Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His 10 state Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed, SONNET TO CYRIACK SKINNER (First printed in Phillips' Life of Milton, 1694. Written cir. 1655) 10 Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. Content, though blind, had I no better guide, Andrew Marvell 1621-1678 THE GARDEN (Written cir. 1650, published first in first collected edition of Marvell's Poems, 1681) How vainly men themselves amaze, Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, Your sacred plants, if here below, To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen How far these beauties her exceed! 25 When we have run our passion's heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. The gods, who mortal beauty chase, Still in a tree did end their race; Apollo hunted Daphne so, 30 Only that she might laurel grow; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed. What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; 35 The luscious clusters of a vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; 40 Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, The mind, that ocean where each kind Here at the fountain's sliding foot, 50 Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings, 55 And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plume the various light, Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate: 60 What other help could yet be meet! To live in paradise alone. 65 How well the skilful gardener drew How could such sweet and wholesome hours PART THIRD DRYDEN TO THOMSON Cir. 1660-Cir. 1730 John Dryden 1631-1700 MAC-FLECKNOE; OR, A SATIRE ON THE TRUE BLUE PROTESTANT POET, T. S. (1682) ALL human things are subject to decay, And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey. This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was called to empire, and had governed long; 5 In prose and verse was owned, without dispute, Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute. This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, And blest with issue of a large increase, Worn out with business, did at length debate 10 To settle the succession of the state; And, pondering which of all his sons was fit To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, Cried, ""Tis resolved! for Nature pleads, that he Should only rule, who most resembles me. 15 Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, Mature in dulness from his tender years; Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he, |