COMUS

COMUSA Masque presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634, before the Earl of Bridgewater, then President of WalesMasques, in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I., were generally written for the entertainment of royalty and nobility. They were, besides, in most cases, presented by royal and noble persons. In their setting, they were in strong contrast to the public drama of the day, got up, as they were, with great magnificence of architecture, scenery, and 'appareling' (Ben Jonson's word for the apparatus of the scene), and frequently at an enormous expense. They were generally offset by grotesque and comic antimasques, which were played by common actors, dancers, and buffoons, from the public theatres. Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' was probably not written as a regular drama for the public stage, but as a masque, on the occasion of some noble marriage. 'The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe' presented by the 'rude mechanicals,' 'hard-handed men,' in the fifth act, is the antimasque. It offsets the Masque in a special way. The Masque makes great demands on the imagination in its presentation of the fairy world; the antimasque is absurdly realistic—nothing is left by the 'rude mechanicals' to the imagination.The Masque of 'Comus' is the last notable, if not entirely the last, composition of the kind in English literature, and the loftiest and loveliest. It is a glorification of the power of purity and chastity over the impure and the unchaste; and the poet no doubt meant it as a reflection upon the license and excesses and revelries (of which Comus is a personification) of the profligate and extravagant court of the time, imported from'Celtic and Iberian fields.' The now obvious attitude of the composition was perhaps not at all suspected when it was performed at Ludlow Castle.There is nothing in the Masque of 'Comus' that is even suggestive of the antimasque of the earlier masques, unless it be where the Country Dancers come in before the entrance of the Attendant Spirit with the two Brothers and the Lady, who catch the dancers at their sport. The Attendant Spirit addresses them in the song (vv.958-965):'Back, shepherds, back! Enough your playTill next sunshine holiday.Here be, without duck or nod,Other trippings to be trodOf lighter toes,' etc.The subject of 'Comus' was too serious to be offset or parodied in any way by an antimasque; and, furthermore, Milton was not the man for anything of the kind. His theme excluded all humor, even if he had had any to expend upon it. Its seriousness must have been deepened for him by what he no doubt already felt in regard to the Court and the Church, that both were corrupt, and that both were leagued in their despotic tendencies, or rather in their actual despotic characters.The traditional story that the two sons of the Earl of Bridgewater, the Lord Brackley and Mr. Thomas Egerton, and their sister, the Lady Alice Egerton, were lost in Haywood Forest on their way to Ludlow Castle from Herefordshire, where they had been visiting their relatives, the Egertons, and that the Lady Alice was for a time separated from her brothers, they having gone to discover the right path, may have had its origin in the Masque. This seems more likely than that the Masque had its origin in the story.In the talk of the two Brothers in regard to their lost sister, the idea of the Masque is explicitly presented by the elder Brother. He had said:'My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strengthWhich you remember not.'The second Brother replies:'What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?'And then the elder Brother gives expression, in a long speech, the gem of the Masque (vv.418-475), to the power of chastity and purity over the unchaste and the impure.In the service of this idea, the poet started, no doubt, with Comus, the personification of unchaste and impure revelry (κῶμος), and therefrom constructed his plot, in which a pure maiden is brought within range of the wiles and temptations of the enchanter. And as the daughter of the noble family for which the Masque was written was to play the part of the tempted maiden, in the presentation of the Masque, the incident of her being temporarily and necessarily left alone by her brothers in the forest, would be readily suggested to the poet. It afforded him, too, an opportunity of paying a high compliment to the children of the Earl of Bridgewater.The traditional story may therefore be safely regarded as a figment.Henry Lawes, the most prominent music teacher of the time, in noble and wealthy families, and with a high reputation as a musical composer, furnished the music for the Masque, and took the part of the Attendant Spirit, first appearing as such, and afterward in the guise of the old and faithful shepherdThyrsis. It is not known by whom the parts of Comus and Sabrina were taken.Lawes had been one of Milton's musical friends from early boyhood.Milton addressed the following sonnet to him, which was prefixed to 'Choice Psalmes . . . by Henry and William Lawes, brothers, 1648.' In Milton's volume of poems published in 1645, Lawes is represented as 'Gentleman of the king's chapel and one of His Majesty's private music.'To Mr. H. Lawes, on his Airs(1646)'Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured songFirst taught our English music how to spanWords with just note and accent, not to scanWith Midas' ears, committing short and long,Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,5With praise enough for envy to look wan;To after-age thou shalt be writ the man,That with smooth air could humour best our tongue.Thou honourest verse, and verse must lend her wingTo honour thee, the priest of Phœbus' quire,10That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higherThan his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.'THE PERSONSThe Attendant Spirit, afterward in the habit ofThyrsis.Comus, with his Crew.The Lady.First Brother.Second Brother.Sabrina, the Nymph.The Chief Persons which presented were:The Lord Brackley;Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother;The Lady Alice Egerton.The First Scene discovers a Wild Wood.TheAttendant Spiritdescends or enters.Before the starry threshold of Jove's courtMy mansion is, where those immortal shapesOf bright aerial spirits live inspheredIn regions mild of calm and serene air,Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot5Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care,Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,After this mortal change, to her true servants,10Amongst the enthronèd Gods on sainted seats.Yet some there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that golden keyThat opes the palace of eternity.To such my errand is; and, but for such,15I would not soil these pure ambrosial weedsWith the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould.But to my task. Neptune, besides the swayOf every salt flood and each ebbing stream,Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove,20Imperial rule of all the sea-girt islesThat, like to rich and various gems, inlayThe unadornèd bosom of the deep;Which he, to grace his tributary gods,By course commits to several government,25And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crownsAnd wield their little tridents. But this Isle,The greatest and the best of all the main,He quarters to his blue-haired deities;And all this tract that fronts the falling sun30A 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 lore,Are coming to attend their father's state,35And new-intrusted sceptre. But their wayLies 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 suffer peril,40But that, by quick command from sovran Jove,I was despatched 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.45Bacchus, that first from out the purple grapeCrushed the sweet poison of misusèd wine,After the Tuscan mariners transformed,Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe,50The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cupWhoever tasted lost his upright shape,And downward fell into a grovelling swine?)This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks,With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth,55Had by him, ere he parted thence, a sonMuch like his father, but his mother more,Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named:Who, ripe, and frolic of his full-grown age,Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,60At last betakes him to this ominous wood,And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered,Excels his mother at her mighty art,Offering to every weary travellerHis orient liquor in a crystal glass,65To quench the drouth of Phœbus; which as they taste(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst),Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,The express resemblance of the gods, is changedInto some brutish form of wolf or bear,70Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,All other parts remaining as they were.And they, so perfect is their misery,Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,But boast themselves more comely than before,75And all their friends and native home forget,To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.Therefore, when any favoured of high JoveChances to pass through this adventurous glade,Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star80I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy,As now I do. But first I must put offThese my sky robes, spun out of Iris' woof,And take the weeds and likeness of a swainThat to the service of this house belongs,85Who, with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song,Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith,And in this office of his mountain watchLikeliest, and nearest to the present aid90Of this occasion. But I hear the treadOf hateful steps; I must be viewless now.Comusenters, with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering. They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.Comus.The star that bids the shepherd foldNow the top of heaven doth hold;And the gilded car of day95His glowing axle doth allayIn the steep Atlantic stream;And the slope sun his upward beamShoots against the dusky pole,Pacing toward the other goal100Of his chamber in the east.Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,Midnight shout and revelry,Tipsy dance and jollity.Braid your locks with rosy twine,105Dropping odours, dropping wine.Rigour now is gone to bed;And Advice with scrupulous head,Strict Age, and sour Severity,With their grave saws, in slumber lie.110We, that are of purer fire,Imitate the starry quire,Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,Lead in swift round the months and years.The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,115Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;And on the tawny sands and shelvesTrip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim,120Their merry wakes and pastimes keep;What hath night to do with sleep?Night hath better sweets to prove;Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.Come, let us our rites begin,125—'Tis only daylight that makes sin—Which these dun shades will ne'er report.Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flameOf midnight torches burns! mysterious dame,130That ne'er art called but when the dragon wombOf Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,And makes one blot of all the air!Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend135Us thy vowed priests, till utmost endOf all thy dues be done, and none left out;Ere the blabbing eastern scout,The nice Morn on the Indian steep,From her cabined loop-hole peep,140And to the tell-tale Sun descryOur concealed solemnity.Come, knit hands, and beat the groundIn a light fantastic round.The Measure.Break off, break off! I feel the different pace145Of some chaste footing near about this ground.Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees;Our number may affright. Some virgin sure(For so I can distinguish by mine art)Benighted in these woods! Now to my charms,150And to my wily trains: I shall ere longBe well stocked with as fair a herd as grazedAbout my mother Circe. Thus I hurlMy dazzling spells into the spungy air,Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,155And give it false presentments, lest the placeAnd my quaint habits breed astonishment,And put the damsel to suspicious flight;Which must not be, for that's against my course.I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,160And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,Baited with reasons not unplausible,Wind me into the easy-hearted man,And hug him into snares. When once her eyeHath met the virtue of this magic dust,165I shall appear some harmless villagerWhom thrift keeps up about his country gear.But here she comes; I fairly step aside,And hearken, if I may her business hear.TheLadyenters.Lady.This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,170My best guide now. Methought it was the soundOf riot and ill-managed merriment,Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipeStirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full,175In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,And thank the gods amiss. I should be lothTo meet the rudeness and swilled insolenceOf such late wassailers; yet, oh! where elseShall I inform my unacquainted feet180In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?My brothers, when they saw me wearied outWith this long way, resolving here to lodgeUnder the spreading favour of these pines,Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side185To bring me berries, or such cooling fruitAs the kind hospitable woods provide.They left me then when the gray-hooded Even,Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus' wain.190But where they are, and why they came not back,Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'Tis likeliestThey had engaged their wandering steps too far;And envious darkness, ere they could return,Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night,195Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,In thy dark lantern thus close up the starsThat Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lampsWith everlasting oil to give due lightTo the misled and lonely traveller?200This is the place, as well as I may guess,Whence even now the tumult of loud mirthWas rife, and perfect in my listening ear;Yet nought but single darkness do I find.What might this be? A thousand fantasies205Begin to throng into my memory,Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,And airy tongues that syllable men's namesOn sands and shores and desert wildernesses.These thoughts may startle well, but not astound210The virtuous mind, that ever walks attendedBy a strong siding champion, Conscience.O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,And thou unblemished form of Chastity!215I see ye visibly, and now believeThat He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things illAre but as slavish officers of vengeance,Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . .220Was I deceived, or did a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night?I did not err: there does a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night,And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.225I cannot hallo to my brothers, butSuch noise as I can make to be heard farthestI'll venture; for my new enlivened spiritsPrompt me, and they perhaps are not far off.Song.Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen230Within thy airy shellBy slow Meander's margent green,And in the violet-embroidered vale,Where the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:235Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pairThat likest thy Narcissus are?Oh, if thou haveHid them in some flowery cave,Tell me but where,240Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!So mayst thou be translated to the skies,And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies!Comus.Can any mortal mixture of earth's mouldBreathe such divine enchanting ravishment?245Sure something holy lodges in that breast,And with these raptures moves the vocal airTo testify his hidden residence.How sweetly did they float upon the wingsOf silence, through the empty-vaulted night,250At every fall smoothing the raven downOf darkness till it smiled! I have oft heardMy mother Circe with the Sirens three,Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,255Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,And chid her barking waves into attention,And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,260And in sweet madness robbed it of itself;But such a sacred and home-felt delight,Such sober certainty of waking bliss,I never heard till now. I'll speak to her,And she shall be my queen.—Hail, foreign wonder!265Whom, certain, these rough shades did never breed,Unless the goddess that in rural shrineDwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest songForbidding every bleak unkindly fogTo touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood.270Lady.Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praiseThat is addressed to unattending ears.Not any boast of skill, but extreme shiftHow to regain my severed company,Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo275To give me answer from her mossy couch.Comus.What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?Lady.Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth.Comus.Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?Lady.They left me weary on a grassy turf.280Comus.By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?Lady.To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring.Comus.And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?Lady.They were but twain, and purposed quick return.Comus.Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.285Lady.How easy my misfortune is to hit!Comus.Imports their loss, beside the present need?Lady.No less than if I should my brothers lose.Comus.Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?Lady.As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips.290Comus.Two such I saw, what time the laboured oxIn his loose traces from the furrow came,And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.I saw them under a green mantling vine,That crawls along the side of yon small hill,295Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;Their port was more than human, as they stood.I took it for a faery visionOf some gay creatures of the element,That in the colours of the rainbow live,300And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,And, as I passed, I worshipped. If those you seek,It were a journey like the path to HeavenTo help you find them.Lady.Gentle villager,What readiest way would bring me to that place?305Comus.Due west it rises from this shrubby point.Lady.To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,In such a scant allowance of star-light,Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.310Comus.I know each lane, and every alley green,Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,And every bosky bourn from side to side,My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,315Or shroud within these limits, I shall knowEre morrow wake, or the low-roosted larkFrom her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,I can conduct you, Lady, to a lowBut loyal cottage, where you may be safe320Till further quest.Lady.Shepherd, I take thy word,And trust thy honest-offered courtesy;Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,With smoky rafters, than in tapestry hallsAnd courts of princes, where it first was named,325And yet is most pretended. In a placeLess warranted than this, or less secure,It cannot be, that I should fear to change it.Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trialTo my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on.330Enter theTwo Brothers.Eld. Bro.Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair moon,That wont'st to love the traveller's benison,Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,And disinherit Chaos, that reigns hereIn double night of darkness and of shades;335Or, if your influence be quite dammed upWith black usurping mists, some gentle taper,Though a rush-candle from the wicker holeOf some clay habitation, visit usWith thy long-levelled rule of streaming light,340And thou shalt be our Star of Arcady,Or Tyrian Cynosure.Sec. Bro.Or, if our eyesBe barred that happiness, might we but hearThe folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,Or sound of pastoral reed with oaken stops,345Or whistle from the lodge, or village cockCount the night-watches to his feathery dames,'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!350Where may she wander now, whither betake herFrom the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elmLeans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.355What if in wild amazement and affright,Or, while we speak, within the direful graspOf savage hunger, or of savage heat!Eld. Bro.Peace, brother: be not over-exquisiteTo cast the fashion of uncertain evils;360For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown,What need a man forestall his date of grief,And run to meet what he would most avoid?Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,How bitter is such self-delusion!365I do not think my sister so to seek,Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,As that the single want of light and noise(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)370Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,And put them into misbecoming plight.Virtue could see to do what Virtue wouldBy her own radiant light, though sun and moonWere in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self375Oft seeks to sweet retirèd solitude,Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,That, in the various bustle of resort,Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.380He that has light within his own clear breast,May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughtsBenighted walks under the mid-day sun;Himself is his own dungeon.Sec. Bro.'Tis most true385That musing meditation most affectsThe pensive secrecy of desert-cell,Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,And sits as safe as in a senate-house;For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,390His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,Or do his grey hairs any violence?But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian treeLaden with blooming gold, had need the guardOf dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,395To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.You may as well spread out the unsunned heapsOf miser's treasure by an outlaw's den,And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope400Danger will wink on Opportunity,And let a single helpless maiden passUninjured in this wild surrounding waste.Of night or loneliness it recks me not;I fear the dread events that dog them both,405Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the personOf our unownèd sister.Eld. Bro.I do not, brother,Infer as if I thought my sister's stateSecure without all doubt or controversy;Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear410Does arbitrate the event, my nature isThat I incline to hope rather than fear,And gladly banish squint suspicion.My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strength,415Which you remember not.Sec. Bro.What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?Eld. Bro.I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;420She that has that, is clad in complete steel,And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths,Infámous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,425No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,Will dare to soil her virgin purity.Yea, there where very desolation dwells,By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,She may pass on with unblenched majesty,430Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.Some say no evil thing that walks by night,In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,435No goblin or swart faery of the mine,Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.Do ye believe me yet, or shall I callAntiquity from the old schools of GreeceTo testify the arms of chastity?440Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste,Wherewith she tamed the brinded lionessAnd spotted mountain-pard, but set at noughtThe frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men445Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shieldThat wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,But rigid looks of chaste austerity,450And noble grace that dashed brute violenceWith sudden adoration and blank awe?So dear to Heaven is saintly chastityThat, when a soul is found sincerely so,A thousand liveried angels lackey her,455Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,And in clear dream and solemn visionTell her of things that no gross ear can hear;Till oft converse with heavenly habitantsBegin to cast a beam on the outward shape,460The unpolluted temple of the mind,And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,Till all be made immortal. But, when lust,By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,465Lets in defilement to the inward parts,The soul grows clotted by contagion,Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loseThe divine property of her first being.Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp470Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,As loth to leave the body that it loved,And linked itself by carnal sensualityTo a degenerate and degraded state.475Sec. Bro.How charming is divine Philosophy!Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,But musical as is Apollo's lute,And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,Where no crude surfeit reigns.Eld. Bro.List! list! I hear480Some far-off hallo break the silent air.Sec. Bro.Methought so too; what should it be?Eld. Bro.For certain,Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst,Some roving robber calling to his fellows.485Sec. Bro.Heaven keep my sister! Again, again, and near!Best draw, and stand upon our guard.Eld. Bro.I'll hallo.If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!Enter theAttendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd.That hallo I should know. What are you? Speak!490Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.Spir.What voice is that? my young Lord? speak again.Sec. Bro.O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure.Eld. Bro.> Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayedThe huddling brook to hear his madrigal,495And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.How camest thou here, good swain? hath any ramSlipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook?500Spir.O my loved master's heir, and his next joy,I came not here on such a trivial toyAs a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealthOf pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealthThat doth enrich these downs is worth a thought505To this my errand, and the care it brought.But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?How chance she is not in your company?Eld. Bro.To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blameOr our neglect, we lost her as we came.510Spir.Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.Eld. Bro.What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly shew.Spir.I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,515Storied of old in high immortal verse,Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;For such there be, but unbelief is blind.Within the navel of this hideous wood,520Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries,And here to every thirsty wandererBy sly enticement gives his baneful cup,525With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poisonThe visage quite transforms of him that drinks,And the inglorious likeness of a beastFixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintageCharáctered in the face. This have I learnt530Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly croftsThat brow this bottom-glade; whence, night by night,He and his monstrous rout are heard to howlLike stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate535In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers.Yet have they many baits and guileful spellsTo inveigle and invite the unwary senseOf them that pass unweeting by the way.This evening late, by then the chewing flocks540Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herbOf knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,I sat me down to watch upon a bankWith ivy canopied, and interwoveWith flaunting honey-suckle, and began,545Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,To meditate my rural minstrelsy,Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close,The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,And filled the air with barbarous dissonance;550At which I ceased, and listened them a while,Till an unusual stop of sudden silenceGave respite to the drowsy-flighted steedsThat draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound555Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,And stole upon the air, that even SilenceWas took ere she was ware, and wished she mightDeny her nature, and be never more,Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,560And took in strains that might create a soulUnder the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere longToo well I did perceive it was the voiceOf my most honoured Lady, your dear sister.Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear;565And "O poor hapless nightingale," thought I,"How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!"Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,Through paths and turnings often trod by day,Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place570Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise(For so by certain signs I knew), had metAlready, ere my best speed could prevent,The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,Who gently asked if he had seen such two,575Supposing him some neighbour villager.Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessedYe were the two she meant; with that I sprungInto swift flight, till I had found you here,But further know I not.Sec. Bro.O night and shades,580How are ye joined with Hell in triple knotAgainst the unarmed weakness of one virgin,Alone and helpless! Is this the confidenceYou gave me, brother?Eld. Bro.Yes, and keep it still;Lean on it safely; not a period585Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threatsOf malice or of sorcery, or that powerWhich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled;590Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harmShall in the happy trial prove most glory.But evil on itself shall back recoil,And mix no more with goodness, when at last,Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,595It shall be in eternal restless changeSelf-fed, and self-consumed. If this fail,The pillared firmament is rottenness,And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on!Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven600May never this just sword be lifted up;But for that damned magician, let him be girtWith all the grisly legiöns that troopUnder the sooty flag of Acheron,Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms605'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out,And force him to return his purchase back,Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,Cursed as his life.Spir.Alas! good venturous youth,I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise;610But here thy sword can do thee little stead.Far other arms and other weapons mustBe those that quell the might of hellish charms.He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,And crumble all thy sinews.Eld. Bro.Why, prithee, Shepherd,615How durst thou then thyself approach so nearAs to make this relation?Spir.Care and utmost shiftsHow to secure the Lady from surprisalBrought to my mind a certain shepherd-lad,Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled620In every virtuous plant and healing herbThat spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;Which when I did, he on the tender grassWould sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy,625And in requital ope his leathern scrip,And show me simples of a thousand names,Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,But of divine effect, he culled me out.630The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,But in another country, as he said,Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil,Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swainTreads on it daily with his clouted shoon;635And yet more med'cinal is it than that MolyThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,And bade me keep it as of sovereign use'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast or damp,640Or ghastly Furies' apparitiön.I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,Till now that this extremity compelled.But now I find it true; for by this meansI knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,645Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,And yet came off. If you have this about you(As I will give you when we go), you mayBoldly assault the necromancer's hall;Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood650And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass,And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crewFierce sign of battle make, and menace high,Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke,655Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.Eld. Bro.Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee;And some good angel bear a shield before us!The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties.Comusappears with his rabble, and theLadyset in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.Comus.Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,660And you a statue, or as Daphne was,Root-bound, that fled Apollo.Lady.Fool, do not boast.Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mindWith all thy charms, although this corporal rindThou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.665Comus.Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gatesSorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasuresThat fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns670Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.And first behold this cordial julep here,That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone675In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,Is of such power to stir up joy as this,To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.Why should you be so cruel to yourself,And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent680For gentle usage and soft delicacy?But you invert the covenants of her trust,And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,With that which you received on other terms,Scorning the unexempt conditiön685By which all mortal frailty must subsist,Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,That have been tired all day without repast,And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,This will restore all soon.Lady.'Twill not, false traitor!690'Twill not restore the truth and honestyThat thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.Was this the cottage and the safe abodeThou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,These oughly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!695Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocenceWith vizored falsehood and base forgery?And wouldst thou seek again to trap me hereWith liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?700Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,I would not taste thy treasonous offer. NoneBut such as are good men can give good things;And that which is not good is not deliciousTo a well-governed and wise appetite.705Comus.O foolishness of men! that lend their earsTo those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth710With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,But all to please and sate the curious taste?And set to work millions of spinning worms,715That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,To deck her sons; and that no corner mightBe vacant of her plenty, in her own loinsShe hutched the all-worshiped ore and precious gems,To store her children with. If all the world720Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse,Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,Not half his riches known, and yet despised;And we should serve him as a grudging master,725As a penurious niggard of his wealth,And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons,Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,And strangled with her waste fertility;The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,730The herds would over-multitude their lords;The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamondsWould so emblaze the forehead of the deep,And so bestud with stars, that they belowWould grow inured to light, and come at last735To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozenedWith that same vaunted name, Virginity.Beauty is Nature's coin; must not be hoarded,But must be current; and the good thereof740Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself.If you let slip time, like a neglected roseIt withers on the stalk with languished head.Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown745In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,Where most may wonder at the workmanship.It is for homely features to keep home;They had their name thence; coarse complexionsAnd cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply750The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?There was another meaning in these gifts;Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet.755Lady.I had not thought to have unlocked my lipsIn this unhallowed air, but that this jugglerWould think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb.I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,760And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature,As if she would her children should be riotousWith her abundance. She, good cateress,Means her provision only to the good,765That live according to her sober laws,And holy dictate of spare Temperance.If every just man, that now pines with want,Had but a moderate and beseeming shareOf that which lewdly-pampered Luxury770Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,Nature's full blessings would be well dispensedIn unsuperfluous even proportiön,And she no whit encumbered with her store;And then the Giver would be better thanked,775His praise due paid: for swinish GluttonyNe'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,But with besotted base ingratitudeCrams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?Or have I said enow? To him that dares780Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous wordsAgainst the sun-clad power of Chastity,Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehendThe sublime notion and high mystery785That must be uttered to unfold the sageAnd serious doctrine of Virginity;And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not knowMore happiness than this thy present lot.Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,790That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worthOf this pure cause would kindle my rapt spiritsTo such a flame of sacred vehemence,795That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.Comus.She fables not. I feel that I do fear800Her words set off by some superior power;And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dewDips me all o'er, as when the wrath of JoveSpeaks thunder and the chains of ErebusTo some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,805And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more!This is mere moral babble, and directAgainst the canon-laws of our foundation.I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the leesAnd settlings of a melancholy blood.810But this will cure all straight; one sip of thisWill bathe the drooping spirits in delightBeyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.TheBrothersrush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. TheAttendant Spiritcomes in.Spir.What! have you let the false enchanter scape?Oh, ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand,815And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,And backward mutters of dissevering power,We cannot free the Lady that sits hereIn stony fetters fixed, and motionless.Yet stay: be not disturbed; now I bethink me,820Some other means I have which may be used,Which once of Melibœus old I learnt,The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains.There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream:825Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure;Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,That had the sceptre from his father Brute.She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuitOf her enragèd stepdame, Guendolen,830Commended her fair innocence to the flood,That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in,Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall;835Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,And gave her to his daughters to imbatheIn nectared lavers strewed with asphodil,And through the porch and inlet of each senseDropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived,840And underwent a quick immortal change,Made Goddess of the river. Still she retainsHer maiden gentleness, and oft at eveVisits the herds along the twilight meadows,Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs845That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,Which she with precious vialed liquors heals;For which the shepherds at their festivalsCarol her goodness loud in rustic lays,And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream850Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.And, as the old swain said, she can unlockThe clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,If she be right invoked in warbled song;For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift855To aid a virgin, such as was herself,In hard-besetting need. This will I try,And add the power of some adjuring verse.Song.Sabrina fair,Listen where thou art sitting860Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of lilies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;Listen for dear honour's sake,Goddess of the silver lake,865Listen and save!Listen and appear to us,In name of great Oceanus.By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,And Tethy's grave majestic pace;870By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,And the Carpathian wizard's hook;By scaly Triton's winding shell,And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;By Leucothea's lovely hands,875And her son that rules the strands;By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,And the songs of Sirens sweet;By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,And fair Ligea's golden comb,880Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,Sleeking her soft alluring locks;By all the nymphs that nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance;Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head885From thy coral-paven bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!Sabrinarises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings.By the rushy-fringèd bank,890Where grows the willow and the osier dank,My sliding chariot stays,Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheenOf turkis blue, and emerald green,That in the channel strays;895Whilst, from off the waters fleet,Thus I set my printless feetO'er the cowslip's velvet head,That bends not as I tread.Gentle swain, at thy request900I am here!Spir.Goddess dear,We implore thy powerful handTo undo the charmèd bandOf true virgin here distrest905Through the force and through the wileOf unblest enchanter vile.Sabr.Shepherd, 'tis my office blestTo help ensnarèd chastity.Brightest Lady, look on me.910Thus I sprinkle on thy breastDrops that from my fountain pureI have kept of precious cure;Thrice upon thy finger's tip,Thrice upon thy rubied lip;915Next this marble venomed seat,Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.Now the spell hath lost his hold;And I must haste ere morning hour920To wait in Amphitrite's bower.Sabrinadescends, and theLadyrises out of her seat.Spir.Virgin, daughter of Locrine,Sprung of old Anchises' line,May thy brimmèd waves for thisTheir full tribute never miss925From a thousand petty rills,That tumble down the snowy hills;Summer drouth, or singèd airNever scorch thy tresses fair,Nor wet October's torrent flood930Thy molten crystal fill with mud;May thy billows roll ashoreThe beryl, and the golden ore;May thy lofty head be crownedWith many a tower and terrace round,935And here and there thy banks uponWith groves of myrrh and cinnamon.Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace,Let us fly this cursed place,Lest the sorcerer us entice940With some other new device.Not a waste or needless sound,Till we come to holier ground.I shall be your faithful guideThrough this gloomy covert wide;945And not many furlongs thenceIs your Father's residence,Where this night are met in stateMany a friend to gratulateHis wished presence, and beside950All the swains that there abideWith jigs, and rural dance resort.We shall catch them at their sport,And our sudden coming thereWill double all their mirth and cheer.955Come, let us haste; the stars grow high,But Night sits monarch yet in the mid-sky.The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the President's castle; then come in country dancers; after them theAttendant Spirit, with theTwo Brothersand theLady.Song.Spir.Back, shepherds, back! enough your play,Till next sunshine holiday.Here be, without duck or nod,960Other trippings to be trodOf lighter toes, and such court-guiseAs Mercury did first deviseWith the mincing DryadesOn the lawns and on the leas.965This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother.Noble Lord, and Lady bright,I have brought ye new delight.Here behold so goodly grownThree fair branches of your own.Heaven hath timely tried their youth,970Their faith, their patience, and their truth,And sent them here through hard assaysWith a crown of deathless praise,To triumph in victorious danceO'er sensual folly and intemperance.975The dances ended, theSpiritepiloguizes.Spir.To the ocean now I fly,And those happy climes that lieWhere day never shuts his eye,Up in the broad fields of the sky.There I suck the liquid air,980All amidst the gardens fairOf Hesperus, and his daughters threeThat sing about the golden tree.Along the crispèd shades and bowersRevels the spruce and jocund Spring;985The Graces and the rosy-bosomed HoursThither all their bounties bring.There eternal Summer dwells,And west-winds with musky wingAbout the cedarn alleys fling990Nard and cassia's balmy smells.Iris there with humid bowWaters the odorous banks, that blowFlowers of more mingled hueThan her purfled scarf can shew,995And drenches with Elysian dew(List, mortals, if your ears be true)Beds of hyacinth and roses,Where young Adonis oft reposes,Waxing well of his deep wound,1000In slumber soft, and on the groundSadly sits the Assyrian queen.But far above, in spangled sheen,Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advancedHolds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced1005After her wandering labours long,Till free consent the gods amongMake her his eternal bride,And from her fair unspotted sideTwo blissful twins are to be born,1010Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.But now my task is smoothly done,I can fly, or I can runQuickly to the green earth's end,Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015And from thence can soar as soonTo the corners of the moon.Mortals, that would follow me,Love Virtue; she alone is free.She can teach ye how to climb1020Higher than the sphery chime;Or, if Virtue feeble were,Heaven itself would stoop to her.

A Masque presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634, before the Earl of Bridgewater, then President of Wales

Masques, in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I., were generally written for the entertainment of royalty and nobility. They were, besides, in most cases, presented by royal and noble persons. In their setting, they were in strong contrast to the public drama of the day, got up, as they were, with great magnificence of architecture, scenery, and 'appareling' (Ben Jonson's word for the apparatus of the scene), and frequently at an enormous expense. They were generally offset by grotesque and comic antimasques, which were played by common actors, dancers, and buffoons, from the public theatres. Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' was probably not written as a regular drama for the public stage, but as a masque, on the occasion of some noble marriage. 'The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe' presented by the 'rude mechanicals,' 'hard-handed men,' in the fifth act, is the antimasque. It offsets the Masque in a special way. The Masque makes great demands on the imagination in its presentation of the fairy world; the antimasque is absurdly realistic—nothing is left by the 'rude mechanicals' to the imagination.

The Masque of 'Comus' is the last notable, if not entirely the last, composition of the kind in English literature, and the loftiest and loveliest. It is a glorification of the power of purity and chastity over the impure and the unchaste; and the poet no doubt meant it as a reflection upon the license and excesses and revelries (of which Comus is a personification) of the profligate and extravagant court of the time, imported from'Celtic and Iberian fields.' The now obvious attitude of the composition was perhaps not at all suspected when it was performed at Ludlow Castle.

There is nothing in the Masque of 'Comus' that is even suggestive of the antimasque of the earlier masques, unless it be where the Country Dancers come in before the entrance of the Attendant Spirit with the two Brothers and the Lady, who catch the dancers at their sport. The Attendant Spirit addresses them in the song (vv.958-965):

'Back, shepherds, back! Enough your playTill next sunshine holiday.Here be, without duck or nod,Other trippings to be trodOf lighter toes,' etc.

'Back, shepherds, back! Enough your play

Till next sunshine holiday.

Here be, without duck or nod,

Other trippings to be trod

Of lighter toes,' etc.

The subject of 'Comus' was too serious to be offset or parodied in any way by an antimasque; and, furthermore, Milton was not the man for anything of the kind. His theme excluded all humor, even if he had had any to expend upon it. Its seriousness must have been deepened for him by what he no doubt already felt in regard to the Court and the Church, that both were corrupt, and that both were leagued in their despotic tendencies, or rather in their actual despotic characters.

The traditional story that the two sons of the Earl of Bridgewater, the Lord Brackley and Mr. Thomas Egerton, and their sister, the Lady Alice Egerton, were lost in Haywood Forest on their way to Ludlow Castle from Herefordshire, where they had been visiting their relatives, the Egertons, and that the Lady Alice was for a time separated from her brothers, they having gone to discover the right path, may have had its origin in the Masque. This seems more likely than that the Masque had its origin in the story.

In the talk of the two Brothers in regard to their lost sister, the idea of the Masque is explicitly presented by the elder Brother. He had said:

'My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strengthWhich you remember not.'

'My sister is not so defenceless left

As you imagine; she has a hidden strength

Which you remember not.'

The second Brother replies:

'What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?'

'What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?'

