LYCIDAS.

In this Monody, the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637; and by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.

YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,

I come 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
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhime.
He must not float upon his watery bier

2 myrtles brown] Hor. Od. i. 25. 17. myrto.' Warton.

10

Pulla magis atque

8 dead] 'Phillisides is dead.' Past. Egl. on Sir P. Sidney's death, by L. B. v. 8 (Todd's Spenser, viii. 76), and v. 71.

'Sweet bowres of myrtel twigs, and lawrel faire.'

10 Who] Neget quis carmina Gallo.' Virg. Ecl. x. 3.

Peck.

12 watery] See Theod. Prodrom. Dos. et Rhod. Am. p. 254, ed. Gaulm.

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.

Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring,
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
So may some gentle Muse

With lucky words favour my destin'd urn,
And as he passes turn,

15

20

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
For we were nurs'd 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 eyelids 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,

14 melodious] Cleveland's Obsequy on Mr. King, 'I like not tears in tune.'

17 sweep]

Purg. i. 9.

Todd.

E qui Calliopea alquanto surga,' Dante

19 Muse] Gentle Muse-he passes." See Jortin's Tracts,

23 nurs'd] Compare Past. Ægl. on Sir P. Sidney's death, by L. B. ver. 85.

Through many a hill and dale, &c.'

26 opening] Middleton's Game at Chess.

Like a pearl,

Dropp'd from the opening eyelids of the morn.'

And Crashaw's Translation of Marino, The lids of day.'

29 Batt'ning] Drayton's Ecl. ix.

Warton, Todd.

"Their battening flocks on grassie leas to hold.' Warton.

30

Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, Toward heav'n's descent had slop'd his west'ring Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, [wheel. Temper'd to th' oaten flute,

Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damoœtas lov'd to hear our song.

36

But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone, and never must return!
Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,
And all their echoes mourn.

The willows, and the hazel copses green,
Shall now no more be seen,

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
As killing as the canker to the rose,

41

45

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,
Or frost to flow'rs, that their gay wardrobe wear,
When first the white-thorn blows;

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. [deep
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless
Clos'd o'er the head of your lov❜d Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep,

51

83 Temper'd] On this word see P. Fletcher's Purple Isl.

c. ix. st. 3. Par. Lost, vii. 598. Warton.

37 thou art gone] Browne's Sheph. Pipe (ecl. 4). But he is gone.

50 Where] Spenser's Astrophel, st. 22,

Ah, where were ye the while his shepheard peares, &c.

Warton.

Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: Ay me! I fondly dream!

60

Had ye been there, for what could that have done?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
The Muse herself for her inchanting son,
Whom universal nature did lament,
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 incessant care
To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, 65
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done 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 (That last infirmity of noble mind)

71

55 wisard] on the wisard stream of Deva, consult Warton's

note.

63 swift] Vir. Æn. 1. 321.

'Volucremque fuga prævertitur Hebrum.' Warton.

69 tangles] Benlowes's Theophila, p. 2.

Entangled thoughts in the trammels of their ambush hair.' Greene's never too late, 'Entangle men in their tresses.' p. 58. Shirley's Doubtful Heir. p. 36. G. Peele's Works, ed. Dyce, 1829, i. p. 17. ii. p. 11..

70 Fame]"Quasi hic subesset ingens Cupido gloriæ quæ etiam sapientibus novissima exuitur." Strada Prelu. p. 161. ed. Ox.

7.1

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 th' abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise,
Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears;
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glist'ring foil

Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies; 80
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfect witness 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, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my oat proceeds,

And listens to the herald of the sea

74 blaze] So P. Reg. iii. 47.

For what is glory but the blaze of fame.' Warton. 75 blind] Spenser's R. of Rome. st. xxiv. If the blind Furie which warres breedeth oft.' Warton.

77 touched] Virg. Ecl. vi. 3.

-Cynthius aurem

Vellit, et admonuit.

Peck.

79 foil] See Shakes. Henry IV. act. i. s. 2. Warton.

85 fountain] Hom. Od. xiii. 408. Kρývη'Apɛlovơn. Virg, Ecl. x. 4. n. iii. 694.

Warton.

67 higher] 'I'll tune my reed unto a higher key.' Browne's Brit. Past. iv. 41.