No More Learning

Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.
The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine,
The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,
The glowing Violet.
The Musk-rose, and the well attir'd Woodbine.
With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed,
Daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150
And strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies.
For so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
Ah me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas
Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurl'd
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides.
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160
Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth.

Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar,
So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore, 170
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves
Where other groves, and other streams along,
With Nectar pure his oozy Lock's he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song,
In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet Societies
That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more;
Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th'Okes and rills,
While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,
He touch'd the tender stops of various Quills,
With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay:
And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the Western bay;
At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantle blew:
To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.

Notes:
64 uncessant] Manuscript reads incessant, so that uncessant
is probably a misprint; though that spelling is retained in the Second
Edition.
82 perfet] So in Comus, line 203.
In both these places
the manuscript has perfect, as elsewhere where the word occurs. In
the Solemn Music, line 23, where the First Edition reads perfect,
the second reads perfet.
149 Amaranthus] Amarantus



Transcriber's note: Facsimile of Title page of Comus follows:

A MASKE
PRESENTED
At Ludlow Castle,
1634:

On Michalemasse night, before the
RIGHT HONORABLE,
IOHN Earle of Bridgewater, Viscount Brackly,
Lord President of WALES, and one of
His MAIESTIES most honorable
Privie Counsell.

------------------------------------------------------------
Eheu quid volui misero mihi! floribus austrum
Perditus ------------------
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LONDON
Printed for HYMPHREY ROBINSON
at the signe of the Three Pidgeons in
Pauls Church-yard. 1637.




To the Right Honourable, John Lord Vicount Bracly, Son and
Heir apparent to the Earl of Bridgewater, &c.


My LORD,

This Poem, which receiv'd its first occasion of Birth from your
Self, and others of your Noble Family, and much honour from
your own Person in the performance, now returns again to
make a finall Dedication of it self to you. Although not openly
acknowledg'd by the Author, yet it is a legitimate off-spring, so
lovely, and so much desired, that the often Copying of it hath
tired my Pen to give my several friends satisfaction, and brought
me to a necessity of producing it to the publike view; and now
to offer it up in all rightfull devotion to those fair Hopes, and
rare endowments of your much-promising Youth, which give a
full assurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live
sweet Lord to be the honour of your Name, and receive this as
your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favours
been long oblig'd to your most honour'd Parents, and as in this
representation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall
expression

Your faithfull, and most humble Servant

H. LAWES.


Note: Dedication to Vicount Bracly: Omitted in 1673.




The Copy of a Letter writt'n by Sir HENRY WOOTTON, to
the Author, upon the following Poem.


From the Colledge, this 13. of April, 1638.

SIR,
It was a special favour, when you lately bestowed upon me
here, the first taste of your acquaintance, though no longer then
to make me know that I wanted more time to value it, and to
enjoy it rightly; and in truth, if I could then have imagined your
farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterwards by
Mr.