118 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
118 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
1626
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ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH
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by John Milton
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On the Death of a Fair Infant Dying of a Cough.
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Anno aetatis 17
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I
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O FAIREST flower no sooner blown but blasted,
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Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie,
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Summers chief honour if thou hadst out-lasted
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Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie;
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For he being amorous on that lovely die
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That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss
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But kill'd alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss.
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II
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For since grim Aquilo his charioter
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By boistrous rape th' Athenian damsel got,
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He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer,
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If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
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Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot,
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Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,
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Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.
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III
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So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr,
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Through middle empire of the freezing aire
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He wanderd long, till thee he spy'd from farr,
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There ended was his quest, there ceast his care.
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Down he descended from his Snow-soft chaire,
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But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace
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Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.
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IV
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Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
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For so Apollo, with unweeting hand
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Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate
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Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' strand,
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Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;
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But then transform'd him to a purple flower
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Alack that so to change thee winter had no power.
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V
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Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead
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Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe,
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Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,
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Hid from the world in a low delved tombe;
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Could Heavn for pittie thee so strictly doom?
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Oh no! for something in thy face did shine
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Above mortalitie that shew'd thou wast divine.
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VI
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Resolve me then oh Soul most surely blest
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(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear)
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Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hoverest
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Whether above that high first-moving Spheare
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Or in the Elisian fields (if such there were.)
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Oh say me true if thou wert mortal wight
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And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight.
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VII
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Wert thou some Starr which from the ruin'd roofe
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Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall;
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Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe
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Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
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Or did of late earths Sonnes besiege the wall
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Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou some goddess fled
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Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head.
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VIII
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Or wert thou that just Maid who once before
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Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth
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And cam'st again to visit us once more?
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Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth!
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Or that c[r]own'd Matron sage white-robed Truth?
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Or any other of that heav'nly brood
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Let down in clowdie throne to do the world some good.
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IX
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Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoast,
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Who having clad thy self in humane weed,
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To earth from thy praefixed seat didst poast,
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And after short abode flie back with speed,
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As if to shew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
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Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
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To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire.
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X
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But oh why didst thou not stay here below
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To bless us with thy heav'n-lov'd innocence,
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To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe
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To turn Swift-rushing black perdition hence,
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Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence,
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To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart
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But thou canst best perform that office where thou art.
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XI
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Then thou the mother of so sweet a child
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Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament,
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And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
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Think what a present thou to God hast sent,
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And render him with patience what he lent;
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This if thou do he will an off-spring give,
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That till the worlds last-end shall make thy name to live.
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-THE END-
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