And then the elder Brother gives expression, in a long speech, the gem of the Masque (vv.418-475), to the power of chastity and purity over the unchaste and the impure.

In the service of this idea, the poet started, no doubt, with Comus, the personification of unchaste and impure revelry (κῶμος), and therefrom constructed his plot, in which a pure maiden is brought within range of the wiles and temptations of the enchanter. And as the daughter of the noble family for which the Masque was written was to play the part of the tempted maiden, in the presentation of the Masque, the incident of her being temporarily and necessarily left alone by her brothers in the forest, would be readily suggested to the poet. It afforded him, too, an opportunity of paying a high compliment to the children of the Earl of Bridgewater.

The traditional story may therefore be safely regarded as a figment.

Henry Lawes, the most prominent music teacher of the time, in noble and wealthy families, and with a high reputation as a musical composer, furnished the music for the Masque, and took the part of the Attendant Spirit, first appearing as such, and afterward in the guise of the old and faithful shepherdThyrsis. It is not known by whom the parts of Comus and Sabrina were taken.

Lawes had been one of Milton's musical friends from early boyhood.

Milton addressed the following sonnet to him, which was prefixed to 'Choice Psalmes . . . by Henry and William Lawes, brothers, 1648.' In Milton's volume of poems published in 1645, Lawes is represented as 'Gentleman of the king's chapel and one of His Majesty's private music.'

To Mr. H. Lawes, on his Airs(1646)

'Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured songFirst taught our English music how to spanWords with just note and accent, not to scanWith Midas' ears, committing short and long,Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,5With praise enough for envy to look wan;To after-age thou shalt be writ the man,That with smooth air could humour best our tongue.Thou honourest verse, and verse must lend her wingTo honour thee, the priest of Phœbus' quire,10That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higherThan his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.'

'Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song

First taught our English music how to span

Words with just note and accent, not to scan

With Midas' ears, committing short and long,

Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,5

With praise enough for envy to look wan;

To after-age thou shalt be writ the man,

That with smooth air could humour best our tongue.

Thou honourest verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honour thee, the priest of Phœbus' quire,10

That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.

Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher

Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,

Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.'

The Chief Persons which presented were:

The First Scene discovers a Wild Wood.

TheAttendant Spiritdescends or enters.

Before the starry threshold of Jove's courtMy mansion is, where those immortal shapesOf bright aerial spirits live inspheredIn regions mild of calm and serene air,Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot5Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care,Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,After this mortal change, to her true servants,10Amongst the enthronèd Gods on sainted seats.Yet some there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that golden keyThat opes the palace of eternity.To such my errand is; and, but for such,15I would not soil these pure ambrosial weedsWith the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould.But to my task. Neptune, besides the swayOf every salt flood and each ebbing stream,Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove,20Imperial rule of all the sea-girt islesThat, like to rich and various gems, inlayThe unadornèd bosom of the deep;Which he, to grace his tributary gods,By course commits to several government,25And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crownsAnd wield their little tridents. But this Isle,The greatest and the best of all the main,He quarters to his blue-haired deities;And all this tract that fronts the falling sun30A 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 lore,Are coming to attend their father's state,35And new-intrusted sceptre. But their wayLies 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 suffer peril,40But that, by quick command from sovran Jove,I was despatched 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.45Bacchus, that first from out the purple grapeCrushed the sweet poison of misusèd wine,After the Tuscan mariners transformed,Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe,50The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cupWhoever tasted lost his upright shape,And downward fell into a grovelling swine?)This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks,With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth,55Had by him, ere he parted thence, a sonMuch like his father, but his mother more,Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named:Who, ripe, and frolic of his full-grown age,Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,60At last betakes him to this ominous wood,And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered,Excels his mother at her mighty art,Offering to every weary travellerHis orient liquor in a crystal glass,65To quench the drouth of Phœbus; which as they taste(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst),Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,The express resemblance of the gods, is changedInto some brutish form of wolf or bear,70Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,All other parts remaining as they were.And they, so perfect is their misery,Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,But boast themselves more comely than before,75And all their friends and native home forget,To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.Therefore, when any favoured of high JoveChances to pass through this adventurous glade,Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star80I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy,As now I do. But first I must put offThese my sky robes, spun out of Iris' woof,And take the weeds and likeness of a swainThat to the service of this house belongs,85Who, with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song,Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith,And in this office of his mountain watchLikeliest, and nearest to the present aid90Of this occasion. But I hear the treadOf hateful steps; I must be viewless now.

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court

My mansion is, where those immortal shapes

Of bright aerial spirits live insphered

In regions mild of calm and serene air,

Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot5

Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care,

Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,

Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,

After this mortal change, to her true servants,10

Amongst the enthronèd Gods on sainted seats.

Yet some there be that by due 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 sway

Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream,

Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove,20

Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles

That, like to rich and various gems, inlay

The unadornèd bosom of the deep;

Which he, to grace his tributary gods,

By course commits to several government,25

And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns

And wield their little tridents. But this Isle,

The greatest and the best of all the main,

He quarters to his blue-haired deities;

And all this tract that fronts the falling sun30

A noble Peer of mickle trust and power

Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide

An old and haughty nation proud in arms:

Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore,

Are coming to attend their father's state,35

And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way

Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood,

The nodding horror of whose shady brows

Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger;

And here their tender age might suffer peril,40

But that, by quick command from sovran Jove,

I was despatched for their defence and guard.

And listen why; for I will tell you now

What 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 grape

Crushed the sweet poison of misusèd wine,

After the Tuscan mariners transformed,

Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,

On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe,50

The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup

Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,

And downward fell into a grovelling swine?)

This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks,

With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth,55

Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son

Much like his father, but his mother more,

Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named:

Who, ripe, and frolic of his full-grown age,

Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,60

At last betakes him to this ominous wood,

And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered,

Excels his mother at her mighty art,

Offering to every weary traveller

His orient liquor in a crystal glass,65

To quench the drouth of Phœbus; which as they taste

(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst),

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,

The express resemblance of the gods, is changed

Into some brutish form of wolf or bear,70

Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,

All other parts remaining as they were.

And they, so perfect is their misery,

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,

But boast themselves more comely than before,75

And all their friends and native home forget,

To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.

Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove

Chances to pass through this adventurous glade,

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star80

I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy,

As now I do. But first I must put off

These my sky robes, spun out of Iris' woof,

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain

That to the service of this house belongs,85

Who, with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song,

Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,

And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith,

And in this office of his mountain watch

Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid90

Of this occasion. But I hear the tread

Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now.

Comusenters, with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering. They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.

