Minor Poems by Milton Part 2

VIII.

The shepherds on the lawn, 85 Or ere the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below: 90 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

IX.

When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet As never was by mortal finger strook, 95 Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air, such pleasure loth to lose, 99 With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

X.

Nature, that heard such sound Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, 105 And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.

XI.

At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, 110 That with long beams the shamefaced Night arrayed; The helmed cherubim And sworded seraphim Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn quire, 115 With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir.

XII.

Such music (as 'tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, While the Creator great 120 His constellations set, And the well-balanced World on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.

XIII.

Ring out, ye crystal spheres! 125 Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time; And let the ba.s.s of heaven's deep organ blow; 130 And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.

XIV.

For, if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold; 135 And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould; And h.e.l.l itself will pa.s.s away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 140

XV.

Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, 145 With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.

XVI.

But wisest Fate says No, This must not yet be so; 150 The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss, So both himself and us to glorify: Yet first, to those ychained in sleep, 155 The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.

XVII.

With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake: The aged Earth, aghast 160 With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake, When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.

XVIII.

And then at last our bliss 165 Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day The Old Dragon under ground, In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway, 170 And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.

XIX.

The Oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. 175 Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.

No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 180

XX.

The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding sh.o.r.e, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edged with poplar pale, 185 The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.

XXI.

In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, 190 The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, 195 While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.

XXII.

Peor and Baalim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered G.o.d of Palestine; And mooned Ashtaroth, 200 Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine: The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn; In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.

XXIII.

And sullen Moloch, fled, 205 Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue; 210 The brutish G.o.ds of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.

XXIV.

Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, 214 Trampling the unshowered gra.s.s with lowings loud; 215 Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest; Nought but profoundest h.e.l.l can be his shroud; In vain, with timbrelled anthems dark, The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. 220

XXV.

He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the G.o.ds beside Longer dare abide, 225 Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show his G.o.dhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the d.a.m.ned crew.

XXVI.

So, when the sun in bed, Curtained with cloudy red, 230 Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted fays 235 Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.

XXVII.

But see! the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest.

Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Heaven's youngest-teemed star 240 Hath fixed her polished car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable.