. Select Minor Poems of John Milton . e steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of eternity. To such my errand is; and but for such 15 I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. But to my task. Neptune,^ besides the swayOf every salt flood and each ebbing in by lot twixt high and nether Jove ^ 20 Imperial rule of all the sea-girt islesThat, Uke to rich and various gems, inlayThe unadorned bosom of the deep ;Which he, to grace his tributary course commits to several government,- 25 And gives
. Select Minor Poems of John Milton . e steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of eternity. To such my errand is; and but for such 15 I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. But to my task. Neptune,^ besides the swayOf every salt flood and each ebbing in by lot twixt high and nether Jove ^ 20 Imperial rule of all the sea-girt islesThat, Uke to rich and various gems, inlayThe unadorned bosom of the deep ;Which he, to grace his tributary course commits to several government,- 25 And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns,And wield their little tridents. But this greatest and the best of all the quarters to his blue-haired deities;And all this tract that fronts the falling sun 30 A noble peer of mickle trust and powerHas in his charge, with tempered awe to guideAn old and haughty nation, proud in arms :Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely coming to attend their fathers state 35. ■Circe, the daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cupWhoever tasted lost his upright shape,And downward fell into a grovelling swine. Comus, 50+. COMUS. 95 And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way-Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood,The nodding horror of whose shady browsThreats the forlorn and wandering passenger;And here their tender age might sufifer peril, 40 But that by quick command from sovran JoveI was dispatched for their defence and guard;And listen why, for I will tell you nowWhat never yet was heard in tale or song,From old or modern bard in hall or bower. 45 Bacchus,^ that first from out the purple grapeCrushed the sweet poison of misused wine,After the Tuscan mariners transformed,^Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,On Circes island fell. — Who knows not Circe,^ 50 The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cupWhoever tasted lost his upright downward fell into a grovelling swine ? —This nymph, th
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