LYCIDAS.

I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude,

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

Line 3.

He knew

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair.

Line 68.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise1 (That last infirmity of noble mind)

To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life.
Line 70.

1 Erant quibus appetentior famæ videretur, quando etiam sapientibus cupido gloriæ novissima exuitur. Tacitus, Histor. iv. 6.

[Lycidas continued.

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark,

Line 78.

Built in the eclipse and rigg'd with curses dark.

Line 100.

The pilot of the Galilean lake.

Line 109.

Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd wood-bine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

Line 139.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

Line 168.

To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.

Line 193.

ARCADES.

Under the shady roof

Of branching elm star-proof.

Line 88.

L' ALLEGRO.

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles.

Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go,

Line 25.

On the light fantastic toe.

Line 31.

And every shepherd tells his tale

Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Line 67.

Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighboring eyes.

Line 75.

Herbs, and other country messes,

Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade.

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale.

Tower'd cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men.

Line 85.

Line 95.

Line 100.

Line 117.

[L' Allegro continued.

Ladies, whose bright eyes

Rain influence, and judge the prize.

Such sights as youthful poets dream
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson's learned sock be on,

Line 121.

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.

And ever, against eating cares
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,

Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout

Line 129.

Of linked sweetness long drawn out. Line 135.

Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden soul of harmony.

Line 143.

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.

Line 45.

And add to these retired Leisure,

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

Line 49.

Il Penseroso continued.]

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,

Most musical, most melancholy!

To behold the wandering moon,
Riding near her highest noon,

Line 61.

Like one that had been led astray
Through the heaven's wide pathless way;
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine.

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing

Line 97.

Such notes as, warbled to the string,

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. Line 105.