The Penguin Book of English Verse

by Paul Keegan

  Of true experience from this great event

  With peace and consolation hath dismist,

  And calm of mind all passion spent.

  1671

  THOMAS TRAHERNE from Centuries of Meditations

  The Corn was Orient and Immortal Wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from Everlasting to Everlasting. The Dust and Stones of the Street were as Precious as GOLD. The Gates were at first the End of the World, The Green Trees when I saw them first through one of the Gates Transported and Ravished me; their Sweetnes and unusual Beauty made my Heart to leap, and almost mad with Extasie, they were such strange and Wonderfull Things: The Men! O what Venerable and Reverend Creatures did the Aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And yong Men Glittering and Sparkling Angels and Maids strange Seraphick Pieces of Life and Beauty! Boys and Girles Tumbling in the Street, and Playing, were moving Jewels. I knew not that they were Born or should Die. But all things abided Eternaly as they were in their Proper Places. Eternity was Manifest in the Light of the Day, and som thing infinit Behind evry thing appeared: which talked with my Expectation and moved my Desire. The Citie seemed to stand in Eden, or to be Built in Heaven. The Streets were mine, the Temple was mine, the People were mine, their Clothes and Gold and Silver was mine, as much as their Sparkling Eys fair Skins and ruddy faces. The Skies were mine, and so were the Sun and Moon and Stars, and all the World was mine, and I the only Spectator and Enjoyer of it. I knew no Churlish Proprieties, nor Bounds nor Divisions: but all Proprieties and Divisions were mine: all Treasures and the Possessors of them. So that with much adoe I was corrupted; and made to learn the Dirty Devices of this World. Which now I unlearn, and becom as it were a little Child again, that I may enter into the Kingdom of GOD.

  (1908)

  THOMAS TRAHERNE Wonder

  How like an Angel came I down!

  How Bright are all Things here!

  When first among his Works I did appear

  O how their GLORY me did Crown?

  The World resembled his Eternities,

  In which my Soul did Walk;

  And evry Thing that I did see,

  Did with me talk.

  The Skies in their Magnificence,

  The Lively, Lovely Air;

  Oh how Divine, how soft, how Sweet, how fair!

  The Stars did entertain my Sence,

  And all the Works of GOD so Bright and pure,

  So Rich and Great did seem,

  As if they ever must endure,

  In my Esteem.

  A Native Health and Innocence

  Within my Bones did grow,

  And while my GOD did all his Glories shew,

  I felt a Vigour in my Sence

  That was all SPIRIT. I within did flow

  With Seas of Life, like Wine;

  I nothing in the World did know,

  But ’twas Divine.

  Harsh ragged Objects were conceald,

  Oppressions Tears and Cries,

  Sins, Griefs, Complaints, Dissentions, Weeping Eys,

  Were hid: and only Things reveald,

  Which Heav’nly Spirits, and the Angels prize.

  The State of Innocence

  And Bliss, not Trades and Poverties,

  Did fill my Sence.

  The Streets were pavd with Golden Stones,

  The Boys and Girles were mine,

  Oh how did all their Lovly faces shine!

  The Sons of Men were Holy Ones.

  Joy, Beauty, Welfare did appear to me,

  And evry Thing which here I found,

  While like an Angel I did see,

  Adornd the Ground.

  Rich Diamond and Pearl and Gold

  In evry Place was seen;

  Rare Splendors, Yellow, Blew, Red, White and Green,

  Mine Eys did evrywhere behold,

  Great Wonders clothd with Glory did appear,

  Amazement was my Bliss.

  That and my Wealth was evry where:

  No Joy to this!

  Cursd and Devisd Proprieties,

  With Envy, Avarice

  And Fraud, those Feinds that Spoyl even Paradice,

  Fled from the Splendor of mine Eys.

  And so did Hedges, Ditches, Limits, Bounds,

  I dreamd not ought of those,

  But wanderd over all mens Grounds,

  And found Repose.

  Proprieties themselvs were mine,

  And Hedges Ornaments;

  Walls, Boxes, Coffers, and their rich Contents

  Did not Divide my Joys, but shine.

  Clothes, Ribbans, Jewels, Laces, I esteemd

  My Joys by others worn;

  For me they all to wear them seemd

  When I was born.

  (1903)

  THOMAS TRAHERNE Shadows in the Water

  In unexperienc’d Infancy

  Many a sweet Mistake doth ly:

  Mistake tho false, intending tru;

  A Seeming somwhat more than View;

  That doth instruct the Mind

  In Things that ly behind,

  And many Secrets to us show

  Which afterwards we com to know.

  Thus did I by the Water’s brink

  Another World beneath me think;

  And while the lofty spacious Skies

  Reversed there abus’d mine Eys,

  I fancy’d other Feet

  Came mine to touch and meet;

  As by som Puddle I did play

  Another World within it lay.

  Beneath the Water Peeple drown’d.

  Yet with another Hev’n crown’d,

  In spacious Regions seem’d to go

  Freely moving to and fro:

  In bright and open Space

  I saw their very face;

  Eys, Hands, and Feet they had like mine;

  Another Sun did with them shine.

  ’Twas strange that Peeple there should walk,

  And yet I could not hear them talk:

  That throu a little watry Chink,

  Which one dry Ox or Horse might drink,

  We other Worlds should see,

  Yet not admitted be;

  And other Confines there behold

  Of Light and Darkness, Heat and Cold.

  I call’d them oft, but call’d in vain;

  No Speeches we could entertain:

  Yet did I there expect to find

  Som other World, to pleas my Mind.

  I plainly saw by these

  A new Antipodes,

  Whom, tho they were so plainly seen,

  A Film kept off that stood between.

