Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

by Homer

  Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill

  Waterd the Garden; thence united fell 230

  Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood,

  Which from his darksom passage now appeers,

  And now divided into four main Streams,

  Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme

  And Country whereof here needs no account, 235

  But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,

  How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks,

  Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold,

  With mazie error under pendant shades

  Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed 240

  Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art

  In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon

  Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine,

  Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote

  The open field, and where the unpierc’t shade 245

  Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place,

  A happy rural seat of various view;

  Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme,

  Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde

  Hung amiable, Hesperian Fables true, 250

  If true, here only, and of delicious taste:

  Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks

  Grasing the tender herb, were interpos’d,

  Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap

  Of som irriguous Valley spred her store, 255

  Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose:

  Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves

  Of coole recess, o’re which the mantling vine

  Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps

  Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall 260

  Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake,

  That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd,

  Her chrystal mirror holds, unite thir streams.

  The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires,

  Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 265

  The trembling leaves, while Universal Pan

  Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance

  Led on th’ Eternal Spring. Not that faire field

  Of Enna, where Proserpin gathering flours

  Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie Dis 270

  Was gatherd, which cost Ceres all that pain

  To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove

  Of Daphne by Orontes, and th’ inspir’d

  Castalian Spring, might with this Paradise

  Of Eden strive; nor that Nyseian Ile 275

  Girt with the River Triton, where old Cham,

  Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Lybian Jove,

  Hid Amalthea and her Florid Son

  Young Bacchus from his Stepdame Rhea’s eye;

  Nor where Abassin Kings thir issue Guard, 280

  Mount Amara, though this by som suppos’d

  True Paradise under the Ethiop Line

  By Nilus head, enclosd with shining Rock,

  A whole days journy high, but wide remote

  From this Assyrian Garden, where the Fiend 285

  Saw undelighted all delight, all kind

  Of living Creatures new to sight and strange:

  Two of far nobler shape erect and tall,

  Godlike erect, with native Honour clad

  In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, 290

  And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine

  The image of thir glorious Maker shon,

  Truth, wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure,

  Severe but in true filial freedom plac’t;

  Whence true autority in men; though both 295

  Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd;

  For contemplation hee and valour formd,

  For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace,

  Hee for God only, shee for God in him:

  His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar’d 300

  Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks

  Round from his parted forelock manly hung

  Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:

  Shee as a vail down to the slender waste

  Her unadorned golden tresses wore 305

  Disheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav’d

  As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli’d

  Subjection, but requir’d with gentle sway,

  And by her yielded, by him best receivd,

  Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, 310

  And sweet reluctant amorous delay.

  Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald,

  Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame

  Of natures works, honor dishonorable,

  Sin-bred, how have ye troubl’d all mankind 315

  With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure,

  And banisht from mans life his happiest life,

  Simplicitie and spotless innocence.

  So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight

  Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: 320

  So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair

  That ever since in loves imbraces met,

  Adam the goodliest man of men since borne

  His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters Eve.

  Under a tuft of shade that on a green 325

  Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side

  They sat them down, and after no more toil

  Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic’d

  To recommend coole Zephyr, and made ease

  More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite 330

  More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell,

  Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes

  Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline

  On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours:

  The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde 335

  Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream;

  Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles

  Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems

  Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League,

  Alone as they. About them frisking playd 340

  All Beasts of th’ Earth, since wilde, and of all chase

  In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den;

  Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw

  Dandl’d the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards

  Gambold before them, th’ unwieldy Elephant 345

  To make them mirth us’d all his might, and wreathd

  His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly

  Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine

  His breaded train, and of his fatal guile

  Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass 350

  Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat,

  Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun

  Declin’d was hasting now with prone carreer

  To th’ Ocean Iles, and in th’ ascending Scale

  Of Heav’n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: 355

  When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood,

  Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad.

  O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold,

  Into our room of bliss thus high advanc’t

  Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, 360

  Not Spirits, yet to heav’nly Spirits bright

  Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue

  With wonder, and could love, so lively shines

  In them Divine resemblance, and such grace

  The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. 365

  Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh

  Your change approaches, when all these delights

  Will vanish and deliver ye to woe,

  More woe, the more your taste is now of joy;

  Happie, but for so happie ill secur’d 370

>   Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav’n

  Ill fenc’t for Heav’n to keep out such a foe

  As now is enterd; yet no purpos’d foe

  To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne

  Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, 375

  And mutual amitie so streight, so close,

  That I with you must dwell, or you with me

  Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please

  Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such

  Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, 380

  Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfold,

  To entertain you two, her widest Gates,

  And send forth all her Kings; there will be room,

  Not like these narrow limits, to receive

  Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, 385

  Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge

  On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd.

  And should I at your harmless innocence

  Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just,

  Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg’d, 390

  By conquering this new World, compels me now

  To do what else though damnd I should abhorre.

  So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie,

  The Tyrants plea, excus’d his devilish deeds.

  Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree 395

  Down he alights among the sportful Herd

  Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one,

  Now other, as thir shape servd best his end

  Neerer to view his prey, and unespi’d

  To mark what of thir state he more might learn 400

  By word or action markt: about them round

  A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare,

  Then as a Tyger, who by chance hath spi’d

  In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play,

  Strait couches close, then rising changes oft 405

  His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground

  Whence rushing he might surest seize them both

  Gript in each paw: when Adam first of men

  To first of women Eve thus moving speech,

  Turnd him all eare to hear new utterance flow. 410

  Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes,

  Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power

  That made us, and for us this ample World

  Be infinitly good, and of his good

  As liberal and free as infinite, 415

  That rais’d us from the dust and plac’t us here

  In all this happiness, who at his hand

  Have nothing merited, nor can performe

  Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires

  From us no other service then to keep 420

  This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees

  In Paradise that bear delicious fruit

  So various, not to taste that onely Tree

  Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life,

  So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, 425

  Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst

  God hath pronounc’t it death to taste that Tree,

  The only sign of our obedience left

  Among so many signes of power and rule

  Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv’n 430

  Over all other Creatures that possess

  Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard

  One easie prohibition, who enjoy

  Free leave so large to all things else, and choice

  Unlimited of manifold delights: 435

  But let us ever praise him, and extoll

  His bountie, following our delightful task

  To prune these growing Plants, and tend these Flours,

  Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Lycidas

  John Milton (1608-1674)

  In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunatly drown’d in his Passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637. And by occasion fortels the ruine of our corrupted Clergy then in their height.

  Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more

  Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,

  I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,

  And with forc’d fingers rude,

  Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5

  Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,

  Compels me to disturb your season due:

  For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,

  Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:

  Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 10

  Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

  He must not flote upon his watry bear

  Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,

  Without the meed of som melodious tear.

  Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 15

  That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring,

  Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string.

  Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,

  So may som gentle Muse

  With lucky words favour my destin’d Urn, 20

  And as he passes turn,

  And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd.

  For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,

  Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.

  Together both, ere the high Lawns appear’d 25

  Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,

  We drove a field, and both together heard

  What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,

  Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,

  Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev’ning, bright 30

  Toward Heav’ns descent had slop’d his westering wheel.

  Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,

  Temper’d to th’ Oaten Flute,

  Rough Satyrs danc’d, and Fauns with clov’n heel,

  From the glad sound would not be absent long, 35

  And old Damœtas lov’d to hear our song.

  But O the heavy change, now thou art gon,

  Now thou art gon, and never must return!

  Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves,

  With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o’regrown, 40

  And all their echoes mourn.

  The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,

  Shall now no more be seen,

  Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes.

  As killing as the Canker to the Rose, 45

  Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze,

  Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,

  When first the White thorn blows;

  Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear.

  Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep 50

  Clos’d o’re the head of your lov’d Lycidas?

  For neither were ye playing on the steep,

  Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly,

  Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,

  Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: 55

  Ay me, I fondly dream!

  Had ye bin there — for what could that have don?

  What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore,

  The Muse her self, for her inchanting son

  Whom Universal nature did lament, 60

  When by the rout that made the hideous roar,

  His goary visage down the stream was sent,

  Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore.

  Alas! What boots it with uncessant care

  To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade, 65

  And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,

  Were it not better don as others use,

  To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,

  Or with the tangles of Neæra’s hair? />
  Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 70

  (That last infirmity of Noble mind)

  To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes;

  But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,

  And think to burst out into sudden blaze,

  Comes the blind Fury with th’ abhorred shears, 75

  And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,

  Phœbus repli’d, and touch’d my trembling ears;

  Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

  Nor in the glistering foil

  Set off to th’ world, nor in broad rumour lies, 80

  But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,

  And perfet witnes of all judging Jove;

  As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

  Of so much fame in Heav’n expect thy meed.

  O Fountain Arethuse, and thou honour’d flood, 85

  Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown’d with vocall reeds,

  That strain I heard was of a higher mood:

  But now my Oate proceeds,

  And listens to the Herald of the Sea

  That came in Neptune’s plea, 90

  He ask’d the Waves, and ask’d the Fellon winds,

  What hard mishap hath doom’d this gentle swain?

  And question’d every gust of rugged wings

  That blows from off each beaked Promontory,

  They knew not of his story, 95

  And sage Hippotades their answer brings,

  That not a blast was from his dungeon stray’d,

  The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine,

  Sleek Panope with all her sisters play’d.

  It was that fatall and perfidious Bark 100

  Built in th’ eclipse, and rigg’d with curses dark,

  That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

  Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow,

  His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,

  Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105

  Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe.

  Ah! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?

  Last came, and last did go,

  The Pilot of the Galilean lake,

  Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain, 110

  (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)

  He shook his Miter’d locks, and stern bespake,

  How well could I have spar’d for thee young swain,

  Anow of such as for their bellies sake,

  Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115

  Of other care they little reck’ning make,

  Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,

  And shove away the worthy bidden guest.

  Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold