The Book of Restoration Verse

Book First

JF

I.

The Book of

Restoration Verse

Song On May Morning

OW the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,

NOW

Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her

The Flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and wish thee long.

2.

Hymn: To Light

J. Milton

FIRST born of chaos, who so fair didst come
From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Which when it saw the lovely child,

The melancholy mass put on kind looks and smil’d.

Thou tide of glory which no rest dost know,

But ever ebb, and ever flow;

Thou golden shower of a true Jove,

Who does in thee descend, and Heav'n to earth make Love!

Hail active nature's watchful life and health!

Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!

Hail to thy husband heat, and thee!

Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom he!

Say from what golden quivers of the sky,
Do all thy wingèd arrows fly?

Swiftness and power by birth are thine:

From thy great sire they came, thy sire the word divine.

'Tis, I believe, this archery to show,

That so much cost in colours thou,
And skill in painting dost bestow,

Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow.

Swift as light thoughts their empty career run,
Thy race is finished, when begun,

Let a post-angel start with thee,

And thou the goal of earth shalt reach as soon as he:

Thou in the moon's bright chariot proud and gay,
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey;

And all the year dost with thee bring

Of thousand flow'ry lights thine own nocturnal spring.

Thou Scythian-like dost round thy lands above
The sun's gilt tent for ever move,

And still as thou in pomp dost go

The shining pageants of the world attend thy show.

Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn
The humble glow-worms to adorn,

And with those living spangles gild,
(O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the field.

Night, and her ugly subjects thou dost fright,

And sleep, the lazy owl of night;

Asham'd and fearful to appear

They screen their horrid shapes with the black hemisphere.

With them there hastes, and wildly takes the alarm,
Of painted dreams, a busy swarm,

At the first opening of thine eye,
The various clusters break, the antic atoms fly.

The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts

Creep conscious to their secret rests:

Nature to thee does reverence pay,

Ill omens, and ill sights removes out of thy way.

At thy appearance, grief itself is said,

To shake his wings, and rouse his head.
And cloudy care has often took

A gentle beamy smile reflected from thy look.