Comus.The star that bids the shepherd foldNow the top of heaven doth hold;And the gilded car of day95His glowing axle doth allayIn the steep Atlantic stream;And the slope sun his upward beamShoots against the dusky pole,Pacing toward the other goal100Of his chamber in the east.Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,Midnight shout and revelry,Tipsy dance and jollity.Braid your locks with rosy twine,105Dropping odours, dropping wine.Rigour now is gone to bed;And Advice with scrupulous head,Strict Age, and sour Severity,With their grave saws, in slumber lie.110We, that are of purer fire,Imitate the starry quire,Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,Lead in swift round the months and years.The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,115Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;And on the tawny sands and shelvesTrip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim,120Their merry wakes and pastimes keep;What hath night to do with sleep?Night hath better sweets to prove;Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.Come, let us our rites begin,125—'Tis only daylight that makes sin—Which these dun shades will ne'er report.Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flameOf midnight torches burns! mysterious dame,130That ne'er art called but when the dragon wombOf Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,And makes one blot of all the air!Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend135Us thy vowed priests, till utmost endOf all thy dues be done, and none left out;Ere the blabbing eastern scout,The nice Morn on the Indian steep,From her cabined loop-hole peep,140And to the tell-tale Sun descryOur concealed solemnity.Come, knit hands, and beat the groundIn a light fantastic round.

Comus.The star that bids the shepherd fold

Now the top of heaven doth hold;

And the gilded car of day95

His glowing axle doth allay

In the steep Atlantic stream;

And the slope sun his upward beam

Shoots against the dusky pole,

Pacing toward the other goal100

Of his chamber in the east.

Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,

Midnight shout and revelry,

Tipsy dance and jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,105

Dropping odours, dropping wine.

Rigour now is gone to bed;

And Advice with scrupulous head,

Strict Age, and sour Severity,

With their grave saws, in slumber lie.110

We, that are of purer fire,

Imitate the starry quire,

Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,

Lead in swift round the months and years.

The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,115

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;

And on the tawny sands and shelves

Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.

By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,

The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim,120

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep;

What hath night to do with sleep?

Night hath better sweets to prove;

Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.

Come, let us our rites begin,125

—'Tis only daylight that makes sin—

Which these dun shades will ne'er report.

Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,

Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame

Of midnight torches burns! mysterious dame,130

That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb

Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,

And makes one blot of all the air!

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend135

Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out;

Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice Morn on the Indian steep,

From her cabined loop-hole peep,140

And to the tell-tale Sun descry

Our concealed solemnity.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground

In a light fantastic round.

The Measure.

Break off, break off! I feel the different pace145Of some chaste footing near about this ground.Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees;Our number may affright. Some virgin sure(For so I can distinguish by mine art)Benighted in these woods! Now to my charms,150And to my wily trains: I shall ere longBe well stocked with as fair a herd as grazedAbout my mother Circe. Thus I hurlMy dazzling spells into the spungy air,Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,155And give it false presentments, lest the placeAnd my quaint habits breed astonishment,And put the damsel to suspicious flight;Which must not be, for that's against my course.I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,160And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,Baited with reasons not unplausible,Wind me into the easy-hearted man,And hug him into snares. When once her eyeHath met the virtue of this magic dust,165I shall appear some harmless villagerWhom thrift keeps up about his country gear.But here she comes; I fairly step aside,And hearken, if I may her business hear.

Break off, break off! I feel the different pace145

Of some chaste footing near about this ground.

Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees;

Our number may affright. Some virgin sure

(For so I can distinguish by mine art)

Benighted in these woods! Now to my charms,150

And to my wily trains: I shall ere long

Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed

About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl

My dazzling spells into the spungy air,

Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,155

And give it false presentments, lest the place

And my quaint habits breed astonishment,

And put the damsel to suspicious flight;

Which must not be, for that's against my course.

I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,160

And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,

Baited with reasons not unplausible,

Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

And hug him into snares. When once her eye

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,165

I shall appear some harmless villager

Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.

But here she comes; I fairly step aside,

And hearken, if I may her business hear.

TheLadyenters.

Lady.This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,170My best guide now. Methought it was the soundOf riot and ill-managed merriment,Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipeStirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full,175In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,And thank the gods amiss. I should be lothTo meet the rudeness and swilled insolenceOf such late wassailers; yet, oh! where elseShall I inform my unacquainted feet180In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?My brothers, when they saw me wearied outWith this long way, resolving here to lodgeUnder the spreading favour of these pines,Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side185To bring me berries, or such cooling fruitAs the kind hospitable woods provide.They left me then when the gray-hooded Even,Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus' wain.190But where they are, and why they came not back,Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'Tis likeliestThey had engaged their wandering steps too far;And envious darkness, ere they could return,Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night,195Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,In thy dark lantern thus close up the starsThat Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lampsWith everlasting oil to give due lightTo the misled and lonely traveller?200This is the place, as well as I may guess,Whence even now the tumult of loud mirthWas rife, and perfect in my listening ear;Yet nought but single darkness do I find.What might this be? A thousand fantasies205Begin to throng into my memory,Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,And airy tongues that syllable men's namesOn sands and shores and desert wildernesses.These thoughts may startle well, but not astound210The virtuous mind, that ever walks attendedBy a strong siding champion, Conscience.O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,And thou unblemished form of Chastity!215I see ye visibly, and now believeThat He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things illAre but as slavish officers of vengeance,Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . .220Was I deceived, or did a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night?I did not err: there does a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night,And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.225I cannot hallo to my brothers, butSuch noise as I can make to be heard farthestI'll venture; for my new enlivened spiritsPrompt me, and they perhaps are not far off.

Lady.This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,170

My best guide now. Methought it was the sound

Of riot and ill-managed merriment,

Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe

Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,

When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full,175

In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,

And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth

To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence

Of such late wassailers; yet, oh! where else

Shall I inform my unacquainted feet180

In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?

My brothers, when they saw me wearied out

With this long way, resolving here to lodge

Under the spreading favour of these pines,

Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side185

To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit

As the kind hospitable woods provide.

They left me then when the gray-hooded Even,

Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,

Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus' wain.190

But where they are, and why they came not back,

Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'Tis likeliest

They had engaged their wandering steps too far;

And envious darkness, ere they could return,

Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night,195

Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,

In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars

That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps

With everlasting oil to give due light

To the misled and lonely traveller?200

This is the place, as well as I may guess,

Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth

Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear;

Yet nought but single darkness do I find.

What might this be? A thousand fantasies205

Begin to throng into my memory,

Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,

And airy tongues that syllable men's names

On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.

These thoughts may startle well, but not astound210

The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended

By a strong siding champion, Conscience.

O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,

Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,

And thou unblemished form of Chastity!215

I see ye visibly, and now believe

That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,

Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,

To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . .220

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud

Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

I did not err: there does a sable cloud

Turn forth her silver lining on the night,

And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.225

I cannot hallo to my brothers, but

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest

I'll venture; for my new enlivened spirits

Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off.

Song.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen230Within thy airy shellBy slow Meander's margent green,And in the violet-embroidered vale,Where the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:235Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pairThat likest thy Narcissus are?Oh, if thou haveHid them in some flowery cave,Tell me but where,240Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!So mayst thou be translated to the skies,And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies!

