John Bartlett (18201905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
(continued) John Milton. (16081674) 2770
I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heavns wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bowd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
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Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
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Far from all resort of mirth Save the cricket on the hearth.
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Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
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Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Plutos cheek.
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Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold.
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Where more is meant than meets the ear.
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When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves.
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Hide me from days garish eye.
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And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
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Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof.
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