Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/329

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ON MILTON'S BLINDNESS.
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Rills o'er rocky beds are borne,
Ere they gush in whiteness;
Pebbles are wave-chafed and worn,
Ere they show their brightness.

Sweetest gleam the morning flowers,
When in tears they waken;
Earth enjoys refreshing showers,
When the boughs are shaken.

Ceylon's glistening pearls are sought
In its deepest waters;
From the darkest mines are brought
Gems for Beauty's daughters.

Through the rent and shivered rock
Limpid water breaketh;
'Tis but when the chords are struck
That their music waketh.

Flowers by heedless footsteps pressed
All their sweets surrender;
Gold must brook the fiery test
Ere it show its splendour.

When the twilight, cold and damp,
Gloom and silence bringeth;
Then the glowworm lights its lamp,
And the night-bird singeth.

Stars come forth when Night her shroud
Draws as daylight fainteth;
Only on the tearful cloud
God his rainbow painteth.

Weep not then for poet's wrong,
Mourn not his mischances;
Sorrow is the source of song
And of gentle fancies.

On Milton's Blindness.
      I am old and blind!
Men point at me as smitten by God's frown;
Afflicted and deserted of my kind;
      Yet I am not cast down.