POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE
��All living creatures he doth feed, And with full hand supplies their need; For his, &c.
Let us, therefore, warble forth His mighty majesty and worth; 90
For his, &c.
That his mansion hath on high, Above the reach of mortal eye;
For his mercies aye endure, Ever faithful, ever sure.
��ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR IN- FANT DYING OF A COUGH
(1625-26)
The subject of this poem, the first of the English poems dating from Cambridge, was a niece of Milton's, the child of his sister Anne and of Edward Phillips. The couple had been married but a short time, and were living in the Strand, near Charing Cross. Their baby's death occurred during the severe winter of 1625-26, which followed upon the devastating plague of the autumn, alluded to in the next to the last stanza. The reader will remember that the Edward and John Phillips who figure go prominently in Milton's biography were brothers of this child.
��O FAIREST Flower, no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken Primrose fading tunelessly,
Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out- lasted
Bleak Winter's force that made thy blos- som dry;
For he, being amorous on that lovely dye That did thy cheek envenneil, thought to kiss,
But killed, alas ! and then bewailed his fa- tal bliss.
II
For since grim Aquilo, his charioter,
By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, 9
He thought it touched his deity full near,
If likewise he some one fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot Of long uncoupled bed and childless eld,
Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a foul re- proach was held.
��ill
So, mounting up in icy-pearled car,
Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wandered long, till thee he spied from far;
There ended was his quest, there ceased his care:
Down he descended from his snow-soft
chair,
But, all un'wares, with his cold-kind em- brace, 20
Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place.
IV
Yet thou art not inglorious in thy fate; For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate, Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, Young Hyacintb, the pride of Spartan
land; But then transformed him to a purple
flower: Alack, that so to change thee Winter had
no power !
��Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark
womb, 30
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed Hid from the world in a low-delved tomb; Could Heaven, for pity, thee so strictly
doom? Oh no ! for something in thy face did
shine Above mortality, that showed thou wast
divine.
VI
Resolve me, then, O Soul most surely blest (If so be it that thou these plaints dost
hear) Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hov-
erest, Whether above that high first -moving
sphere, Or in the Elysian fields (if such there
were), 4
Oh, say me true if thou wert mortal
wight, And why from us so quickly thou didst
take thy flight.
�� �
