 Preface to Sampson Agonistes. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen. Sampson Agonistes by John Milton. The Preface. Of that sort of dramatic poem which is called Tragedy. Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, has been ever held the gravest, moralist, and most profitable of all other poems, therefore said by Aristotle to be of power by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and such-like passions, that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure, with a kind of delight stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. For is nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion? For so in physics things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humours. Hence philosophers and other gravest writers as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate their discourse. The apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture. John Carinthians 15 verse 33, and Pareus, commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole book as a tragedy into acts distinguished each by a chorus of heavenly harpings and song between. Here to four men in highest dignity have laboured not a little to be thought able to compose a tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the Elder was no less ambitious than before of his attaining to the tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but unable to please his own judgement with what he had begun, left it unfinished. Seneca, the philosopher, is by some thought the author of those tragedies, at least the best of them that go under that name. Gregory Natsyansen, a father of the church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy which he entitled Christ's Suffering. This is mentioned to vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day with other common interludes, happening through the poet's error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons which by all judicious have been counted absurd and brought in without discretion corruptly to gratify the people. And though ancient tragedy use no prologue, yet using sometimes in case of self-defence or explanation that which Marshall calls an epistle, in behalf of this tragedy coming forth after the ancient manor, much different from what among us passes for best, thus much beforehand may be epistalled. What chorus is here introduced after the Greek manor, not ancient only, but modern and still in use among the Italians? In the modelling, therefore, of this poem, with good reason the ancients and Italians are rather followed as of much more authority and fame. The measure of verse used in the chorus is of all sorts, called by the Greeks monostrophic, or rather apolleluminon, without regard had to stroffe, antistroffe, or epot, which were a kind of stanzas framed only for the music, then used with the chorus that sung. Not essential to the poem, and therefore not material, or being divided into stanzas or pauses, they may be called alliostrofa. Division into act and scene, referring chiefly to the stage, to which this work never was intended, is here omitted. It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond the fifth act, of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the plot, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such economy or disposition of the fable, as may stand best with very similitude and decorum. They only will best judge who are not unacquainted with ischelous, soffocles, and euripides, the three tragic poets unequalled yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavour to write tragedy. The circumscription of time wherein the whole drama begins and ends is according to ancient rule and best example, within the space of twenty-four hours. The argument Samson made captive, blind, and now in the prison at Gaza, there to labour as in a common workhouse, on a festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, there to sit awhile and bemoan his condition, where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the chorus, who seek to comfort him what they can. Then by his old father Manoa, who endeavours the like, and with all tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ransom. Lastly, that this feast was proclaimed by the Philistines as a day of thanksgiving for their deliverance from the hands of Samson, which yet more troubles him. Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian lords for Samson's redemption, who in the meanwhile is visited by other persons, and lastly by a public officer to require coming to the feast before the lords and people to play or show his strength in their presence. He at first refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial to come. At length persuaded inwardly that this was from God. He yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatenings to fetch him. The chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope to procure ere long his son's deliverance. In the midst of which discourse, an Hebrew comes in haste confusedly at first, and afterward more distinctly relating the catastrophe, what Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself, wherewith the tragedy ends. The Persons Samson Manoa, the father of Samson Dalila, his wife Arafa of Gath Public officer Messenger Chorus of Danites End of The Preface Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Section 1 of Samson Agonistes This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen Samson Agonistes by John Milton Section 1 The Scene Before the Prison in Gaza Samson The Chorus A little onward lend thy guiding hand to these dark steps, a little further on. For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade, there I am won't to sit when any chance relieves me from my task of servile toil, daily in the common prison else enjoined me, where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely draw the air imprisoned also, close and damp, unwholesome draught. But here I feel immense. The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet with dayspring borne, ere leave me to respire. This day a solemn feast the people hold to dark on their sea idle, and forbid laborious works, unwillingly this rest their superstition yields me. Hencewith leave retiring from the popular noise, I seek this unfrequented place to find some ease, ease to the body some, none to the mind from restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm of hornets armed, no sooner found alone but rush upon me, thronging, and present times past, what once I was, and what am now. Oh, wherefore was my birth from heaven foretold twice by an angel, who at last in sight of both my parents, all in flames ascended from off the altar, where an offering burned, as in a fiery column charioting his godlike presence, and from some great act or benefit revealed to Abraham's race. Why was my breeding ordered and prescribed, as of a person separate to God, designed for great exploits? If I must die, betrayed, captived, and both my eyes put out, made of my enemies the scorn and gaze, to grind in brazen fetters, and a task with this heaven-gifted strength. Oh, glorious strength put to the labour of a beast, debased lower than bondslave! Promise was that I should Israel from Philistine yoke deliver. Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves, himself in bonds, under Philistine yoke. Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt divine prediction, what if all foretold had been fulfilled, but through my own default, whom have I to complain of but myself? Who this high gift of strength committed to me, in what part lodged, how easily bereft me, under the seal of silence, could not keep, but weakly to a woman must reveal it, or come with importunity and tears. Oh, impotence of mind, in body strong! But what is strength without a double share of wisdom, vast, unwieldy, burdensome, proudly secure, yet liable to fall by weakest subtleties, not made to rule, but to subserve where wisdom bears command? God, when he gave me strength to show with all how slight the gift was, hung it in my hair! But peace, I must not quarrel with the will of highest dispensation, which herein happily had end above my reach to know, suffices that to me strength is my bane, and proves the source of all my miseries, so many and so huge that each apart would ask a life to wail, but chief of all, oh, loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, oh, worse than chains, dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age, light, the prime work of God to me is extinct, and all her various objects of delight annulled, which might in part my grief have eased, inferior to the vilest now become of man or worm. The vilest here excel me, they creep, yet see, eye dark, in light, exposed to daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong, with indoors or without, still as a fool, in power of others, never in my own. This half I seem to live dead more than half, oh, dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, irrecoverably dark, total eclipse, without all hope of day. Oh, first created beam, and thou great word, let there be light, and light was over all. Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree? The sun to me is dark, and silent is the moon, when she deserts the night, hid in her vacant interluna cave, since light so necessary is to life, and almost life itself, if it be true that light is in the soul. She all in every part, why was the sight to such a tender ball as the eye confined, so obvious and so easy to be quenched, and not as feeling, through all parts, diffused, that she might look at will through every paw. Then had I not been thus exiled from light, as in the land of darkness, yet in light, to live a life half dead, a living death, and buried, but a yet more miserable, myself, my sepulcher, a moving grave, buried, yet not exempt by privilege of death and burial from worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, but made here by obnoxious more to all the miseries of life, life in captivity among inhuman foes. But who are these, for with joint pace I hear the tread of many feet steering this way? Perhaps my enemies who come to stare at my affliction, and perhaps to insult their daily practice to afflict me more. This, this is he, softly a while, let us not break in upon him. Oh, change beyond report, thought or belief! See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, with languished head unpropped, as one passed hope, abandoned, and by himself given over. In slavish habit ill-fitted weeds, all worn and soiled. How do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he, that heroic, that renowned, irresistible Samson, whom unarmed, no strength of man or fiercest wild beast could withstand, who tore the lion as the lion tears the kid, ran on embattled armies clad in iron, and weaponless himself made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, colibion tempered steel, and frock of mail adamantian proof. But safest he who stood aloof, when insupportably his foot advanced, in scorn of their proud arms and war-like tools, spun them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite fled from his lion-ramp, old warriors turned their plated backs under his heel, or groveling soiled their crested helmets in the dust. Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, the jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, a thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, in Ramathleche, famous to this day. Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore the gates of Azar, post, and massy bar, up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, no journey of a sabbath day, and loaded so, like whom the Gentiles feigned to bear up heaven. Which shall I first bewail, thy bondage, or lost sight, prison within prison, inseparably dark? Thou art become, o' worst imprisonment, the dungeon of thyself, thy soul, which men enjoying sight, oft without cause, complain, imprisoned now indeed, in real darkness of the body dwells, shut up from outward light to incorporate with gloomy night. For inward light, alas, puts forth no visual beam. O mirror of our fickle state, since man on earth unparalleled, the rarer thy example stands, by how much from the top of wondrous glory, strongest of mortal men, to lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen. For him I reckon not in high estate, whom long descent of birth, or the sphere of fortune raises. But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate, might have subdued the earth, universally crowned with highest praises. I hear the sound of words, their sense the air dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. He speaks, let us draw nigh. Matchless in might, the glory late of Israel, now the grief. We come thy friends and neighbours, not unknown from Estal and Zora's fruitful veil, to visit or bewail thee, or, if better, counsel or consolation we may bring, salve to thy source, apt words have power to swage the tumours of a troubled mind, and are as balm to festered wounds. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Samson Agonistes by John Milton. Section 2 Samson, the chorus. Your coming, friends, revives me, for I learn now of my own experience, not by talk, how counterfeit a coin they are, who friends bear in their superscription, of the most I would be understood. In prosperous days they swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head not to be found, those sort. We see, oh friends, how many evils have enclosed me round, yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me. Blindness! For had I sight confused with shame, how could I once look up, or heave the head, who like a foolish pilot have shipwrecked my vessel, trusted to me from above, gloriously rigged, and for a word a tearful have divulged the secret gift of God to a deceitful woman. Tell me, friends, am I not sung and proverbed for a fool in every street? Do they not say how well I'll come upon him his desserts? Yet why, immeasurable strength they might be hold in me, of wisdom nothing more than mean. This with the other should at least have paired. These two proportioned ill drove me transverse. Tax not divine disposal, wisest men have erred, and by bad women been deceived, and shall again pretend they know so wise. Deject not then so overmuch thyself, who hast of sorrow thy full load besides. Yet truth to say I have oft heard men wonder why thou shouldst wed Philistian women, rather than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair, at least of thy own nation, and as noble. The first I saw at Timna, and she pleased me, not my parents, that I sought to wed the daughter of an infidel. They knew not that what I motioned was of God. I knew from intimate impulse, and therefore urged the marriage on, that by occasion hence I might begin Israel's deliverance, the work to which I was divinely called. She proving false, the next I took to wife, that I never had, fond wish too late, was in the veil of Sarek, Dalila, that specious monster, my accomplished snare. I thought it lawful from my former act, and the same end, still watching to oppress Israel's oppressors. Of what now I suffer, she was not the prime cause, but I myself, who vanquished with a peal of words, oh weakness, gave up my thought of silence to a woman. In seeking just occasion to provoke the Philistine, thy country's enemy, thou never wast remiss, I hear thee witness, yet Israel still serves with all his sons. At fault I take not on me, but transfer on Israel's governess, and heads of tribes, who seeing those great acts which God had done singly by me against their conquerors acknowledged not, or not at all considered deliverance offered. I, on the other side, used no ambition to commend my deeds. The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer. But they persisted deaf, and would not seem to count them things worth notice, till at length their lords the Philistines with gathered powers entered Judea seeking me, who then safe to the rock of Ethan was retired, not flying, but forecasting in what place to set upon them what advantaged best. Meanwhile the men of Judah, to prevent the harras of their land, beset me round. I willingly, on some conditions, came into their hands, and they as gladly yield me to the uncircumcised of welcome prey, bound with two cords. But cords to me were threads touched with the flame. On their whole host I flew unarmed, and with a trivial weapon felled their choicest youth. They only lived who fled. Had Judah that day joined, or won the whole tribe, they had by this possessed the towers of Gath, and lorded over them whom now they serve. But what more often nations grown corrupt, and by their vices brought to servitude, and to love bondage more than liberty, bondage with ease than strenuous liberty, and to despise or envy or suspect whom God hath of his special favour raised as their deliverer. If he ought begin, how frequent to desert him, and at last to heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds. Thy words to my remembrance bring, how succothed and the thought of penuel, their great deliverer contempt, the matchless Gideon in pursuit of Madyan and her vanquished kings, and how ingrateful Ephraim not worse than by his shield and spear had dealt with Jephthah, who by argument defended Israel from the Ammonite, had not his prowess quelled their pride in that sore battle when so many died without reprieve adjudged to death for want of well pronouncing chiboleth. Oh, such examples add me to the role. Me easily indeed mine may neglect, but God's proposed deliverance not so. Just are the ways of God and justifiable to men, unless there be who think not God at all, if any be they walk obscure, for of such doctrine never was their school but the heart of the fool, and no man there in doctor but himself. Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just, as to his own edicts found contradicting, than give the reins to wandering thought, regardless of his glory's diminution. Till by their own perplexities involved they ravel more, still less resolved, but never find self-satisfying solution, as if they would confine the interminable and tie him to his own prescript, who made our laws to bind us, not himself, and hath full right to exempt whom so it pleases him by choice, from national obstriction, without taint of sin or legal debt. For with his own laws he can best dispense. He would not else, who never wanted means, nor in respect of the enemy just cause to set his people free, have prompted this heroic Nazarite against his vow of strictest purity, to seek in marriage that fallacious bride, unclean, unchaste. Down reason then, at least vain reasonings down, though reason here a ver that moral ver did quits her of unclean. Unchaste was subsequent, her stain not his. But see, here comes thy reverent sire with careful steps, locks whiter's down, old manoa. Advise forthwith how thou oughtest to receive him. I, me, another inward grief awaked, with mention of that name renews the assault. End of Section 2. Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey. Section 3 of Samson Agonistith. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson. Samson Agonistith by John Milton. Section 3. Manoa. Chorus. Samson. Brethren and men of Dunn, for such ye seem, though in this uncouth place. If old respect, as I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, my son now captive, hither hath informed your younger feet, while mine, cast back with age, came lagging after, say if he be here. As signal now in low dejected state, as arsed in highest, behold him where he lies. Oh, miserable change! Is this the man, that invincible Samson, far renowned, the dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength equivalent to angels, walked their streets, none offering fight? Oh, single combatant, dueled their armies, ranked in proud array, himself an army. Now unequal match, to save himself against a coward, armed at one spear's length. Oh, ever-failing trust in mortal strength, and oh, what not, in man deceivable and vain. Nay, what thing good prayed for, but often proves our woe, our bane. I prayed for children, and thought barrenness in wedlock reproach. I gained a son, and such a son as all men hailed me happy, who would be now a father in my stead. Oh, wherefore did God grant me my request, and as a blessing with such pomp adorned? Why are His gifts desirable to tempt our earnest prayers, then, given with solemn hand as graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind? For this did the angel twice descend. For this ordained thy nurture, holy as of a plant, select and sacred, glorious for a while, the miracle of men. Then in an hour ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led, bound, thy foes derision, captive, poor, and blind, into a dungeon thrust to work with slaves. Alas, me thinks, whom God hath chosen once to worthy a deed. If he through frailty are, he should not so or well, and as a thrall subject him to so foul indignities, be it but for honour's sake of former deeds. A point not heavenly disposition, Father. Nothing of all these evils hath be fallen me, but justly I myself hath brought them on, sole author, I sole cause. If ought seem vile, as vile hath been my folly, who hath profaned the mystery of God, given me under pledge of vow, and hath betrayed it to a woman, a canonite, my faithless enemy. This well I knew, nor was at all surprised, but warned by oft experience, did not she of Timnir fast betray me, and reveal the secret rested from me in her height of nuctial love professed, carrying it straight to them who had corrupted her, my spies and rivals. In this other was there found more faith, who also in her prime of love, spousal embraces, viscated with gold, though offered only, by the scent conceived her spurious first-born treason against me. Thrice she essayed with flattering prayers and sighs, and amorous reproaches to win from me my capital secret, in what part my strength lay stored, in what part summed that she might know. Thrice I deluded her, and turned to sport her importunity, each time perceiving how openly, and with what impudence she purposed to betray me, and which was worse than undissembled hate, with what contempt she sought to make me traitor to myself. Yet the fourth time, when mustering all her wiles, with blundished parlies, feminine assaults, tongue-batteries she surceased not day nor night to storm me overwatched, and wearied out. At times when men seek most repose and rest, I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart, who with a grain of manhood well resolved, might easily have shook off all her snares. But foul effeminacy held me yoked her bond-slave. Oh, indignity! Oh, blot to honour and religion! Servile mind rewarded well with servile punishment! The base degree to which I now am fallen, these rags, this grinding, is not yet so base as was my former servitude, ignoble, unmanly, ignominious, infamous, true slavery, and that blindness worse than this that saw not how degenerately I served. I cannot praise thy marriage choices, son, rather approved them not, but thou didst plead divine impulsion, prompting how thou mightst find some occasion to infest our foes. I state not that. This, I am sure, our foes found soon occasion thereby to make thee their captive and their triumph. Thou, the sooner temptation foundst, or over potent charms, to violate the sacred trust of silence deposited within thee, which to have kept tacit was in thy power true, and thou hearst enough, and more the burden of that fault. Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying that rigid score. A worse thing yet remains. This day the Philistines a popular feast here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim great pomp and sacrifice and praises loud to Dagon, as their God who hath delivered thee, Samson, bound and blind into their hands, them out of thine who sluiced their many a slain. So Dagon shall be magnified, and God, besides whom is no God, compared with idols, dis glorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn by the idolatrous rout amidst their wine, which to have come to pass by means of thee, Samson, of all thy sufferings, think the heaviest, of all reproach, the most with shame, that ever could have befallen thee and thy father's house. Father, I do acknowledge and confess that I this honour, I this pomp have brought to Dagon, and advanced his praises high among the heathen round, to God have brought dishonour, obliquy, and oaked the mouths of idolists and atheists, have brought scandal to Israel, diffidence of God, and doubt in feeble hearts, propense enough before to waver or fall off and join with idols, which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow, the anguish of my soul that suffers not my eye to harbour sleep or thoughts to rest. This only hope relieves me, that the strife with me hath end. All the contest is now tweaked God and Dagon. Dagon hath presumed me overthrown to enter lists with God, his deity comparing and preferring before the God of Abraham. He he sure will not connive or linger thus provoked, but will arise and his great name assert. Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive such a discomfort, as shall quite despoil him of all these boasted trophies one on me, and with confusion blank his worshippers. With cause this hope relieves thee, and these words I as a prophecy receive, for God nothing more certain will not long defer to vindicate the glory of his name against all competition, nor will long endure it doubtful whether God be Lord or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done, thou must not in the meanwhile hear for God lie in this miserable loathsome plight neglected. I already have made way to some Philistian lords, with whom to treat about thy ransom. Well they may by this have satisfied their utmost of revenge, by pains and slaveries worse than death inflicted on thee, who now no more canst do them harm. Spare that proposal, Father, spare the trouble of that solicitation. Let me hear, as I deserve, pay on my punishment, and expiate, if possible, my crime. Shameful garulity! To have revealed secrets of men, the secrets of a friend, how heinous had the fact been, how deserving contempt, and scorn of all, to be excluded all friendship, and avoided as a blab, the mark of fool set on his front. But I, God's counsel, have not kept. His holy secret presumptuously have published, impiously, weekly at least, and shamefully, a sin that gentiles in their parables condemn to their abyss, and horrid pains confined. End of Section 3 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey. Section 4 of Sampson Agonistes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson. Sampson Agonistes by John Milton. Section 4 Manoa Sampson Chorus Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite, but act not in thy own affliction, son. Repent the sin, but if the punishment thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids, or the execution leave to high disposal, and let another hand not thine exact thy penal forfeit from thyself. Perhaps God will relent, and quit thee all his debt, who ever more approves and more accepts, best pleased with humble and filial submission, him who imploring mercy sues for life, than whose self-rigorous chooses death as due, which argues over just, and self-displeased for self-offence, more than for God offended. Reject not, then, what offered means, who knows but God hath set before us, to return the home to thy country, and his sacred house, where thou mayst bring thy offerings, to avert his further ire with prayers and vows renewed. His pardon I implore, but as for life, to what end should I seek it, when in strength all mortals I excelled, and great in hopes, with youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts of birth from heaven foretold, and high exploits, full of divine instinct, after some proof of acts indeed heroic, far beyond the sons of Anak, famous now and blazed, fearless of danger, like a petty God I walked about admired of all, and dreaded on hostile ground, none daring my affront. Then, swollen with pride, into the snare I fell of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains softened with pleasure and voluptuous life, at length to lay my head, and hallowed pleasure of all my strength, in the lascivious lap of a deceitful concubine, who sure me like a tame weather, all my precious fleece, then turned me out ridiculous, despoiled, shaven, and disarmed among my enemies. Desire of wine, and all delicious drinks, which many a famous warrior overturns, thou couldst repress, nor did the dancing ruby sparkling, outpowered the flavour or the smell, or taste that cheers the hearts of gods and men, allure thee from the cool crystalline stream. Wherever fountain or fresh current flowed against the eastern ray, translucent, pure, with touch ethereal of heaven's fiery rod I drank, from the clear milky juice a-laying thirst, and refreshed, nor envied them the grape whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. O madness to think use of strongest wines, and strongest drinks, our chief support of health, when God, with these forbidden, made choice to rear his mighty champion, strong above compare, whose drink was only from the liquid brook. But what availed this temperance, not complete against another object more enticing? What boots it at one gate to make defence, and at another to let in the foe effeminately vanquished? By which means now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonoured, quelled, to what can I be useful, wherein serve my nation, and the work from heaven imposed, but to sit idle on the household hearth, a burdenous drone. To visitants a gaze or pitied object, these redundant locks robustius to no purpose clustering down vain monument of strength, till length of years, and sedentary numbness craze my limbs to a contemptible old age obscure. Here, rather, let me drudge and earn my bread, till vermin, or the draught of servile food, consume me, and oft invocated death hasten the welcome end of all my pains. