Laurel · John Milton · L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas

Lycidas

John Milton (1608–1674) · 1631–1645

iambic pentameter · 198 lines · from L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas

In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunatelydrowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637;and,by occasion, foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then intheir 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 forced fingers rudeShatter your leaves before the mellowing year.Bitter constraint and sad occasion dearCompels 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 knewHimself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.He must not float upon his watery bierUnwept, and welter to the parching wind,Without the meed of some melodious tear.Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred wellThat 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 MuseWith lucky words favour my destined urn,And as he passes turn,And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;Together both, ere the high lawns appearedUnder the opening eyelids of the Morn,We drove a-field, and both together heardWhat time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn,Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,Oft till the star that rose at evening brightToward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel.Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute;Tempered to the oaten flute,Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heelFrom the glad sound would not be absent long;And old Damoetas loved to hear our song.But, oh! 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 seenFanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.As killing as the canker to the rose,Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,When first the white-thorn blows;Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deepClosed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?For neither were ye playing on the steepWhere your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.Ay me! I fondly dreamRHad ye been there, S . . . for what could that have done?What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,Whom universal nature did lament,When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,His gory visage down the stream was sent,Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?Alas! what boots it with uncessant careTo tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,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 Neaera's hair?Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise(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. "But not the praise,"Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears:"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,Nor in the glistering foilSet off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies,But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyesAnd perfect witness of all-judging Jove;As he pronounces lastly on each deed,Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed."O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood,Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned 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,That came in Neptune's plea.He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?And questioned every gust of rugged wingsThat blows from off each beaked promontory.They knew not of his story;And sage Hippotades their answer brings,That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed:The air was calm, and on the level brineSleek Panope with all her sisters played.It was that fatal and perfidious bark,Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edgeLike to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe."Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?"Last came, and last did go,The Pilot of the Galilean Lake;Two massy keys he bore of metals twain.(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:--"How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake,Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!Of other care they little reckoning makeThan how to scramble at the shearers' feast,And shove away the worthy bidden guest.Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to holdA sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the leastThat to the faithful herdman's art belongs!What recks it them? What need they? They are sped:And, when they list, their lean and flashy songsGrate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;Besides what the grim wolf with privy pawDaily devours apace, and nothing said.But that two-handed engine at the doorStands ready to smite once, and smite no more."Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is pastThat shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse,And call the vales, and bid them hither castTheir bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers useOf shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,That on the green turf suck the honeyed 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 freaked with jet,The glowing violet,The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,And every flower that sad embroidery wears;Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.For so, to interpose a little ease,Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise,Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seasWash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled;Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,Where thou perhaps under the whelming tideVisit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,Where the great Vision of the guarded mountLooks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold.Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,And yet anon repairs his drooping head,And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled oreFlames in the forehead of the morning sky:So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,Where, other groves and other streams along,With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.There entertain him all the Saints above,In solemn troops, and sweet societies,That Sing, and singing in their glory move,And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,In thy large recompense, and shalt be goodTo all that wander in that perilous flood.Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,While the still morn went out with sandals grey:He touched the tender stops of various quills,With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,And now was dropt into the western bay.At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

