Ruin, destruction at the utmost point.
M. Of ruin, indeed, methought I heard the noise :
Oh! it continues ; they have slain my son.
C. Thy son is rather slaying them : that outcry
From slaughter of one foe could not ascend.
M. Some dismal accident it needs must be;
What shall we do? stay here, or run and see?
C. Best keep together here, lest, running thither,
We unawares run into danger's mouth.
This evil on the Philistines is fallen :
From whom could else a general cry be heard ?
The sufferers then will scarce molest us here;
From other hands we need not much to fear.
What if, his eye-sight (for to Israel's God
Nothing is hard) by miracle restored,
He now be dealing dole among his foes,
And over heaps of slaughter'd walk his way?
M. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought.
C. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible
For his people of old ; what hinders now?

519. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;

And ye, that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,
When he comes back : you demy-puppets, that
By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight-mushrooms; that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid
(Weak masters though ye be,) I have bedimm’d
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up

The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,
Have waked their sleepers ; oped, and let them forth
By my so potent art: but this rough magick
I here abjure : and, when I have requir'd
Some heavenly musick, which even now I do,
To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my book.

520. Twice vanquish'd Phrygians, are ye not ashamed

To be again blockaded, and behind
Your walls to skulk? Shall men like you demand
Brides with the sword ? What god to Italy,
What madness brought you ? No Atrides here,
Nor subtle-tongued Ulysses ye will find.
We from our cradle are a hardy race:
Our infants to the river-side we bring,
In water plunge, invigorate with cold:
Our boys are hunters taught the woods to range;
Their pastime, steeds to curb, or bend the bow :
Our youths, to toil and scanty fare inured,
Subdue the earth with ploughs, shake towns in war:
We pass our life in arms, our oxen's back
Goad with inverted spears. Not even age
Our minds can weaken or our strength impair:
The hoary head in helmet we encase,
Subsist on plunder, and in spoil delight.
But ye in saffron vest and purple shine,
Ye love the dance and sloth and indolence,
Sleeves on the tunic, coifs with ribbon tied ;
Women, not men! Go back to Dindymus,
Where the pipe's double note may charm your ear;
The timbrels and the flutes of Cybele
Await you there: to men leave arms and steel.

521. C. Where is my fair and lovely Proserpine?

Speak, Jove's fair daughter, whither art thou stray'd ?
I've sought the meadows, glebes, and new-reap'd

Yet cannot find my child. Her scatter'd flowers,
And garland half made up, I've lit upon;
But her I cannot spy. Behold the trace
Of some strange wagon, that has scorch'd the trees
And singed the grass : these ruts the sun ne'er seared.
Where art thou, love? where art thou, Proserpine?
O thou that, on thy shelly trumpet sounding,
Summon’st the sea-god, answer from the depth.
T. On Neptune's sea-horse with my concave trump
Thro' all the abyss I've shrill’d thy daughter's loss.
The channels clothed in waters, the low cities
In which the water-gods and sea-nymphs dwell,
I have perused; sought thro' whole woods and forests
Of leafless coral, planted in the deeps;
Toss'd up the beds of pearl ; roused up huge whales,
And stern sea-monsters, from their rocky dens;
Those bottoms bottomless, shallows and shelves,
And all those currents where th' earth's springs

break in;
Those plains where Neptune feeds his porpoises,
Sea-horses, seals, and all his cattle else :
Thro' all our ebbs and tides my trump hath blazed


Yet can no cavern shew me Proserpine.
522. Q. Would I had never trod this English earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched lady?
I am the most unhappy woman living.–
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes ?
Shipwrečk'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me,

Almost, no grave allow'd me. Like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field, and flourishid,
I'll hang my head, and perish. W. If your grace
Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest,
You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,
Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas ! our places,
The way of our profession is against it;
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them.
For goodness' sake, consider what you do ;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it ; but, to stubborn spirits,
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.
I know, you have a gentle, noble temper,
A soul as even as a calm. Pray think us
Those we profess; peace-makers, friends, and ser-


523. V. Juno and Pallas promise gallantly.

P. Yet this concludes not what Minerva can
Bestow upon her Paris. If the arts
Inflame thee not, or do appear less active
And glorious to meet thy fierce ambition,
Fame shall want breath to tell the world what

Shall crown thy name in war, if Pallas arm
Thy breast with courage, which my bounty throws
To thy acceptance. If that ball be mine,
Ill give thee a spirit, Trojan, and such conquests
By thine own valour, as at once shall fright
And please the hearer's faith. Nations shall tremble
To mention thy great acts, whose memory
Shall out-live all Egyptian pyramids,
And bloom when winters have defac'd the world
And feeble time shall droop and halt with age.

Trophies shall fall in duty to thy sword,
And captive princes wait upon thy chariot :
Some shall build statues, others invent games,
Some temples to thy name: while holy priests,
And virgin quires shall make it their religion
To pay thee songs, and crown thy images
With ever-springing garlands. Be wise, Paris:
Resolve to make that golden circle mine,

Both arts and arms shall make their glories thine. 524. He told the hidden power of herbs and springs,

And disease drank and slept; death grew like sleep.
He taught the implicated orbits woven
Of the wide-wandering stars; and how the sun
Changes his lair, and by what secret spell
The pale moon is transform’d, when her broad eye
Gazes not on the interlunar sea.
He taught to rule, as life directs the limbs,
The tempest-winged chariots of the Ocean ;
And the Celt knew the Indian: cities then
Were built, and through their snow-like columns

The warm winds, and the azure ether shone,
And the blue sea and shadowy hills were seen.
Such, the alleviations of his state,
Prometheus gave to man, for which he hangs
Withering in destined pain. But who rains down
Evil, the immedicable plague, which, while
Man looks on his creation like a god,
And sees that it is glorious, drives him on
The wreck of his own will, the scorn of earth,
The outcast, the abandon'd, the alone?
Not Jove : while yet his frown shook heaven, aye,

His adversary from adamantine chains
Curs’d him, he trembled like a slave. Declare
Who is his master? Is he too a slave ?

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