Il Penseroso

Hence vain deluding joyes
The brood of folly without father bred
How little you bested
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes;
Dwell in som idle brain
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams
Or likest hovering dreams
The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train
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
Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnons sister might beseem
Or that Starr'd Ethiope Queen that strove
To set her beauties praise above
The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended
Yet thou art higher far descended
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore
To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she (in Saturns raign
Such mixture was not held a stain)
Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove
While yet there was no fear of Jove
Com pensive Nun, devout and pure
Sober, stedfast, and demure
All in a robe of darkest grain
Flowing with majestick train
And sable stole of Cipres Lawn
Over thy decent shoulders drawn
Com, but keep thy wonted state
With eev'n step, and musing gate
And looks commercing with the skies
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:
There held in holy passion still
Forget thy self to Marble, till
With a sad Leaden downward cast
Thou fix them on the earth as fast
And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet
And hears the Muses in a ring
Ay round about Joves Altar sing
And adde to these retired Leasure
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 daign a Song
In her sweetest, saddest plight
Smoothing the rugged brow of night
While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke
Gently o're th'accustom'd Oke;
Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly
Most musical!, most melancholy!
Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among
I woo to hear thy eeven-Song;
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven Green
To behold the wandring Moon
Riding neer her highest noon
Like one that had bin led astray
Through the Heav'ns wide pathles 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 som wide-water'd shoar
Swinging slow with sullen roar;
Or if the Ayr will not permit
Som 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 Belmans drowsie charm
To bless the dores from nightly harm:
Or let my Lamp at midnight hour
Be seen in som high lonely Towr
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear
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 Daemons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground
Whose power hath a true consent
With planet or with Element
Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy
In Scepter'd Pall com sweeping by
Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line
Or the tale of Troy divine
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the Buskind stage
But, O sad Virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musaeus 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 vertuous Ring and Glass
And of the wondrous Hors of Brass
On which the Tartar King did ride;
And if ought els, great Bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung
Of Turneys and of Trophies hung;
Of Forests, and inchantments drear
Where more is meant then meets the ear
Thus night oft see me in thy pale career
Till civil-suited Morn appeer
Not trickt and frounc't as she was won't
With the Attick Boy to hunt
But Cherchef't in a comly 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 Goddes bring
To arched walks of twilight groves
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves
Of Pine, or monumental Oake
Where the rude Ax with heaved stroke
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt
There in close covert by som Brook
Where no profaner eye may look
Hide me from Day's garish eie
While the Bee with Honied thie
That at her flowry work doth sing
And the Waters murmuring
With such consort as they keep
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
And let som strange mysterious dream
Wave at his Wings in Airy stream
Of lively portrature display'd
Softly on my eye-lids laid
And as I wake, sweet musick breath
Above, about, or underneath
Sent by som 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 antick Pillars massy proof
And storied Windows richly dight
Casting a dimm religious light
There let the pealing Organ blow
To the full voic'd Quire below
In Service high, and Anthems cleer
As may with sweetnes, through mine ear
Dissolve me into extasies
And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peacefull 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 somthing like prophetic strain
These pleasures Melancholy give
And I with thee will choose to live