Words in this poem 73

monody n.: A species of poem of a mournful character, in which a single mourner expresses lamentation; a song for one voice. [L. monodia, Gr. monodie. See Ode.]
sere n.: Claw; talon. Chapman. [F. serre.]
bier n.: A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
welter v. i.: To roll, as the body of an animal; to tumble about, especially in anything foul or defiling; to wallow. [Freq. of OE. walten to roll over, AS. wealtan; akin to LG. weltern, G. walzen to roll, to waltz, sich wälzen to welter, OHG. walzan to roll, Icel. velta, Dan. v]
parching a.: Scorching; burning; drying.
meed v. t.: To reward; to repay. Waytt.
jove n.: The chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter. [L. Jupiter, gen. Jovis, OL. Jovis, nom. & gen. for Djovis; akin to E. Tuesday. See Tuesday, and cf. Jupiter.]
favour n.: Kind regard; propitious aspect; countenance; friendly disposition; kindness; good will. [Written also favour.]
sable n.: A carnivorous animal of the Weasel family (Mustela zibellina) native of the northern latitudes of Europe, Asia, and America, -- noted for its fine, soft, and valuable fur. [OF. sable, F. zibeline sable (in sense 4), LL. sabellum; cf. D. sabel, Dan. sabel, zobel, Sw. sabel, sobel, G. zobel; all fr. Russ. sóbole.]
rill n.: A very small brook; a streamlet. [Cf. LG. rille a small channel or brook, a furrow, a chamfer, OE. rigol a small brook, F. rigole a trench or furrow for water, W. rhill a row, rhigol a little di]
morn n.: The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
drove n.: A collection of cattle driven, or cattle collected for driving; a number of animals, as oxen, sheep, or swine, driven in a body. [AS. draf, fr. drifan to drive. See Drive.]
battening n.: Furring done with small pieces nailed directly upon the wall.
westering a.: Passing to the west.
meanwhile n.: The intervening time; as, in the meantime (or mean time).
oaten a.: Consisting of an oat straw or stem; as, an oaten pipe.
gadding a.: Going about much, needlessly or without purpose.
shall v. i.: To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
weanling: a. & n. from Wean, v.
wardrobe n.: A room or apartment where clothes are kept, or wearing apparel is stored; a portable closet for hanging up clothes. [OE. warderobe, OF. warderobe, F. garderobe; of German origin. See Ward, v. t., and Robe.]
remorseless a.: Being without remorse; having no pity; hence, destitute of sensibility; cruel; insensible to distress; merciless.
mona n.: A small, handsome, long-tailed West American monkey (Cercopithecus mona). The body is dark olive, with a spot of white on the haunches. [CF. Sp. & Pg. mona, fem. of mono a monkey, ape.]
deva n.: A god; a deity; a divine being; an idol; a king. [Skr. d. Cf. Deity.]
fondly adv.: Foolishly. Verstegan (1673).
orpheus n.: The famous mythic Thracian poet, son of the Muse Calliope, and husband of Eurydice. He is reputed to have had power to entrance beasts and inanimate objects by the music of his lyre.
gory a.: Covered with gore or clotted blood. [From Gore.]
visage n.: The face, countenance, or look of a person or an animal; -- chiefly applied to the human face. [F. visage, from L. visus a seeing, a look, fr. videre, visum, to see. See Vision.]
lesbian a.: Of or pertaining to the island anciently called Lesbos, now Mitylene, in the Grecian Archipelago.
uncessant a.: Incessant. Dr. H. More.
homely a.: Belonging to, or having the characteristics of, home; domestic; familiar; intimate. [From Home, n.]
thankless a.: Not acknowledging favors; not expressing thankfulness; unthankful; ungrateful.
amaryllis n.: A pastoral sweetheart.
guerdon n.: A reward; requital; recompense; -- used in both a good and a bad sense. [OF. guerdon, guerredon, LL. widerdonum (influenced by L. donum gift, cf. Donation ), fr. OHG. widarl; widar again, against (G. wider wieder) + lon reward, G. lo]
phoebus n.: Apollo; the sun god.
rumour n.: A flying or popular report; the common talk; hence, public fame; notoriety. [F. rumeur, L. rumor; cf. rumificare, rumitare to rumor, Skr. ru to cry.]