  By walking Men’s reversed Feet

  I chanc’d another World to meet;

  Tho it did not to View exceed

  A Phantasm, ’tis a World indeed,

  Where Skies beneath us shine,

  And Earth by Art divine

  Another face presents below,

  Where Peeple’s feet against Ours go.

  Within the Regions of the Air,

  Compass’d about with Hev’ns fair,

  Great Tracts of Land there may be found

  Enricht with Fields and fertil Ground;

  Where many num’rous Hosts,

  In those far distant Coasts,

  For other great and glorious Ends,

  Inhabit, my yet unknown Friends.

  O ye that stand upon the Brink,

  Whom I so near me, throu the Chink,

  With Wonder see: What Faces there,

  Whose Feet, whose Bodies, do ye wear?

  I my Companions see

  In You, another Me.

  They seemed Others, but are We;

  Our second Selvs those Shadows be.

  Look how far off those lower Skies

  Extend themselvs! scarce with mine Eys

  I can them reach. O ye my Friends,

  What Secret borders on those Ends?

  Are lofty Hevens hurl’d

  ’Bout your inferior World?


  Are ye the Representatives

  Of other Peopl’s distant Lives?

  Of all the Play-mates which I knew

  That here I do the Image view

  In other Selvs; what can it mean?

  But that below the purling Stream

  Som unknown Joys there be

  Laid up in Store for me;

  To which I shall, when that thin Skin

  Is broken, be admitted in.

  (1910)

  RALPH KNEVET The Vote

  The Helmett now an hive for Bees becomes,

  And hilts of swords may serve for Spiders’ loomes;

  Sharp pikes may make

  Teeth for a rake;

  And the keene blade, th’arch enemy of life,

  Shall bee digraded to a pruneing knife.

  The rusticke spade

  Which first was made

  For honest agriculture, shall retake

  Its primitive imployment, and forsake

  The rampire’s steep

  And trenches deep.

  Tame conyes in our brazen gunnes shall breed,

  Or gentle Doves their young ones there shall feede.

  In musket barrells

  Mice shall raise quarrells

  For their quarters. The ventriloquious drumme

  Like Lawyers in vacations shall be dumme.

  Now all recrutes,

  (But those of fruites),

  Shall bee forgott; and th’unarm’d Soldier

  Shall onely boast of what Hee did whilere,

  In chimneys’ ends

  Among his freinds.

  If good effects shall happy signes ensue,

  I shall rejoyce, and my prediction’s true.

  (1936)

  1672

  SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT Song. Endimion Porter, and Olivia

  OLIVIA

  Before we shall again behold

  In his diurnal race the Worlds great Eye,

  We may as silent be and cold,

  As are the shades where buried Lovers ly.

  ENDIMION

  Olivia, ’tis no fault of Love

  To loose our selves in death, but O, I fear,

  When Life and Knowledge is above

  Restor’d to us, I shall not know thee there.

  OLIVIA

  Call it not Heaven (my Love) where we

  Our selves shall see, and yet each other miss:

  So much of Heaven I find in thee

  As, thou unknown, all else privation is.

  ENDIMION

  Why should we doubt, before we go

  To find the Knowledge which shall ever last,

  That we may there each other know?

  Can future Knowledge quite destroy the past?

  OLIVIA

  When at the Bowers in the Elizian shade

  I first arrive, I shall examine where

  They dwel, who love the highest Vertue made;

  For I am sure to find Endimion there.

  ENDIMION

  From this vext World when we shall both retire,

  Where all are Lovers, and where all rejoyce;

  I need not seek thee in the Heavenly Quire;

  For I shall know Olivia by her Voice.

  SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT The Philosopher and the Lover; to a Mistress Dying. Song

  LOVER

  Your Beauty, ripe, and calm, and fresh,

  As Eastern Summers are,

  Must now, forsaking Time and Flesh,

  Add light to some small Star.

  PHILOSOPHER

  Whilst she yet lives, were Stars decay’d,

  Their light by hers, relief might find:

  But Death will lead her to a shade

  Where Love is cold, and Beauty blinde.

  LOVER

  Lovers (whose Priests all Poets are)

  Think ev’ry Mistress, when she dies,

  Is chang’d at least into a Starr:

  And who dares doubt the Poets wise?

  PHILOSOPHER

  But ask not Bodies doom’d to die,

  To what abode they go;

  Since Knowledge is but sorrows Spy,

  It is not safe to know.

  1673

  JOHN MILTON

  Methought I saw my late espoused Saint

  Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,

  Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,

  Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint.

  Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint,

  Purification in the old Law did save,

  And such, as yet once more I trust to have

  Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,

  Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:

  Her face was vail’d, yet to my fancied sight,

  Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin’d

  So clear, as in no face with more delight.

  But O as to embrace me she enclin’d

  I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night.

  (written 1658)

  JOHN MILTON

  When I consider how my light is spent,

  Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

  And that one Talent which is death to hide,

  Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent

  To serve therewith my Maker, and present

  My true account, least he returning chide,

  Doth God exact day-labour, light deny’d,

  I fondly ask; But patience to prevent

  That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need

  Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best

  Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State

  Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed

  And post o’re Land and Ocean without rest:

  They also serve who only stand and waite.

  (written after 1652)

  JOHN MILTON On the Late Massacher in Piemont

  Avenge O Lord thy slaughter’d Saints, whose bones

  Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold,

  Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old

  When all our Fathers worship’t Stocks and Stones,

  Forget not: in thy book record their groanes

  Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold

  Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll’d

  Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans

  The Vales redoubl’d to the Hills, and they

  To Heav’n. Their martyr’d blood and ashes sow