John Milton - On the d**h of a Fair Infant Dying of a Cough lyrics

O FAIREST flower no sooner blown but blasted Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie Summers chief honour if thou hadst outlasted Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie; For he being amorous on that lovely die That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss But k**'d alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss For since grim Aquilo his charioter By boistrous rape th' Athenian damsel got He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer If likewise he some fair one wedded not Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr Through middle empire of the freezing aire He wanderd long, till thee he spy'd from farr There ended was his quest, there ceast his care Down he descended from his Snow-soft chaire But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair hiding place Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate; For so Apollo, with unweeting hand Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' strand Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land; But then transform'd him to a purple flower Alack that so to change thee winter had no power Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed Hid from the world in a low delved tombe; Could Heav'n for pittie thee so strictly doom? O no! for something in thy face did shine Above mortalitie that shew'd thou wast divine Resolve me then oh Soul most surely blest (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear) Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hoverest Whether above that high first-moving Spheare Or in the Elisian fields (if such there were.) Oh say me true if thou wert mortal wight And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight Wert thou some Starr which from the ruin'd roofe Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall; Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? Or did of late earths Sonnes besiege the wall Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou some goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head Or wert thou that just Maid who once before Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth And cam'st again to visit us once more? Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth! Or that c[r]own'd Matron sage white-robed Truth? Or any other of that heav'nly brood Let down in clowdie throne to do the world some good Note: 53 Or wert thou] Or wert thou Mercy—conjectured by John Heskin Ch. Ch. Oxon. from Ode on Nativity, st. 15 Or wert thou of the golden-winged boast Who having clad thy self in humane weed To earth from thy praefixed seat didst poast And after short abode flie back with speed As if to shew what creatures Heav'n doth breed Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire But oh why didst thou not stay here below To bless us with thy heav'n-lov'd innocence To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe To turn Swift-rushing black perdition hence Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart But thou canst best perform that office where thou art Then thou the mother of so sweet a child Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; Think what a present thou to God hast sent And render him with patience what he lent; This if thou do he will an off-spring give That till the worlds last-end shall make thy name to live Ll HAIL native Language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps Half unpronounc't, slide through my infant-lipps Driving dum silence from the portal dore Where he had mutely sate two years before: Here I salute thee and thy pardon ask That now I use thee in my latter task: Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee I know my tongue but little Grace can do thee: Thou needst not be ambitious to be first Believe me I have thither packt the worst: And, if it happen as I did forecast The daintest dishes shall be serv'd up last I pray thee then deny me not thy aide For this same small neglect that I have made: But haste thee strait to do me once a Pleasure And from thy wardrope bring thy chiefest treasure; Not those new fangled toys, and triming slight Which takes our late fantasticks with delight But cull those richest Robes, and gay'st attire Which deepest Spirits, and choicest Wits desire: I have some naked thoughts that rove about And loudly knock to have their pa**age out; And wearie of their place do only stay Till thou hast deck't them in thy best aray; That so they may without suspect or fears Fly swiftly to this fair Assembly's ears; Yet I had rather if I were to chuse Thy service in some graver subject use Such as may make thee search thy coffers round Before thou cloath my fancy in fit sound: Such where the deep transported mind may scare Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'ns dore Look in, and see each blissful Deitie How he before the thunderous throne doth lie Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings To th'touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings Immortal Nectar to her Kingly Sire: Then pa**ing through the Spherse of watchful fire And mistie Regions of wide air next under And hills of Snow and lofts of piled Thunder May tell at length how green-ey'd Neptune raves In Heav'ns defiance mustering all his waves; Then sing of secret things that came to pa** When Beldam Nature in her cradle was; And last of Kings and Queens and Hero's old Such as the wise Demodocus once told In solemn Songs at King Alcinous feast While sad Ulisses soul and all the rest Are held with his melodious harmonie In willing chains and sweet captivitie But fie my wandring Muse how thou dost stray! Expectance calls thee now another way Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent To keep in compa** of thy Predicament: Then quick about thy purpos'd business come That to the next I may resign my Roome Then Ens is represented as Father of the Predicaments his ten Sons, whereof the Eldest stood for Substance with his Canons Which Ens thus speaking, explains Good luck befriend thee Son; for at thy birth The Faiery Ladies daunc't upon the hearth; Thy drowsie Nurse hath sworn she did them spie Come tripping to the Room where thou didst lie; And sweetly singing round about thy Bed Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping Head She heard them give thee this, that thou should'st still From eyes of mortals walk invisible Yet there is something that doth force my fear For once it was my dismal hap to hear A Sybil old, bow-bent with crooked age That far events full wisely could presage And in Times long and dark Prospective Gla** Fore-saw what future dayes should bring to pa** Your Son, said she, (nor can you it prevent) Shall subject be to many an Accident O're all his Brethren he shall Reign as King Yet every one shall make him underling And those that cannot live from him asunder Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under In worth and excellence he shall out-go them Yet being above them, he shall be below them; From others he shall stand in need of nothing Yet on his Brothers shall depend for Cloathing To find a Foe it shall not be his hap And peace shall lull him in her flowry lap; Yet shall he live in strife, and at his dore Devouring war shall never cease to roare; Yea it shall be his natural property To harbour those that are at enmity What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? Rivers arise; whether thou be the Son Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulphie Dun Or Trent, who like some earth-born Giant spreads His thirty Armes along the indented Meads Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath Or Severn swift, guilty of Maidens d**h Or Rockie Avon, or of Sedgie Lee Or Coaly Tine, or antient hallowed Dee Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythians Name Or Medway smooth, or Royal Towred Thame