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift, which was expressly given thee to annoy them? Better at home lie bed rid, not only idle, inglorious, unemployed, with age outworn. But God who caused a fountain at thy prayer, from the dry ground to spring, by thirst to a lay after the brunt of battle, can as easy cause light again within thy eyes to spring, wherewith to serve him better than thou hast? And I persuade me so. Why else this strength miraculous, yet remaining in those locks? His might continues in thee, not for naught, nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrated thus. All otherwise to me my thoughts pretend, that these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, nor the other light of life continue long, but yield to double darkness nigh at hand. So much I feel my genial spirit's droop, my hope's all flat, nature within me seems in all her functions weary of herself, my race of glory run and race of shame, and I shall shortly be with them that rest. Believe not these suggestions, which proceed from anguish of the mind and humour's black, that mingle with thy fancy. I, however, must not omit a father's timely care to prosecute to prosecute the means of thy deliverance by ransom or how else. Meanwhile, be calm, and healing words from these thy friends admit. Oh, that torment should not be confined to the body's wounds and sores, with maladies innumerable in heart, head, breast, and reins, but must secret passage find to the innmost mind. There exercise all his fierce accidents, and on her purest spirits pray, as on entrails, joints, and limbs, with answerable pains, but more intense, though void of corporal sense. My griefs not only pain me as a lingering disease, but finding no redress, ferment, and rage, nor less than wounds, immedicable rankle, and fester, and gangrene, to black mortification. Thoughts, my tormentus, armed with deadly stings, mangle my apprehensive, tenderest parts, exasperate, exulsorate, and raise dire inflammation, which no cooling herb or medicinal liquor can assuage, nor breath of vernal air from snowy alp. Sleep hath forsook, and give me awe to death's benumbing opium as my only cure. Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, and sense of heaven's desertion. I was his nursling once, and choice delight, his destined from the womb, promised by heavenly message, twice descending. Under his special eye, abstemious, I grew up, and thrived amain. He led me on to mightiest deets, above the nerve of mortal arm against the uncircumcised our enemies. But now hath cast me off as never known, and to those cruel enemies whom I, by his appointment, had provoked, left me all helpless with the irreparable loss of sight, reserved alive to be repeated the subject of their cruelty or scorn. Nor am I in the list of them that hope. Hopeless are all my evils, all remedy-less. This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, no long petition, speedy death, the clothes of all my miseries, and the balm. Many are the sayings of the wise, in ancient and in modern books enrolled, extolling patience as the truest fortitude, and to the bearing well of all calamities, all chances incident to man's frail life, consolidaries writ with studied argument, and much persuasion sought lenient of grief and anxious thought. But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound little prevails, or rather seems a tune, harsh and of dissonant mood from his complaint, unless he feel within some source of consolation from above, secret refreshings that repair his strength and fainting spirits uphold. God of our fathers, what is man, that thou towards him with hand so various, or might I say contrarious, temperest thy providence through his short course, not evenly, as thou rules'd the angelic orders and inferior creatures mute, irrational and brute. Nor do I name of men the common route that wandering loose about grow up and perish as the summer fly, hence without name no more remembered, but such as thou hast solemnly elected, with gifts and graces eminently adorned to some great work, thy glory and people's safety which in part they effect. Yet toward these thus dignified thou oft amidst their height of noon, changest thy countenance and thy hand with no regard of highest favours passed from thee on them, or them to thee of service. Nor only dost degrade them, or remit to life obscured which were a fair dismission, but thro'st them lower than thou didst exhort them high, unseemly falls in human eye, too grievous for the trespass or omission, oft leaves them to the hostile sword of heathen and profane, their carcasses to dogs and fowls a prey, or else captive'd, or to the unjust tribunals and a change of times and condemnation of the ingratful multitude. If these they escape, perhaps in poverty with sickness and disease thou boast them down, painful diseases, and deformed in crude old age. Though not disordinent, yet causeless suffering the punishment of dissolute days in fine, just or unjust alike seem miserable, for oft alike both come to evil end. So deal not with this once thy glorious champion, the image of thy strength and mighty minister. What do I beg? How hast thou dealt already? Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn his labours for thou canst to peaceful end. But who is this odd thing of sea or land? Female of sex it seems, that so bedecked or innate and gay comes this way sailing like a stately ship of Tarsus, bound for the aisles of Jarvan or Gadir, with all her bravery on and tackle trim, sails filled and streamers waving, courted by all the winds that hold them play, an amber scent of odorous perfume her harbinger, a damsel train behind, some rich Philistian matron she may seem, and now at nearer view, no other certain than Dalila, thy wife. My wife, my traitress, let her not come near me. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes thee fixed about to have spoke, but now, with head declined like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps and words addressed seem into tears dissolved, wetting the borders of her silken veil. But now again she makes a dress to speak. End of section four. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelnia Surrey. Section five of Samson Agonistes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Samson Agonistes by John Milton. Section five. Dalila. Samson. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, which to have merited without excuse I cannot but acknowledge. Yet if tears may expiate, though the fact more evil drew in the perverse event than I foresaw, my penance hath not slackened, though my pardon no way assured. But conjugal affection, prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, hath led me on desirous to behold once more thy face, and know of thy estate. If ought in my ability may serve to lighten what thou sufferest, and appease thy mind with what amends is in my power, though late, yet in some part to recompense my rash, but more unfortunate misdeed. Out, out Hyena, these are thy won'ted arts, and arts of every woman false like thee. To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray, then as repentant to submit, beseech, and reconcilment move with feigned remorse, confess, and promise wonders in her change, not truly penitent, but chief to try her husband, how far urged his patience bears, his virtue or weakness which way to assail, then with more cautious and instructed skill again transgresses, and again submits, that wisest and best men full oft be guiled with goodness, principles not to reject the penitent, but ever to forgive, are drawn to wear out miserable days, entangled with a poisonous bosom snake, if not by quick destruction cut off as I by thee, to ages an example. Yet hear me, Samson, not that I endeavour to lessen or extenuate my offence, but that on the other side, if it be weighed by itself, with aggravations not surcharged, or else with just allowance counterpoised, I may, if possible, thy pardon find the easier towards me, or thy hatred less. First, granting as I do, it was a weakness in me, but incident to all our sex, curiosity, inquisitive, importune of secrets, then with like infirmity to publish them, both common female faults. Was it not weakness also to make known for importunity, that is for naught, wherein consisted all thy strength and safety, to what I did thou showedst me first the way, but I to enemies revealed, and should not, nor shouldst thou have trusted that to woman's frailty, ere I to thee, thou to thy self-waste cruel. Let weakness, then, with weakness come to pearl, so near-related, or the same of kind, thine forgive mine, that men may censure thine the gentler, if severely thou exact not more strength from me than in thyself was found. And what if love, which thou interprets'd hate, the jealousy of love, powerful of sway in human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee, caused what I did? I saw thee mutable of fancy, feared lest one day thou wouldst leave me, as her at Timna, sought by all means, therefore, how to endear, and hold thee to me, firmest. No better way I saw than by importuning to learn thy secrets, get into my power the key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say, why then revealed? I was assured by those who tempted me that nothing was designed against thee but safe custody and hold. That made for me I knew that liberty would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises, while I at home sate full of cares and fears, wailing thy absence in my widowed bed. Here I should still enjoy thee day and night, mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines, whole to myself, unhazarded abroad, fearless at home of partners in my love. These reasons in love's law have passed for good, though fond and reasonless to some, perhaps, and love hath oft, well-meaning, wrought much woe. Yet always pity or pardon hath obtained. Be not unlike all others, not austere as thou art strong, inflexible as steel. If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, in uncompassionate anger do not so. Sorry. Section 6 of Samson Agonistes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Samson Agonistes by John Milton. Section 6. Samson Dalila. How cunningly the sorceress displays her own transgressions to upbraid me mine, that malice not repentance brought thee hither by this appears. I gave thou sayest the example, I led the way. Bitter reproach, but true. I to myself was false, ere thou to me. Such pardon, therefore, as I give my folly, take to thy wicked deed. Which when thou sayest impartial, self-severe, inexorable, thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather confess it feigned. Weakness is thy excuse, and I believe it, weakness to resist Philistian gold. If weakness may excuse, what murderer, what traitor, paliside, incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it. All wickedness is weakness. That plea, therefore, with God or man, will gain thee no remission. But love constrained thee. Call it furious rage to satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love. My love, how couldst thou hope, who tookst the way to raise in me inexpeable hate, knowing as needs I must by thee betrayed. In vain thou strivest to cover shame with shame, or by evasions thy crime uncoversed more. Since thou determinedst weakness for no plea in man or woman, though to thy own condemning, hear what assaults I had, what snares besides, what sieges girth me round ere I consented, which might have awed the best resolved of men, the constantest to have yielded without blame. It was not gold as to my charge thou laest that wrought with me. Thou knowest the magistrates and princes of my country came in person, solicited, commanded, threatened, urged, addued by all the bonds of civil duty and of religion, pressed how just it was, how honourable, how glorious to entrap a common enemy, who had destroyed such numbers of our nation. And the priest was not behind, but ever at my ear, preaching how meritorious with the gods it would be to ensnare an irreligious dishonourer of dark on. What had I to oppose against such powerful arguments? Only my love of thee held long debate, and combatted in silence all these reasons with hard contest. At length that grounded maxim, so rife and celebrated in the mouths of wisest men, that to the public good private respects must yield. With grave authority took full possession of me, and prevailed virtue as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining. I thought where all thy circling wiles would end, in feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy. But had thy love still odiously pretended, been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. I, before all the daughters of my tribe, and of my nation, chose thee from among my enemies, loved thee, as too well thou newest, too well, unbuzzomed all my secrets to thee, not out of levity, but overpowered by thy request, who could deny thee nothing. Yet now am judged an enemy. Why then did thou at first receive me for thy husband? Then, as since then, thy country's foe professed. Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave parents and country. Nor was I their subject, nor under their protection, but my own, thou mine, not theirs. If ought against my life thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, against the law of nature, law of nations, no more thy country, but an impious crew of men conspiring to uphold their state by worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends for which our country is a name so dear, not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee, to please thy gods thou didst it. Gods unable to acquit themselves and prosecute their foes, but by ungodly deeds. The contradiction of their own deity, gods cannot be. Lest therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared, these false pretexts and varnished colors failing, bear in thy guilt how foul must thou appear. In argument with men a woman ever goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath, witness when I was worried with thy peals. I was a fool to rash and quite mistaken in what I thought would have succeeded best. Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Sampson. Afford me place to show what recompense towards thee I intend for what I have misdone, misguided. Only what remains past cure bear not too sensibly, nor still insist to afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost, life yet hath many solaces, enjoyed where other senses want not their delights, at home in leisure and domestic ease, exempt from many a care and chance to which eyesight exposes daily men abroad. I to the lords will intercede, not doubting their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee from forth this loathsome prison-house to abide with me, where my redoubled love and care with nursing diligence to me glad office may ever tend about thee to old age, with all things grateful cheered, and so supplied that what by me thou hast lost, thou least shalt miss. No, no, of my condition take no care. It fit not. Thou and I long since our twain, nor think me so unwary or accursed to bring my feet again into the snare where once I have been caught. I know thy trains, though dearly to my cost, thy gins and toils, thy fair enchanted cup and warbling charms no more on me have power. Their force is nulled. So much of adder's wisdom I have learnt to fence my ear against thy sorceries. If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men loved, honoured, feared me, thou alone could hate me, thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me, how wouldst thou use me now, blind, and thereby deceivable? In most things as a child helpless, dense, easily contempt, and scorned, and last neglected. How wouldst thou insult when I must live, auxorious to thy will, in perfect thralldom? How again betray me, bearing my words and doings to the lords to gloss upon, and censuring, frown or smile? This jail I count the house of liberty to thine whose doors my feet shall never enter. Let me approach at least and touch thy hand, not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake my sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint. At distance I forgive thee. Go with that. Be wail thy falsehood, and the pious works it hath brought forth to make thee memorable among illustrious women, faithful wives. Cherish thy haste and widowhood with the gold of matrimonial treason. So fare well. I see thou art implacable, more deaf to prayers than winds and seas. Yet winds to seas are reconciled at length, and sea to shore. Thy anger unappeasable still rages, eternal tempest never to be calmed. Why do I humble thus myself, and suing for peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate? Bid go with evil omen, and the brand of infamy upon my name denounced. To mix with thy concernments I desist henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed, and with contrarie blast proclaims most deeds. On both his wings, one black, the other white, bears greatest names in his wild, airy flight. My name, perhaps among the circumcised in Dan, in Tudor, and the bordering tribes, to all posterity, may stand defamed, with malediction mentioned, and the blot of falsehood most unconjugal traduced. But in my country, where I most desire, in Ekron, Gaza, Ashtod, and in Ghaz, I shall be named among the famousst of women, sung at solemn festivals, living and dead recorded, who to save her country from a fierce destroyer, chose above the faith of wedlock bands, my tomb with odours visited, and annual flowers. Not less renowned than in Mount Ephraim, Ja'el, who with inhospitable guile, smote Cicera sleeping through the temples nailed. Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy the public marks of honour, and reward conferred upon me, for the piety which to my country I was judged to have shown. At this, whoever envies or repines, I leave him to his lot, and like my own. Recording by Martin Giesen Samson Agonistes by John Milton Section 7 Chorus Samson Harafa, she's gone, a manifest serpent by her sting, discovered in the end, till now concealed. So let her go, God sent her to debase me, and aggravate my folly, who committed to such a viper his most sacred trust of secrecy, my safety and my life. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, after offence returning to regain love once possessed, nor can be easily repulsed, without much inward passion felt, and secret sting of amorous remorse. Love quarrels often pleasing concord end, not wedlock treachery endangering life. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit that woman's love can win or long inherit. But what it is, heart is to say, harder to hit, which way soever men refer it. Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day or seven, though one should musing sit. If any of these, or all, the Timnian bride had not so soon preferred thy parrot-nymph, worthless to thee compared, successor in thy bed, nor both so loosely disolide their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. Is it for that such outward ornament was lavished on their sex, that inward gifts were left for haste unfinished, judgment scant, capacity not raised to apprehend or value what is best in choice, but oftest to affect the wrong, or was too much of self-love mixed, of constancy no root in fixed, that either they love nothing or not long. What ere it be, two wisest men and best, seeming at first all heavenly and a virgin veil, soft, modest, meek, demure, once joined, the contrary, she proves, a thorn in testine, far within defensive arms, a cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue, adverse and turbulent, or by her charms draws him awry, enslaved with dotage, and his sense depraved to folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends. What pilot so expert, but needs must wreck, embarked with such a steersmate at the helm, favoured of heaven who finds one virtuous, rarely found that in domestic good combines. Happy that house, his way to peace is smooth, but virtue which breaks through all opposition, and all temptation can remove, most shines, and most is acceptable above. Therefore God's universal law gave to the man despotic power over his female in due awe, nor from that right to part an hour, smile she or lower, so shall he least confusion draw on his whole life, not swayed by female usurpation, nor dismayed. But had we best retire, I see a storm. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain, but this another kind of tempest brings. Be less abstruse, my riddling days are past. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor fear the bait of honeyed words. A rougher tongue draws hither wood. I know him by his stride, the giant rougher of gath, his look haughty as is his pile, high-built and proud. Comes he in peace? What wind hath blown him hither, I less conjecture, than when first I saw the sumptuous Dalila floating this way. His habit carries peace, his brow defiance, or peace or not alike to me he comes. His fraught we soon shall know he now arrives. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance, as these perhaps, yet wish it had not been, though for no friendly intent. I am of gath. Men call me Harathah, of stock renowned as Og or Anak, and the Amim's old that Kiryat Haim held. Thou knowest me now, if thou at all art known. Much I have heard of thy prodigious might, and feats performed incredible to me. In this displeased that I was never present on the place of these encounters, where we might have tried each other's force in camp or listed field. And now am come to see of whom such noise hath walked about, and each live to survey, if thy appearance answer loud report. The way to know were not to see but taste. Ha! dust thou already single me? I thought jives, and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune had brought me to the field where thou art famed to have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw. I should have forced thee soon with other arms, or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown. So had the glory of prowess been recovered to Palestine, won by a Philistine from the unforskinned race of whom thou best the highest name for valiant acts. That honour certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. Post not of what thou wouldst have done, but do what then thou wouldst, thou sees it in thy hand. To combat with a blind man I disdain, and thou hast need much washing to be touched. Such usage as your honourable lords afford me, assassinated and betrayed, who dost not with their whole united powers in fight with stand me single and unarmed, nor in the house with chamber ambushes, close bandied dust attack me. No, not sleeping, till they had hired a woman with their gold, breaking her marriage faith to circumvent me. Therefore, without feigned shifts, let be assigned some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give thee, or rather flight, no great advantage on me. Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet and brigandine of brass, thy broad harbourgion, mourn't brass and grieves and gauntlet, add thy spear a weaver's beam, and seven times folded shield. I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, and raise such outcries on thy clattered iron, which long shall not withhold me from thy head, that in a little time, while breath remains thee, thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath to boast again in safety what thou wouldst have done to Samson, but shalt never see Gath more. Thou dost not thus disparage glorious arms, which greatest heroes have in battle worn, their ornament and safety, had not spells and black enchantments, some magicians art armed thee, or charmed thee strong, which thou from heaven faintst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair, where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs were bristles ranged like those that ridged the back of chafed wild boars, or ruffled porcupines. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts. My trust is in the living God who gave me at my nativity this strength, diffused no less through all my sinews, joints, and bones than thine, while I preserved these locks unshawn, the pledge of my unviolated vow. For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy God, go to his temple, invocate his aid with solemnness to devotion, spread before him how highly it concerns his glory, now to frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, which I, to be the power of Israel's God, avow, and challenge Dagon to the test, offering to combat thee his champion bold, with the utmost of his God-head seconded. Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine. Presume not on thy God, what ere he be, thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off quite from his people, and delivered up into thy enemy's hand, permitted them to put out both thine eyes, and fettered sent thee into the common prison, there to grind among the slaves and asses thy comrades, as good for nothing else, no better service with those thy boisterous locks, no worthy match for valour to assail, nor by the sword of noble warrior, so to stay in his honour, but by the barber's razor best subdued. All these indignities, for such they are from thine, these evils I deserve and more, acknowledge them from God inflicted on me justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, whose ear is ever open, and his eye gracious to readmit the suppliant, in confidence whereof I once again defy thee to the trial of mortal fight, by combat to decide whose God is God, thine or whom I with Israel's sons adore. Fair honour that thou dost thy God, entrusting he will accept thee to defend his cause, a murderer, a revolter, and a robber. Tongue-doubty giant, how dost thou prove me these? Is not thy nation's subject to our lords? Their magistrates confessed it when they took thee as a league-breaker, and delivered bound into our hands. For had thou not committed notorious murder on those thirty men at Ascalon, who never did thee harm, then like a robber stitched them off their robes. The Philistines, when thou had broke the league, went up with armed powers, thee only seeking, to others did no violence nor spoil. Among the daughters of the Philistines I chose a wife, which argued me no foe, and in your city held my nuptial feast. But your ill-meaning politician lords, under pretense of bride all friends and guests, appointed to await me thirty spies, who threatened in cruel death, constrained the bride to ring from me and tell to them my secret, that solved the riddle which I had proposed. When I perceived all set on enmity, as on my enemies were ever chanced, I used hostility, and took their spoil to pay my under miners in their coin. My nation was subjected to your lords. It was the force of conquest. Force with force is well ejected when the conquered can. But I, a private person whom my country as a league-breaker gave up bound, presumed single rebellion and did hostile acts. I was no private, but a person raised with strength sufficient and command from heaven to free my country. If their servile minds, me their deliverer sent would not receive, but to their masters gave me up for naught, the unworthier they. Went to this day they serve. I was to do my part from heaven assigned, and had performed it if my known offence had not disabled me, not all your force. These shifts refuted answer thy appellant, though by his blindness maimed for high attempts, who now defies the thrice to single fight as a petty enterprise of small enforce. With thee a man condemned, a slave enrolled, due by the law to capital punishment, to fight with thee no man of arms will deign. Camest thou for this vain boaster to survey me, to descant on my strength and give thy verdict? Come nearer, but not hence so slight informed, but take good heed my hand survey not thee. O balzebub, can my ears unused hear these dishonours, and not render death? No man withholds thee, nothing from thy hand fear I incurable. Bring up thy van, my heels are fettered, but my fist is free. This insolence other kind of answer fits. Go baffled coward, lest I run upon thee, though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, and with one buffet lay thy structure low, or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down to the hazard of thy brains and shattered sides. By Ashtaroth, ere long thou shalt lament these braveries in iron's loaden on thee, his giant ship is gone, somewhat crestfallen, stalking with less unconscionable strides, and lower looks, but in a sultry chafe. I dread him not, nor all his giant brood, though fame divulge him, father of five sons, all of gigantic size, Goliath chief. He will directly to the lords I fear, and with malicious counsel stir them up, some way or other, yet further to afflict thee. He must allege some cause, and offered fight will not dare mention, lest a question rise whether he dost accept the offer or not, and that he dost not plain enough appeared. Much more affliction than already felt, they cannot well impose, nor I sustain. If they intend advantage of my labours, the work of many hands, which earns my keeping with no small profit daily to my owners. But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove my speediest friend, by death to rid me hence, the worst that he can give to me the best. Yet so it may fall out, because their end is hate, not help to me, it may with mine draw their own ruin, who attempt the deed.