lastly adv.: In the last place; in conclusion.
expect v. t.: To wait for; to await. [L. expectatum, to look out for, await, expect; ex + out spectare to look at. See Spectacle.]
mishap v. i.: To happen unluckily; -- used impersonally.
beaked a.: Having a beak or a beaklike point; beak-shaped.
dungeon n.: A close, dark prison, commondonjon or keep of a castle, these being used as prisons. [OE. donjoun highest tower of a castle, tower, prison, F. donjon tower or platform in the midst of a castle, turret, or closet on the top of a house, a keep of a]
reverend a.: Worthy of reverence; entitled to respect mingled with fear and affection; venerable. [F. révérend, L. reverendus, fr. revereri. See Revere.]
sire n.: A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
went n.: Course; way; path; journey; direction.
inwrought p. p.: Wrought or worked in or among other things; worked into any fabric so as to from a part of its texture; wrought or adorned, as with figures. [Pref. in- + wrought. Cf. Inwork.]
reft n.: A chink; a rift. See Rift. Rom. of R.
quoth v. t.: Said; spoke; uttered; -- used only in the first and third persons in the past tenses, and always followed by its nominative, the word or words said being the object; as, quoth I. quoth he. [AS.cweedhan, imp cwæedh, pl. cwædon; akin to OS. queedhan, OHG. quethan, quedan, Icel. kveedha, Goth. qiþan. sq. root22. Cf. Bequeath.]
galilean a.: Of or pertaining to Galileo; as, the Galilean telescope. See Telescope.
massy a.: Compacted into, or consisting of, a mass; having bulk and weight ot substance; ponderous; bulky and heavy; weight; heavy; as, a massy shield; a massy rock.
twain a.: Two;- nearly obsolete in common discourse, but used in poetry and burlesque. [OE. twein, tweien, tweyne, AS. twegen, masc. See Two.]
amain adv.: With might; with full force; vigorously; violently; exceedingly. [Pref. a- + main. See 2d Main, n.]
shook v. t.: To pack, as staves, in a shook.
enow: A form of Enough.
scarce a.: Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
aught n.: Property; possession. [AS. , fr. agan to own, p. p. ahte.]
scrannel a.: Slight; thin; lean; poor. Having Grate on their scranned pipes of wretched straw. [Cf. Scrawny.]
swoln: Contraction of Swollen, p. p.
apace adv.: With a quick pace; quick; fast; speedily. [Pref. a- + pace. OE. a pas at a walk, in which a is the article. See Pace.]
sicilian a.: Of or pertaining to Sicily or its inhabitants. Sicilian vespers, the great massacre of the French in Sicily, in the year 1282, on the evening of Easter Monday, at the hour of vespers.
sparely adv.: In a spare manner; sparingly.
quaint a.: Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
honeyed a.: Covered with honey.
rathe a.: Coming before others, or before the usual time; early. [AS. hræ\'eb, hræd, quick, akin to OHG. hrad, Icel. hrathr.]
laureate a.: Crowned, or decked, with laurel. [L. laureatus, fr. laurea laurel tree, fr. laureus of laurel, fr. laurus laurel: cf. F. lauréat. Cf. Laurel.]
dally v. i.: To waste time in effeminate or voluptuous pleasures, or in idleness; to fool away time; to delay unnecessarily; to tarry; to trifle. [OE. , dailien; cf. Icel. pylja to talk, G. dallen, dalen, dahlen, to trifle, talk nonsense, OSw. tule a droll or funny man; or AS. dol foolish, E. dull.]
homeward a.: Being in the direction of home; as, the homeward way.
ruth n.: Sorrow for the misery of another; pity; tenderness. [From Rue, v.: cf. Icel. hryggedh, hrygedh.]
waft v. t.: To give notice to by waving something; to wave the hand to; to beckon. [Prob. originally imp. & p. p. of wave, v. t. See Wave to waver.]
hapless a.: Without hap or luck; luckless; unfortunate; unlucky; unhappy; as, hapless youth; hapless maid.
anon adv.: Straightway; at once. [OE. anoon, anon, anan, lit., in one (moment), fr. AS. on in + an one. See On and One.]
unexpressive a.: Not expressive; not having the power of utterance; inexpressive.
henceforth adv.: From this time forward; henceforward.
shalt: 2d per. sing. of Shall.
tomorrow adv.: On the day after the present day; on the next day; on the morrow. [Prep. to + morrow.]

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

Lycidas is in the public domain. This text is taken from L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas, Project Gutenberg ebook #397; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: John Milton, Lycidas, in L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas (1631–1645), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #397, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/milton-minor-poems/lycidas.html, id L01981.

Form and metre

Lycidas is 198 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.8 syllables. 11 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 19% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in iambic pentameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

2 -ABBAACDACDA-A-EE--FF-GG-H-HIIJKKJLL-----MMNONPOPQ-QRRSSTUTVUVU-W--W-XYXYXZXZaabb-cc-d-dee--fggfhihjjikllklkmnnmnmomp-opqrqsrsrsrttuvuv-wwxxxx-yy-zAzABCBCDCEDEF-FGGHIHIIHJJKLKLMMNMNOOPPQRQRQRSS more · sere^A · crude^B · rude^B · year^A · dear^A · due^C · prime^D · peer^A · knew^C · rhyme^D · bier^A · wind · tear^A · well · spring^E · string^E · excuse · muse · urn^F · turn^F · shroud · hill^G · rill^G · appeared · morn^H · heard · horn^H · night^I · bright^I · wheel^J · mute^K · flute^K · heel^J · long^L · song^L · gone · return · caves · o'ergrown · mourn · green^M · seen^M · lays^N · rose^O · graze^N · wear^P · blows^O · ear^P · deep^Q · lycidas · steep^Q · lie^R · high^R · stream^S · dream^S · done^T · bore^U · son^T · lament^V · roar^U · sent^V · shore^U · care · trade^W · muse · use · shade^W · hair · raise^X · mind^Y · days^X · find^Y · blaze^X · shears^Z · praise^X · ears^Z · soil^a · foil^a · lies^b · eyes^b · jove · deed^c · meed^c · flood · reeds^d · mood · proceeds^d · sea^e · plea^e · winds · swain · wings^f · promontory^g · story^g · brings^f · strayed^h · brineⁱ · played^h · bark^j · dark^j · thineⁱ · slow^k · sedge^l · edge^l · woe^k · pledge^l · go^k · lake^m · twainⁿ · amainⁿ · bespake^m · swainⁿ · sake^m · fold^o · make^m · feast^p · guest · hold^o · least^p · belongs^q · sped^r · songs^q · straw^s · fed^r · draw^s · spread^r · paw^s · said^r · door^t · more^t · past^u · muse^v · cast^u · hues^v · use · brooks^w · looks^w · eyes^x · showers^x · flowers^x · dies^x · jessamine · jet^y · violet^y · woodbine · head^z · wears^A · shed^z · tears^A · lies^B · ease^C · surmise^B · seas^C · hurled^D · hebrides^C · tide^E · world^D · denied^E · old^F · mount · hold^F · ruth^G · youth^G · more^H · dead^I · floor^H · bed^I · head^I · ore^H · sky^J · high^J · waves^K · along^L · laves^K · song^L · love^M · above^M · societies^N · move^M · eyes^N · more^O · shore^O · good^P · flood^P · rills^Q · grey^R · quills^Q · lay^R · hills^Q · bay^R · blue^S · new^S

