Poems 2, Poem 13
L'Allegro.
HEnce loathed Melancholy
Of Cerberus, and blackeſt midnight born,
In Stygian Cave forlorn
'Mongſt horrid ſhapes, and ſhreiks, and ſights unholy,
Find out ſom uncouth cell,
Wher brooding darknes ſpreads his jealous wings,
And the night-Raven ſings;
There under Ebon ſhades, and low-brow'd Rocks,
As ragged as thy Locks,
In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
But com thou Goddes fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphroſyne,
And by men, heart-eaſing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two ſiſter Graces more
To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as ſom Sager ſing)
The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring,
Zephir with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on Beds of Violets blew▪
And freſh-blown Roſes waſht in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair.
So buckſom, blith, and debonair.
Haſte thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jeſt and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods, and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple ſleek;
Sport that wrincled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his ſides▪
Com, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantaſtick toe▪
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The Mountain Nymph, ſweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honour due▪
Mirth, admit me of thy crue
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleaſures free;
To hear the Lark begin his flight,
And ſinging ſtartle the dull night,
From his watch-towre in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth riſe;
Then to com in ſpight of ſorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine,
Or the twiſted Eglantine.
While the Cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darknes thin,
And to the ſtack, or the Barn dore,
Stoutly ſtruts his Dames before,
Oft liſt'ning how the Hounds and horn,
Chearly rouſe the ſlumbring morn,
From the ſide of ſom Hoar Hill,
Through the high wood echoing ſhrill.
Som time walking not unſeen
By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green,
Right againſt the Eaſtern gate,
Wher the great Sun begins his ſtate,
Rob'd in flames, and Amber light,
The clouds in thouſand Liveries dight▪
While the Plowman neer at hand,
Whiſtles ore the Furrow'd Land,
And the Milkmaid ſingeth blithe,
And the Mower whets his ſithe,
And every Shepherd tells his tale
Under the Hawthorn in the dale.
Streit mine eye hath caught new pleaſures
Whilſt the Lantskip round it meaſures,
Ruſſet Lawns, and Fallows Gray,
Where the nibling flocks do ſtray,
Mountains on whoſe barren breſt
The labouring clouds do often reſt:
Meadows trim with Daiſie… pide,
Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.
Towers, and Battlements it ſees
Booſom'd high in tufted Trees,
Wher perhaps ſom beauty lies,
The Cynoſure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a Cottage chimney ſmokes,
From betwixt two aged Okes,
Where Corydon and Thyrſis met,
Are at their ſavory dinner ſet
Of Hearbs, and other Country Meſſes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreſſes;
And then in haſte her Bowre ſhe leaves,
With Theſtylis to bind the Sheaves;
Or if the earlier ſeaſon lead
To the tann'd Haycock in the Mead,
Som times with ſecure delight
The up-land Hamlets will invite,
When the merry Bells ring round▪
And the jocond rebecks ſound
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the Chequer'd ſhade;
And young and old com forth to play
On a Sunſhine Holyday,
Till the live-long day-light fail,
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale,
With ſtories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat,
She was pincht, and pull'd ſhe ſed,
And he by Friars Lanthorn led
Tells how the drudging Goblin ſwet,
To ern his Cream-bowle duly ſet,
When in one night, ere glimps of morn,
His ſhadowy Flale hath threſh'd the Corn
That ten day labourers could not end,
Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend.
And ſtretch'd out all the Chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy ſtrength;
And Crop-full out of dores he flings,
Ere the firſt Cock his Mattin rings.
Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whiſpering Windes ſoon lull'd aſleep.
Towred Cities pleaſe us then,
And the buſie humm of men,
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold,
With ſtore of Ladies, whoſe bright eies
Rain influence, and judge the priſe
Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
To win her Grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,
And pomp, and feaſt, and revelry,
With mask, and antique Pageantry,
Such ſights as youthfull Poets dream
On Summer eeves by haunted ſtream.
Then to the well-trod ſtage anon,
If Jonſons learned Sock be on,
Or ſweeteſt Shakeſpear fancies childe,
Warble his native Wood-notes wilde,
And ever againſt eating Cares,
Lap me in ſoft Lydian Aires,
Married to immortal verſe
Such as the meeting ſoul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of lincked ſweetnes long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning▪
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwiſting all the chains that ty
The hidden ſoul of harmony.
That Orpheus ſelf may heave his head
From golden ſlumber on a bed
Of heapt Elyſian flowres, and hear
Such ſtreins as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite ſet free
His half regain'd Eurydice.
Theſe delights, if thou canſt give,
Mirth with thee, I mean to live.