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    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas
    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas
    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas
    Ebook80 pages51 minutes

    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas

    By John Milton

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas
    Author

    John Milton

    John Milton (1608-1657) was an English poet and intellectual. Milton worked as a civil servant for the Commonwealth of England and wrote during a time of religious change and political upheaval. Having written works of great importance and having made strong political decisions, Milton was of influence both during his life and after his death. He was an innovator of language, as he would often introduce Latin words to the English canon, and used his linguistic knowledge to produce propaganda and censorship for the English Republic’s foreign correspondence. Milton is now regarded as one of the best writers of the English language, exuding unparalleled intellect and talent.

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    Reviews for L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas

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    • 5/5
      Personally, I have loved L'Allegro and Il Penseroso (especially the latter's praise of reading since I read them in high school. I also vividly recall joining in a dramatic reading of Comus with friends in graduate school. (I read the part of Comus).

    Book preview

    L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas - John Milton

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas, by John Milton

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas

    Author: John Milton

    Posting Date: July 20, 2008 [EBook #397] Release Date: January 1995

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS ***

    Produced by Edward A. Malone

    L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS, AND LYCIDAS

    By

    John Milton

    L'ALLEGRO

      HENCE, loathed Melancholy,

      …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born

      In Stygian cave forlorn

      …………'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights

      unholy!

      Find out some uncouth cell,

      …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,

      And the night-raven sings;

      …………There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,

      As ragged as thy locks,

      …………In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.

      But come, thou Goddess fair and free,

      In heaven yclept Euphrosyne,

      And by men heart-easing Mirth;

      Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,

      With two sister Graces more,

      To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore:

      Or whether (as some sager sing)

      The frolic wind that breathes the spring,

      Zephyr, with Aurora playing,

      As he met her once a-Maying,

      There, on beds of violets blue,

      And fresh-blown roses washed in dew,

      Filled her with thee, a daughter fair,

      So buxom, blithe, and debonair.

      Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee

      Jest, and youthful Jollity,

      Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,

      Nods and becks and wreathed smiles

      Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,

      And love to live in dimple sleek;

      Sport that wrinkled Care derides,

      And Laughter holding both his sides.

      Come, and trip it, as you go,

      On the light fantastic toe;

      And in thy right hand lead with thee

      The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;

      And, if I give thee honour due,

      Mirth, admit me of thy crew,

      To live with her, and live with thee,

      In unreproved pleasures free:

      To hear the lark begin his flight,

      And, singing, startle the dull night,

      From his watch-tower in the skies,

      Till the dappled dawn doth rise;

      Then to come, in spite of sorrow,

      And at my window bid good-morrow,

      Through the sweet-briar or the vine,

      Or the twisted eglantine;

      While the cock, with lively din,

      Scatters the rear of darkness thin,

      And to the stack, or the barn-door,

      Stoutly struts his dames before:

      Oft listening how the hounds and horn

      Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,

      From the side of some hoar hill,

      Through the high wood echoing shrill:

      Sometime walking, not unseen,

      By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,

      Right against the eastern gate

      Where the great Sun begins his state,

      Robed in flames and amber light,

      The clouds in thousand liveries dight;

      While the ploughman, near at hand,

      Whistles o'er the furrowed land,

      And the milkmaid singeth blithe,

      And the mower whets his scythe,

      And every shepherd tells his tale

      Under the hawthorn in the dale.

      Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,

      Whilst the landskip round it measures:

      Russet lawns, and fallows grey,

      Where the nibbling flocks do stray;

      Mountains on whose barren breast

      The labouring clouds do often rest;

      Meadows trim, with daisies pied;

      Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;

      Towers and battlements it sees

      Bosomed high in tufted trees,

      Where perhaps some beauty lies,

      The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.

      Hard by a cottage chimney smokes

      From betwixt two aged oaks,

      Where Corydon and Thyrsis met

      Are at their savoury dinner set

      Of herbs and other country messes,

      Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses;

      And then in haste her bower she leaves,

      With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;

      Or, if the earlier season lead,

      To the tanned haycock in the mead.

      Sometimes, with secure delight,

      The upland hamlets will invite,

      When the merry bells ring round,

      And the jocund rebecks sound

      To many a youth and many a maid

      Dancing in the chequered shade,

      And young and old come forth to play

      On a sunshine holiday,

      Till the livelong daylight fail:

      Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,

      With stories told of many a feat,

      How Faery Mab the junkets eat.

      She was pinched and pulled, she said;

      And he, by Friar's lantern led,

      Tells how the drudging goblin sweat

      To

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