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately	16	··/˘˘·/˘·····˘/˘
drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637;	13	···/˘·/˘··/˘·
and,	1	·
by occasion, foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in	17	·˘/˘˘/·/·/˘/˘/˘··
their height.	2	··
YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more,	10	·····/˘···
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,	10	·····/˘···
And with forced fingers rude	6	···/˘·
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.	10	/˘·····/˘·
Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear	10	/˘˘/··˘/˘·
Compels me to disturb your season due;	10	˘/··˘/·/˘·
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,	10	··········
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.	10	··········
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew	10	··········
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.	10	˘/·····/˘·
He must not float upon his watery bier	10	·······/˘·
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Without the meed of some melodious tear.	10	······˘/˘·
Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well	10	˘/·/˘··/˘·
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;	10	··········
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.	10	˘/·///˘···
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse:	10	··˘/˘···˘/
So may some gentle Muse	6	···/˘·
With lucky words favour my destined urn,	10	·/˘·/˘·/˘·
And as he passes turn,	6	···/˘·
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!	10	·······/˘·
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,	10	··········
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;	10	·····/˘···
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared	10	˘/˘·····˘/
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,	10	···/˘/····
We drove a-field, and both together heard	10	······˘/˘·
What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn,	10	·······/˘·
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,	10	/˘/·······
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright	10	·······/˘·
Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel.	12	··/˘˘/···/˘·
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute;	10	/··/˘/˘···
Tempered to the oaten flute,	7	/˘··/˘·
Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel	10	·······/˘·
From the glad sound would not be absent long;	10	·······/˘·
And old Damoetas loved to hear our song.	10	········/·
But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,	10	···/˘·····
Now thou art gone and never must return!	10	·····/˘·˘/
Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,	10	·/˘····/˘·
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,	10	·····/˘···
And all their echoes, mourn.	6	···/˘·
The willows, and the hazel copses green,	10	·/···/˘/˘·
Shall now no more be seen	6	······
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.	10	/˘·/˘·····
As killing as the canker to the rose,	10	·/˘··/˘···
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,	10	·····/˘···
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,	10	···/···/··
When first the white-thorn blows;	6	······
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.	10	·······/˘·
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep	10	······˘/˘·
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?	10	··········
For neither were ye playing on the steep	10	·/˘··/˘···
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,	10	·····/˘/˘·
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.	10	···/˘··/˘·
Ay me! I fondly dream	6	···/˘·
RHad ye been there, S . . . for what could that have done?	11	···········
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,	10	····˘/·/˘·
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,	10	··˘/··˘/˘·
Whom universal nature did lament,	10	··˘/˘/˘·˘/
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,	10	·······/˘·
His gory visage down the stream was sent,	10	·/˘/˘·····
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?	10	·······/˘·
Alas! what boots it with uncessant care	10	˘/····˘/˘·
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,	10	···/˘/˘/˘·
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Were it not better done, as others use,	10	···/˘··/˘·
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,	10	····˘/˘···
Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?	9	···/˘····
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise	10	·······/··
(That last infirmity of noble mind)	10	··˘/˘˘·/˘·
To scorn delights and live laborious days;	10	··˘/··˘/˘·
But, the fair guerdon when we hope to find,	10	···/˘·····
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,	10	·······/˘·
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,	10	···/˘··˘/·
And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise,"	10	··········
Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears:	10	/˘˘/···/˘·
"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,	10	·······/˘·
Nor in the glistering foil	7	·······
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies,	11	·········˘·
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes	10	····˘/····
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;	10	·/·/˘··/˘·
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,	10	··˘/˘/˘···
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed."	10	·····/˘/··
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood,	11	·/˘·····/˘·
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,	10	·/˘····/˘·
That strain I heard was of a higher mood.	10	·······/˘·
But now my oat proceeds,	6	····˘/
And listens to the Herald of the Sea,	10	·/˘··/˘···
That came in Neptune's plea.	6	···/˘·
He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,	10	·······/˘·
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?	10	··/····/˘·
And questioned every gust of rugged wings	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
That blows from off each beaked promontory.	10	······/˘˘˘
They knew not of his story;	7	·····/˘
And sage Hippotades their answer brings,	9	······/˘·
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed:	10	·······/˘·
The air was calm, and on the level brine	10	·······/˘·
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.	10	······/˘·˘
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,	11	···/˘·˘/˘˘·
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,	11	···˘/···/˘·
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.	10	·····/˘···
Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,	10	·/˘/˘/·/˘·
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge	10	˘/·/˘·····
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.	10	···/˘/˘/··
"Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?"	10	·······/˘·
Last came, and last did go,	6	······
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake;	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain.	10	·/˘····/˘·
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:--	10	···/˘·····
"How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,	10	··········
Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake,	10	˘/·····/˘·
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!	10	··˘/······
Of other care they little reckoning make	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,	10	···/˘·····
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.	10	··˘/·/˘/˘·
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold	10	····˘/····
A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least	10	··········
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!	10	···/˘/˘·˘/
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped:	10	··········
And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs	10	·······/˘·
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;	10	···/˘··/˘·
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,	10	·/˘·······
But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,	10	··········
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;	10	·/˘˘··˘/˘·
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw	10	˘/·····/˘·
Daily devours apace, and nothing said.	10	/˘˘/˘/·/˘·
But that two-handed engine at the door	10	···/˘/˘···
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more."	10	·/˘·······
Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past	9	˘/·······
That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse,	10	····˘/˘/˘·
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast	10	·······/˘·
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.	11	········/˘·
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use	10	·/˘····/˘·
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,	10	···/˘··/˘·
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,	10	·······/˘·
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,	11	·······/˘/˘
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.	11	·/˘····/˘/˘
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,	10	···/··˘/˘·
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,	10	·/˘····/˘˘
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,	10	·····/˘···
The glowing violet,	6	·/˘/˘˘
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,	10	······˘//˘
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,	10	·/˘····/˘·
And every flower that sad embroidery wears;	10	·/˘/··˘/˘·
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,	10	·······/˘·
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,	9	·········
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.	10	···/˘·····
For so, to interpose a little ease,	10	····˘/·/˘·
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise,	10	·/··/˘··˘/
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas	10	·······/˘·
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled;	11	··˘/˘˘/····
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,	10	·····/˘/˘˘
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide	10	··˘/······
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;	10	···/˘··/˘·
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,	10	·····/··˘/
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,	10	···/˘·····
Where the great Vision of the guarded mount	10	···/˘··/˘·
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold.	10	··········
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:	10	·/˘/˘·····
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.	10	···/˘··/˘·
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,	10	···/˘/˘···
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,	10	·····/˘···
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.	10	·······/˘·
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,	10	·······/˘·
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,	10	··˘/˘/·/˘·
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore	10	·······/˘·
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:	10	···/˘··/˘·
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,	10	·······/˘·
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,	10	··········
Where, other groves and other streams along,	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,	10	·/˘··/˘···
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,	10	·······/˘·
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.	10	···/˘·····
There entertain him all the Saints above,	10	··˘/······
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,	10	·/˘···˘/˘˘
That Sing, and singing in their glory move,	10	···/˘··/˘·
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.	10	·····/˘···
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;	10	·····/˘···
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,	10	//···/˘···
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good	10	···/˘·····
To all that wander in that perilous flood.	10	···/˘··/˘·
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,	11	···//······
While the still morn went out with sandals grey:	10	·······/˘·
He touched the tender stops of various quills,	10	···/˘··/˘·
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:	10	·/˘·/˘·/˘·
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,	10	··········
And now was dropt into the western bay.	10	·······/˘·
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:	10	·······/˘·
Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.	10	˘/·····/˘·

