University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
3 occurrences of The gourd and the palm
[Clear Hits]
  

collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX.. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
 LXVI. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
 LXXVIII. 
 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII. 
 LXXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
 LXXXVIII. 
 LXXXIX. 
 XC. 
 XCI. 
 XCII. 
 XCIII. 
 XCIV. 
 XCV. 
 XCVI. 
 XCVII. 
 XCVIII. 
 XCIX. 
 C. 
 CI. 
 CII. 
 CIII. 
 CIV. 
 CV. 
 CVI. 
 CVII. 
 CVIII. 
 CIX. 
 CX. 
 CXI. 
 CXII. 
 CXIII. 
 CXIV. 
 CXV. 
 CXVI. 
 CXVII. 
 CXVIII. 
 CXIX. 
 CXX. 
 CXXI. 
 CXXII. 
 CXXIII. 
 CXXIV. 
 CXXV. 
 CXXVI. 
expand sectionCXXVII. 
 CXXVIII. 
 CXXIX. 
 CXXX. 
 CXXXI. 
CXXXI. MILTON IN THE PORCH.
 CXXXII. 

3 occurrences of The gourd and the palm
[Clear Hits]

175

CXXXI. MILTON IN THE PORCH.

[_]

(Milton in his old age, and after the publication of the “Paradise Lost,” was scarcely known to his contemporaries. The popular poets of the day were “the matchless Orinda” (one Mrs. Arabella Philips) and “the incomparable Cowley.” Where is their fame now? Or whose fame, except that of Shakspeare, surpasses Milton's?)

Blind, old, and poor, the bosom-friend of Sorrow,
Threefold encompassed by malicious Fortune,
I sit alone beneath th' o'er-arching roses
That shade my cottage porch,—to breathe the odours
That load the breezes of the summer morning,
And catch the earliest sunshine on my forehead.
And as I sit, I hear the great world's echoes
Come floating like the blare of distant trumpets
Sounding the names that men hold most in honour:
Names of the prosperous, the rich, the mighty,
Names of successful knaves and winning gamesters,
Names of buffoons who tickle fools to laughter:
Names of the silly bards who rhyme for pastime,
But have no strength to utter thoughts for thinkers,
Or tell the Time one truth that's worth the knowing.

176

And then I sigh, with lingering human weakness,
That I, who once, like lark to Heaven upsoaring,
Flooded the fields with music and rejoicing,
Find listeners no more, that smaller voices,
Attuned to pettier themes, find larger audience,
And that great thoughts offend a little people;—
Bards of the hour, that pile the ready guineas,
And say, “The age is ours, we teach it wisdom,
And wisdom is rewarded of its scholars.”
While I, alas! must fight with sordid sorrow,
Slave of the poverty that holds me captive,
And binds me to its mud-bespattered chariot.
Yet tell me, O my conscience! O my spirit!
And thou, my secret heart! have I not striven,
Through long, brave years of effort and endurance,
To use my gifts of song to noblest purpose,
To cheer the sad, to comfort the afflicted,
And from the good to prophesy the better?
Have I not? Wherefore ask? God knows His children,
To-day is not to-morrow; and to-morrow
Hath its own creed, and utters its own judgments.
Hush, Disappointment! raise thy head, meek Patience!
Why should I rail at what hard Fortune brings me
When I have that within which masters Fortune?
Though beggared, yet a king! mine is the Future,
My words and thoughts are shrined in Time's safe keeping,
And if they're worthy, they shall be immortal.