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Nor castle walls, nor dungeons deep,
Exclude his quickening beams;
And dwell on heavenly themes.
A joy beyond compare;
No pride can enter there.
A Saviour doubles all my joys,
And sweetens all my pains,
Consoles me and sustains.
I fear no ill, resent no wrong,
Nor feel a passion move,
Such patience is in love.
SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION.
Wilds horrid and dark with o'ershadowing trees,
Rocks that ivy and briers infold, Scenes Nature with dread and astonishment sees,
But I with a pleasure untold;
Though awfully silent, and shaggy, and rude,
I am charmed with the peace ye afford; Your shades are a temple where none will intrude,
The abode of my Lover and Lord.
I am sick of thy splendour, O fountain of day,
And here I am hid from its beams; Here safely contemplate a brighter display
Of the noblest and holiest themes.
Ye forests, that yield me my sweetest repose,
Where stillness and solitude reign, To you I securely and boldly disclose
The dear anguish of which I complain. .
Here, sweetly forgetting, and wholly forgot
By the world and its turbulent throng, The birds and the streams lend me many a note
That aids meditation and song.
Here, wandering in scenes that are sacred to night,
Love wears me and wastes me away;
Ere yet I perceive it is day.
While a mantle of darkness envelopes the sphere,
My sorrows are safely rehearsed;
And the last is as sweet as the first.
Mankind are the wolves that I fear:
But nobody questions it here.
That appetite wishes to find,
And appetite wholly resigned.
My life I in praises employ,
Proceed they from sorrów or joy.
I feel out my way in the dark;
Yet hardly distinguish the spark.
Such a riddle is not to be found;
I have nothing, and yet I abound.
Though dimly yet surely I see
In the soul that is chosen of thee
Perversely by folly beguiled :
The spirit and heart of a child ?
A little one whom they despise,
Shall be holy and happy and wise.
COMPLIMENTARY POEMS TO MILTON
FROM THE LATIN AND ITALIAN
THE NEAPOLITAN, John Baptist Manso
MARQUIS OF VILLA
What features, form, mien, manners, with a mind
ADDRESSED TO THE ENGLISHMAN, JOHN MILTON, A POET WORTHY OF THREE LAURELS, THE GRECIAN, LATIN, AND ETRUSCAN,
BY JOHN SALSILLO, OF ROME
Meles and Mincio, both, your urns depress!
Το JOHN MILTON
GREECE, sound thy Homer's, Rome, thy Virgil's name,