Notes from the edition 69

Notes by Samuel Thurber, Milton's Minor Poems (Allyn and Bacon, 1901; Project Gutenberg #31706).

Stanza 2, line 1 To pluck once more the berries of the evergreens, or to gather laurels,--is to make a new venture as a poet,--to compose a poem. The berries are harsh and crude,--he shatters their leaves before the mellowing year, either because he is to mourn the death of a young man, or because he feels in himself a lack of "inward ripeness" to treat his theme worthily,--perhaps for both reasons. He shatters the leaves with forced fingers rude, in the sense that his subject is not of his own choosing.
Stanza 2, line 6 A sad duty is imposed upon him, forbidding further delay on any personal grounds.
Stanza 2, line 8 Lycidas is one of the stock names of pastoral poetry. The poem, though most serious in its main motive and intention, is to have a pastoral coloring throughout. Note the impressive repetitions, dead, dead, and the recurrences of the name Lycidas in the next two lines.
Stanza 2, line 11 he knew Himself to sing and build the lofty rhyme. Edward King had, in accordance with the college custom of his time, written verses, apparently all in Latin. Of these verses Masson, in his life of Milton, gives specimens. They seem to be commonplace.
Stanza 2, line 13 and welter to the parching wind. See Par. Lost II 594, I 78.
Stanza 2, line 15 Sisters of the sacred well. Ancient tradition connects the origin of the Muses with Pieria, a district of Macedonia at the foot of Olympus. But the springs with which we associate the Muses are Aganippe and Hippocrene on Mount Helicon.
Stanza 2, line 19 So may some gentle muse. A peculiar use of the word muse as masculine, and meaning poet.
Stanza 2, line 23 We pursued the same studies, at the same college, and we studied from early morning sometimes till after midnight. The metaphors are all pastoral.
Stanza 2, line 32 We wrote merry verse, bringing in the college jollities, in wanton student-fashion, and the good-natured old don who was our tutor affected to be pleased with our work.
Stanza 2, line 34 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel. The Satyrs, represented as having human forms, with small goat's horns and a small tail, had for their occupation to play on the flute for their master, Bacchus, or to pour his wine. The Fauns were sylvan deities, attendants of Pan, and are represented, like their master, with the ears, horns, and legs of a goat.
Stanza 2, line 37 Nature herself sympathizes with men, and mourns thy loss.
Stanza 2, line 50 Nymphs: deities of the forests and streams.
Stanza 2, line 52 on the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie. The shipwreck in which King was lost took place off the coast of Wales. Any one of the Welsh mountains will serve to make good this allusion.
Stanza 2, line 54 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high. Mona is the ancient and poetical name of the island of Anglesea.
Stanza 2, line 55 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. The Dee (Deva) below Chester expands into a broad estuary. In his lines spoken At a Vacation Exercise, Milton, characterizing many rivers, mentions the "ancient hallowed Dee." The country about the Dee had been specially famous as the seat of the old Druidical religion. In the eleventh Song of his Polyolbion, Drayton eulogizes the medicinal virtues of the salt springs in the valley of the river Weever, which attract Thetis and the Nereids:-- And Amphitrite oft this Wizard River led Into her secret walks (the depths profound and dread) Of him (supposed so wise) the hid events to know Of things that were to come, as things done long ago. In which he had been proved most exquisite to be; And bare his fame so far, that oft twixt him and Dee, Much strife there hath arose in their prophetic skill.
Stanza 2, line 56 Even the Muse Calliope could do nothing for her son Orpheus, whom the Thracian women tore to pieces under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies. The gory visage floated down the Hebrus and through the AEgean Sea to the island of Lesbos.
Stanza 2, line 64 what boots it: of what use is it?
Stanza 2, line 64 What good are we going to derive from this unremitting devotion to study?
Stanza 2, line 67 Would it not be better to abandon ourselves to social enjoyment, and to lives of frivolous trifling? Amaryllis and Neaera are stock names of shepherdesses.
Stanza 2, line 70 Understand clear, as applied to spirit, to mean "pure, guileless, unsophisticated." Sir Henry Wotton, in his Panegyric to King Charles, says of King James I.,--"I will not deny his appetite of glory, which generous minds do ever latest part from." Love of fame, according to the poet, is the motive that prompts the scholar to live as an ascetic and to persevere in toilsome labor. This love of fame is an infirmity, but not a debasing one: it leaves the mind noble. Remember, however, that the author of the Imitation of Christ prayed, Da mihi nesciri.
