ELEGIES AND EPIGRAMS
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��ELEGIA QUINTA
Anno atatis 20
IN ADVEXTUM VERIS
ELEGY V Ox THE COMING OF SPRIXG
��Although this poem contains no definite au- tobiographical matter, it throws much light upon Milton's youthful character. The influ- ence of Ovid, everywhere latent and in many places explicitly acknowledged in the Latin poems, is here most evident. The quite pagan fervor and abandon of the entire poem is re- markable. The opening sentence of the second paragraph, it will be seen, was afterwards
Ix se perpetuo Tempus revolubile gyro Jam revocat Zephyros, vere tepente,
novos; Induiturque brevem Tellus reparata juveu-
tam,
Jamque soluta gelu dulce virescit humus. Fallor ? an et nobis redeunt in carmiua
vires,
Ingeniumque mini munere veris adest ? Munere veris adest, iterumque vigescit ab
illo (Quis putet ?) atque aliquod jam sibi
poscit opus. Castalis ante oculos, bifidumque cacumen
oberrat,
Et mibi Pirenen somnia nocte ferunt; 10 Concitaque arcane fervent mihi pectora
motu,
Et furor, et sonitus me sacer intus agit. Delius ipse venit (video Peneide lauro Implicitos crines), Delius ipse venit. Jam mihi mensliquidi raptatur in ardua caeli,
Perque vagas nubes corpore liber eo; Perque umbras, perque antra feror, pene- tralia vatum;
Et mihi fana patent interiora Deum; Intuiturque animus toto quid agatur Olympo, 19
Nee fugiunt oculos Tartara cseca meos. Quid tarn graude sonat distento spiritus ore? Quid par it hsec rabies, quid sacer iste
furor ? Ver mihi, quod dedit ingenium, cantabitur
illo; Prof uerint isto reddita dona modo.
��transferred almost bodily to the Sonnet on the Nightingale. It is interesting to compare the testimony of the opening lines, concerning the power of the spring to unloose the fountains of poetic inspiration, with Milton's statement to Phillips, many years after, that his vein '* never flowed freely but from the autumnal equinox to the vernal.
��TIME, revolving in perpetual gyre, now as the spring grows tepid calls back the Zephyrs. Earth puts on a brief new youth, and the ground loosened by thaws grows gently green. Do I mistake ? Doth not also my strength in song return ? At the spring's gift is not inspiration here ? At the spring's gift 't is here ! Again it gath- ers strength (who could believe it ?) and looks about for some noble task. Castaly sways before my eyes, and the cloven peak of Parnassus; and the dreams of night bring me to Pirene, the Corinthian spring. My breast is moved with mysterious fer- vors; madness and divine tumult inly wrack me. Delian Apollo himself comes (I see his locks bound with Daphne's laurel), Delian Apollo himself comes. Now my spirit is rapt into the skyey steeps, and freed from the flesh I walk through the wandering clouds; through the shades I go, and the caverns, inmost prophetic sanctua- ries; and the inner fanes of the gods lie open to me. My soul sees all that comes to pass in Olympus, and the darks of Hades escape not my vision. What lofty song does my soul intend, as it stands with lips apart ? what does this madness mean, this sacred fury ? The spring, the spring which gave me dower of genius, my genius will celebrate. Thus her gifts shall return to profit her.
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