               
With som other new device.

               
Not a wast or needless sound

               
Till we com to holier ground,

               
I shall be your faithfull guide

945

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