Stanza 2, line 75 the blind Fury with the abhorred shears. Milton here seems to ascribe to the Furies (Erinyes) the function belonging to the Fates (Parcae, Moirae). The three Fates were Klotho, the Spinner; Lachesis, the Assigner of lots; and Atropos, the Unchanging. It was the duty of Atropos to cut the thread of life at the appointed time. A querulous thought comes to the poet's mind. Our lives are obscure and laborious, sustained only by the hope of future fame; but before we attain our reward, comes death, and our ambition is brought to naught.
Stanza 2, line 76 But not the praise, Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears. The Fury cannot destroy the praise, which necessarily belongs to doing well. Praise here means the essential praise, which naturally inheres in excellence, and not the being talked about by men. The speaker is now Phoebus, the august god Apollo, the pure one, who protects law and order, and promotes whatever is good and beautiful; who reveals the will of Zeus, and presides over prophecy. Phoebus has now an admonition to give and he touches the poet's ears; as in Virgil, Eclogue IV 3,--Cynthius aurem vellit et admonuit, "The Cynthian twitched my ear and warned me."
Stanza 2, line 79 in the glistering foil Set off. See Shakespeare, Richard III. V 3 250,--"A base foul stone, made precious by the foil of England's chair."
Stanza 2, line 85 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood, Smooth-sliding Mincius. Arethusa was a fresh-water fountain at Syracuse in Sicily, and the Mincius is a river in north Italy, on which is situated Mantua, the birthplace of the poet Virgil. The great pastoral poet Theocritus is said to have been born at Syracuse. Thus Arethusa and the Mincius typify the pastoral tone in which Milton conceives and constructs his poem. But the intervention of the great god Apollo has frighted the bucolic muses, to whom therefore the poet explains it, line 87.
Stanza 2, line 88 Now I am on good terms again with the deities of lower rank. Oat is a common designation of the shepherd's pipe, or syrinx.
Stanza 2, line 89 Neptune, through his herald, Triton, pleads his freedom from all complicity in the drowning of Lycidas. Triton sends to AEolus, god of the winds, requesting him to cross-question all his subjects as to what they were doing on the day of the wreck.
Stanza 2, line 95 The winds prove their innocence, and AEolus himself comes to report to Triton that at the time of the disaster they were all at home and the air was perfectly calm. Even Panope and all her sisters were out playing on the tranquil water.
Stanza 2, line 96 sage Hippotades. AEolus was the son of Hippotes. See all about him in Odyssey, book X. Read also Ruskin, Queen of the Air, section 19.
Stanza 2, line 99 Panope was a Nereid, one of the numerous daughters of Nereus.
Stanza 2, line 103 Now comes another grand personage to make inquiry about the death of Lycidas. Camus, the deity of the river Cam, stands for the University of Cambridge.
Stanza 2, line 104 His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge. The river god is represented as wearing a mantle made of water-grasses and reeds.
Stanza 2, line 105 These lines refer to certain markings on the water-plants of the Cam, said to be correctly described here by the poet. The dimness of the figures may suggest the great age of the university, and the tokens of woe belong to the present occasion.
Stanza 2, line 106 that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. This is the hyacinth, the flower that sprang up on the spot where the youth Hyacinthus had been accidentally slain by Apollo. The petals of the hyacinth are said to be marked with the Greek letters AI AI, which form an interjection expressing grief.
Stanza 2, line 107 Lycidas was one of those collegians whose scholarship, character, and piety promise to make them the pride of their Alma Mater.
Stanza 2, line 109 The Pilot of the Galilean Lake. See Matthew XIV.
Stanza 2, line 110 Two massy keys he bore of metals twain. See Matthew XVI 19. See also Comus 13 and Par. Lost III 485. The idea of two keys, one of gold and one of iron, is not in the Bible.
Stanza 2, line 112 He shook his mitred locks. St. Peter wears the mitre as bishop.
Stanza 2, line 113 St. Peter makes but little reference to Lycidas, and his words add almost nothing to the elegiac character of the poem. His speech is one of stern and bitter satire. The second period of Milton's life, which is to be given up to intense and uncompromising partisanship in religion and politics, foreshadows itself in these lines.
Stanza 2, line 114 Enow is here used in its proper plural sense. See note on Comus 780.
Stanza 2, line 115 climb into the fold. See John X 1. The metaphor of sheep and herdsmen is continued throughout the speech.
Stanza 2, line 119 Blind mouths! As the relative pronoun beginning the next clause refers to this exclamation, mouths must be taken as a bold metaphor meaning men who are all mouth, or are supremely greedy and selfish. Moreover, they are blind.
Stanza 2, line 122 What recks it them? See note on Comus 404. They are sped: they have succeeded in their purpose. See Antony and Cleopatra II 3 35. Note also the phrase of greeting, bid God speed, as in 2 John I 10, 11, King James version.
