7

JOHANNES MILTON, Senex

_Scazons_

Since I believe in G.o.d the Father Almighty, Man's Maker and Judge, Overruler of Fortune, 'Twere strange should I praise anything and refuse Him praise, Should love the creature forgetting the Creator, Nor unto Him[v]in suff'ring and sorrow turn me: Nay how coud I withdraw me from[v]His embracing?

But since that I have seen not, and cannot know Him, Nor in my earthly temple apprehend rightly His wisdom and the heav'nly purpose eternal; Therefore will I be bound to no studied system Nor argument, nor with delusion enslave me, Nor seek to please Him in any foolish invention, Which my spirit within me, that loveth beauty And hateth evil, hath reprov'd as unworthy:

But I cherish my freedom in loving service, Gratefully adoring for delight beyond asking Or thinking, and in hours of anguish and darkness Confiding always on[v]His excellent greatness.

8

PYTHAGORAS

_Seasons_

Thou vainly, O Man, self-deceiver, exaltest Thyself the king and only thinker of this world, Where life aboundeth infinite to destroy thee.

Well-guided are thy forces and govern'd bravely, But like a tyrant cruel or savage monster Thou disregardest ignorantly all being Save only thine own insubordinate ruling:

As if the flower held not a happy pact with Spring; As if the brutes lack'd reason and sorrow's torment; Or ev'n divine love from the small atoms grew not, Their grave affection unto thy pa.s.sion mingling.

An truly were it n.o.bler and better wisdom To fear the blind thing blindly, lest it espy thee; And scrupulously do[v]honour to dumb creatures,

No one offending impiously, nor forcing To service of vile uses; ordering rather Thy slave to beauty, compelling lovingkindness.

So should desire, the only priestess of Nature Divinely inspir'd, like a good monarch rule thee, And lead thee onward in the consummate motion Of life eternal unto heav'nly perfection.

_Elegiacs_

9

AMIEL

Why, O Maker of all, madest thou man with affections Tender above thyself, scrupulous and pa.s.sionate?

Nay, if compa.s.sionate thou art, why, thou lover of men, Hidest thou thy face so pitilessly from us?

If thou in priesthoods and altar-glory delitest, In torment and tears of trouble and suffering, Then wert thou displeas'd looking on soft human emotion, Thou must scorn the devout love of a sire to a son.

'Twas but vainly of old, Man, making Faith to approach thee, Held an imagin'd scheme of providence in honour; And, to redeem thy praise, judg'd himself cause, took upon him Humbly the impossible burden of all misery.

Now casteth he away his books and logical idols Leaveth again his cell of terrified penitence; And that stony G.o.ddess, his first-born fancy, dethroning, Hath made after his own homelier art another; Made sweet Hope, the modest unportion'd daughter of anguish, Whose br.i.m.m.i.n.g eye sees but dimly what it looketh on; Dreaming a day when fully, without curse or horrible cross, Thou wilt deign to reveal her vision of happiness.

10

Ah, what a change! Thou, who didst emptily thy happiness seek In pleasure, art finding thy pleasure in happiness.

Slave to the soul, whom thou heldest in slavery, art thou?

Thou, that wert but a vain idol, adored a G.o.ddess?

11

WALKING HOME

FROM THE CHINESE

Thousand threads of rain and fine white wreathing of air-mist Hide from us earth's greenness, hide the enarching azure.

Yet will a breath of Spring homeward convoying attend us, And the mellow flutings of pa.s.sionate Philomel.

12

THE RUIN

FROM THE CHINESE

These grey stones have rung with mirth and lordly carousel; Here proud kings mingled poetry and ruddy wine.

All hath pa.s.s'd long ago; nought but this ruin abideth, Sadly in eyeless trance gazing upon the river.

Wouldst thou know who here visiteth, dwelleth and singeth also, Ask the swallows fl[=y]ing from sunny-wall'd Italy.

13

REVENANTS

FROM THE FRENCH

At dead of unseen night ghosts of the departed a.s.sembling Flit to the graves, where each in body had burial.

Ah, then revisiting my sad heart their desolate tomb Troop the desires and loves vainly buried long ago.

14

FROM THE GREEK

Mortal though I be, yea ephemeral, if but a moment I gaze up to the night's starry domain of heaven, Then no longer on earth I stand; I touch the Creator, And my lively spirit drinketh immortality.

15

ANNIVERSARY

See, Love, a year is pa.s.s'd: in harvest our summer endeth: Praising thee the solemn festival I celebrate.