Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy

In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes,1 or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine; 3
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskined4 stage.

But, O sad Virgin, that thy pow'r
Might raise Musæüs 5 from his bow'r !
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing

Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,

And made Hell grant what Love did seek!"
Or call up him that left half-told
The story of Cambuscan bold,?
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canacè to wife,

That owned the virtuous ring and glass;
And of the wond'rous horse of brass
On which the Tartar king did ride :
And if aught else great bards beside 8
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of turneys, and of trophies hung,
Of forests, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear!
Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career
Till civil-suited Morn appear;

Not tricked and frounced as she was wont

With the Attic boy9 to hunt,

Thebes, in Boeotia, the scene of schylus' "Seven against Thebes," Sophocles' Edipus the King" and "Antigone," and

Euripides' "Baccha."

Referring to the three tragedies (trilogy) of Æschylus on the murder of Agamemnon, a descendant of Pelops.

Referring to various episodes in the history of the Siege of Troy, treated by the Greek dramatists. See note to "L'Allegro," p. 50. A mythical Greek bard, said to have been the son of Orpheus. See "L'Allegro," p. 50.

The reference is to Chaucer's fragmentary "Squire's Tale."
As, e.g., Ariosto, Tasso, and Spenser.

Cephalus, loved by Eos (Aurora), the Dawn.

But kercheft in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Or ushered with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves,
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And, when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,

Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
There in close covert by some brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from Day's garish eye,
While the bee with honied thigh,
That at her flow'ry work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring,

With such consort as they keep,

Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep;

And let some strange mysterious Dream
Wave at his wings in aery stream
Of lively portraiture displayed,
Softly on my eye-lids laid.

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about or underneath,

Sent by some sp'rit to mortals good,
Or th' unseen Genius of the wood.

But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister's pale,
And love the high-embowèd roof,
With antic pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light:

There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced quire below,
In service high and anthems clear,

As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,

And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of ev'ry star that heav'n doth show,
And ev'ry herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.

It will be noticed as curious that in both the foregoing poems Milton's mind turns naturally to the drama-to Shakespeare and Jonson in the one case, and to the great masters of Attic tragedy in the other. That at this time he was deeply interested in dramatic literature is further attested by the fact that his next production was in dramatic form-not indeed in the form of the regular stage-play, but in that of the private representation, combining dialogue, action, music, and pageantry, which was called the Masque. In his "Arcades: Part of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of Derby by some Noble Persons of her Family," he had already tried his hand in work of this kind. But this was slight and experimental. Shortly afterward came the masterpiece which

we know by the name of "Comus "—the name given to it after Milton's death-but which was by him simply entitled "A Masque presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634, before the Earl of Bridgewater, the President of Wales."

The circumstances of its composition and production are extremely interesting. The musical tastes which Milton had inherited from his father naturally brought him into association with others who loved and practised the art. Among these was a young man named Henry Lawes, at that time already well known as an accomplished musician, and later the most famous English composer of his time. The affection between the two appears to have originated in boyhood, when, it is conjectured, Lawes may have been a visitor at the house in Bread Street, and the following sonnet, dated February 1645, shows that it remained unabated in middle life, despite the political differences which in the meanwhile had driven the friends into opposite camps.

TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song First taught our English music how to scan Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas' ears, committing short and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for Envy to look wan; To after age thou shalt be writ the man

That with smooth air couldst humour best our

tongue.

Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must lend her wing
To honour thee, the priest of Phœbus' quire,
That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story.
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee high'r
Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.1

Now Lawes was teaching music to the children of John Egerton, Earl of Bridgewater, at the time of that nobleman's appointment to the Lord Presidency of Wales and the Marches. It was in 1633 that the Earl took up his official residence at Ludlow Castle, in Shropshire; and, after the fashion of the age, it was decided to celebrate the event by private festivities on a scale of great magnificence, a chief feature of which was to be a masque. Lawes was entrusted with all the arrangements; he, of course, undertook the musical portions of the dramatic performance; he invited his friend Milton to provide the necessary framework and poetry; and the writing of "Comus" was the result.

The readiness with which he executed the task is once more signal proof of Milton's complete freedom from the narrowness and fanaticism of the Puritan zealots. Whatever its origin and early history, the masque as a dramatic type was largely the product of those Italian influences which from the time of the Renaissance onward had done so much to shape

Casella was a Florentine friend of Dante, celebrated for his skill in music. Dante meets him in the second canto of the "Purgatorio," and induces him to sing.