Stanza 2, line 123 their lean and flashy songs: their sermons. Evidently Milton can cull words of extreme disparagement and vilification as well as words of unapproachable poetic beauty.
Stanza 2, line 125 The congregations are not edified. The miserable preaching they listen to fails to keep them sound in doctrine. They grow lax in their faith, and heretical opinions become fashionable.
Stanza 2, line 128 the grim wolf with privy paw is undoubtedly the Roman church.
Stanza 2, line 130 These lines evidently denounce some terrible retribution that is sure ere long to overtake the corrupt clergy described in the preceding passage. The two-handed engine at the door, that stands ready to smite once and smite no more, has never been definitely explained. We naturally think of the headsman's axe, which, however, does not become applicable till the execution of Archbishop Laud, an event not to take place till eight years after the composition of the poem. It has been suggested that Milton had in mind the two houses of Parliament, or the Parliament and the Army, as the agency through which reform was to be effected. We must remember that Milton in 1637 could not foresee the Civil War. He may have meant to combine certain scriptural expressions into a mysteriously suggestive and oracular prediction, without having in view any single and definite possibility.
Stanza 2, line 132 Return, Alpheus. The Alpheus was a river of the Peloponnesus, said to sink underground and to flow beneath the sea to Ortygia, near Syracuse, where it attempted to mingle its waters with those of the fountain Arethusa. See note on lines 85, 86. See also Shelley's poem, Arethusa. The pastoral tone of lightness and simplicity could not be maintained while St. Peter spoke. But now the Sicilian Muse returns, all the more lovely for the contrast with the stern malediction that has gone before.
Stanza 2, line 134 Milton is fond of thus collecting names of persons, places, and things, choosing them as well for their effect on the ear as for their significance. The botany of this passage is of little consequence: it matters not whether all these flowers could, or could not, be collected at the same season, or whether they could be found at the time of the year when Lycidas died. The passage offers a picture of exquisite beauty to the eye, and to the ear a strain of perfect melody.
Stanza 2, line 136 where the mild whispers use. The verb use, in this intransitive sense, with only adverbial complement, and meaning dwell, is now obsolete.
Stanza 2, line 138 the swart star: the star that makes swart, or swarthy; i.e. the sun.
Stanza 2, line 139 enamelled eyes are the flowers generally, which are to be specified. Scattered over the turf, the flowers seem to be looking upward, like eyes.
Stanza 2, line 142 rathe is the adjective whose comparative is our rather.
Stanza 2, line 149 amaranthus, by its etymology, means unfading.
Stanza 2, line 150 Daffadil is derived from asphodel, with a curious, and altogether unusual, prefixed d.
Stanza 2, line 153 dally with false surmise. King's body was not found. There was no actual strewing of the laureate hearse with flowers.
Stanza 2, line 156 the stormy Hebrides: islands off the northwest coast of Scotland.
Stanza 2, line 160 Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old. The fable of Bellerus is the fabled Bellerus, or Bellerus of the fable. He was a mythical giant of Cornwall in old British legend. Bellerium was the name given to Land's End, where he was supposed to live.
Stanza 2, line 161 the great Vision of the guarded mount. St. Michael's Mount is a pyramidal rock in Mounts Bay on the coast of Cornwall. This was guarded by the angel, St. Michael, whose gaze was directed seaward, toward Namancos and Bayona, in northwestern Spain. In some unknown place between these widely sundered limits, the body of Lycidas is tossed.
Stanza 2, line 170 with new-spangled ore. Ore, from its original meaning of metal in the natural state, comes to signify metallic lustre generally. See Comus 719, 933.
Stanza 2, line 173 See Matthew XIV 25.
Stanza 2, line 175 Compare Comus 838.
Stanza 2, line 176 the unexpressive nuptial song. See Hymn on the Nativity 116. See also Revelation XIX 7-9.
Stanza 2, line 181 And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. See Revelation XXI 4.
Stanza 2, line 183 Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore. This is the same promotion that was accorded to Melicertes, son of Ino, who on his death became the genius of the shore under the name of Palaemon.
Stanza 2, line 186 uncouth; a self-depreciating expression meaning unknown or obscure.
Stanza 2, line 187 Milton applies the epithet gray both to evening and to morning.
Stanza 2, line 188 various quills are the tubes of the shepherd pipe.
Stanza 2, line 189 Doric means simply pastoral, because the idylls of the first pastoral poets were written in the Doric dialect of Greek.
Stanza 2, line 190 had stretched out all the hills: had caused the shadows of the hills to prolong themselves eastward on the plain. The poet seems to feign that he spent a day in the composition of Lycidas.

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