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen230

Within thy airy shell

By slow Meander's margent green,

And in the violet-embroidered vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale

Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:235

Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair

That likest thy Narcissus are?

Oh, if thou have

Hid them in some flowery cave,

Tell me but where,240

Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!

So mayst thou be translated to the skies,

And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies!

Comus.Can any mortal mixture of earth's mouldBreathe such divine enchanting ravishment?245Sure something holy lodges in that breast,And with these raptures moves the vocal airTo testify his hidden residence.How sweetly did they float upon the wingsOf silence, through the empty-vaulted night,250At every fall smoothing the raven downOf darkness till it smiled! I have oft heardMy mother Circe with the Sirens three,Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,255Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,And chid her barking waves into attention,And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,260And in sweet madness robbed it of itself;But such a sacred and home-felt delight,Such sober certainty of waking bliss,I never heard till now. I'll speak to her,And she shall be my queen.—Hail, foreign wonder!265Whom, certain, these rough shades did never breed,Unless the goddess that in rural shrineDwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest songForbidding every bleak unkindly fogTo touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood.270Lady.Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praiseThat is addressed to unattending ears.Not any boast of skill, but extreme shiftHow to regain my severed company,Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo275To give me answer from her mossy couch.Comus.What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?Lady.Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth.Comus.Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?Lady.They left me weary on a grassy turf.280Comus.By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?Lady.To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring.Comus.And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?Lady.They were but twain, and purposed quick return.Comus.Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.285Lady.How easy my misfortune is to hit!Comus.Imports their loss, beside the present need?Lady.No less than if I should my brothers lose.Comus.Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?Lady.As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips.290Comus.Two such I saw, what time the laboured oxIn his loose traces from the furrow came,And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.I saw them under a green mantling vine,That crawls along the side of yon small hill,295Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;Their port was more than human, as they stood.I took it for a faery visionOf some gay creatures of the element,That in the colours of the rainbow live,300And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,And, as I passed, I worshipped. If those you seek,It were a journey like the path to HeavenTo help you find them.Lady.Gentle villager,What readiest way would bring me to that place?305Comus.Due west it rises from this shrubby point.Lady.To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,In such a scant allowance of star-light,Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.310Comus.I know each lane, and every alley green,Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,And every bosky bourn from side to side,My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,315Or shroud within these limits, I shall knowEre morrow wake, or the low-roosted larkFrom her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,I can conduct you, Lady, to a lowBut loyal cottage, where you may be safe320Till further quest.Lady.Shepherd, I take thy word,And trust thy honest-offered courtesy;Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,With smoky rafters, than in tapestry hallsAnd courts of princes, where it first was named,325And yet is most pretended. In a placeLess warranted than this, or less secure,It cannot be, that I should fear to change it.Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trialTo my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on.330

Comus.Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould

Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?245

Sure something holy lodges in that breast,

And with these raptures moves the vocal air

To testify his hidden residence.

How sweetly did they float upon the wings

Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,250

At every fall smoothing the raven down

Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard

My mother Circe with the Sirens three,

Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,

Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,255

Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,

And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,

And chid her barking waves into attention,

And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.

Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,260

And in sweet madness robbed it of itself;

But such a sacred and home-felt delight,

Such sober certainty of waking bliss,

I never heard till now. I'll speak to her,

And she shall be my queen.—Hail, foreign wonder!265

Whom, certain, these rough shades did never breed,

Unless the goddess that in rural shrine

Dwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song

Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog

To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood.270

Lady.Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praiseThat is addressed to unattending ears.Not any boast of skill, but extreme shiftHow to regain my severed company,Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo275To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Lady.Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise

That is addressed to unattending ears.

Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift

How to regain my severed company,

Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo275

To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Comus.What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?

Lady.Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth.

Comus.Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?

Lady.They left me weary on a grassy turf.280

Comus.By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?

Lady.To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring.

Comus.And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?

Lady.They were but twain, and purposed quick return.

Comus.Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.285

Lady.How easy my misfortune is to hit!

Comus.Imports their loss, beside the present need?

Lady.No less than if I should my brothers lose.

Comus.Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?

Lady.As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips.290

Comus.Two such I saw, what time the laboured oxIn his loose traces from the furrow came,And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.I saw them under a green mantling vine,That crawls along the side of yon small hill,295Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;Their port was more than human, as they stood.I took it for a faery visionOf some gay creatures of the element,That in the colours of the rainbow live,300And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,And, as I passed, I worshipped. If those you seek,It were a journey like the path to HeavenTo help you find them.

Comus.Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox

In his loose traces from the furrow came,

And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.

I saw them under a green mantling vine,

That crawls along the side of yon small hill,295

Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;

Their port was more than human, as they stood.

I took it for a faery vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

That in the colours of the rainbow live,300

And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,

And, as I passed, I worshipped. If those you seek,

It were a journey like the path to Heaven

To help you find them.

Lady.Gentle villager,What readiest way would bring me to that place?305

Lady.Gentle villager,

What readiest way would bring me to that place?305

Comus.Due west it rises from this shrubby point.

Lady.To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,In such a scant allowance of star-light,Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.310

Lady.To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,

In such a scant allowance of star-light,

Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,

Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.310

Comus.I know each lane, and every alley green,Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,And every bosky bourn from side to side,My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,315Or shroud within these limits, I shall knowEre morrow wake, or the low-roosted larkFrom her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,I can conduct you, Lady, to a lowBut loyal cottage, where you may be safe320Till further quest.

Comus.I know each lane, and every alley green,

Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,

And every bosky bourn from side to side,

My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;

And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,315

Or shroud within these limits, I shall know

Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark

From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,

I can conduct you, Lady, to a low

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe320

Till further quest.

Lady.Shepherd, I take thy word,And trust thy honest-offered courtesy;Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,With smoky rafters, than in tapestry hallsAnd courts of princes, where it first was named,325And yet is most pretended. In a placeLess warranted than this, or less secure,It cannot be, that I should fear to change it.Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trialTo my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on.330

Lady.Shepherd, I take thy word,

And trust thy honest-offered courtesy;

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,

With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls

And courts of princes, where it first was named,325

And yet is most pretended. In a place

Less warranted than this, or less secure,

It cannot be, that I should fear to change it.

Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial

To my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on.330

Enter theTwo Brothers.

Eld. Bro.Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair moon,That wont'st to love the traveller's benison,Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,And disinherit Chaos, that reigns hereIn double night of darkness and of shades;335Or, if your influence be quite dammed upWith black usurping mists, some gentle taper,Though a rush-candle from the wicker holeOf some clay habitation, visit usWith thy long-levelled rule of streaming light,340And thou shalt be our Star of Arcady,Or Tyrian Cynosure.Sec. Bro.Or, if our eyesBe barred that happiness, might we but hearThe folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,Or sound of pastoral reed with oaken stops,345Or whistle from the lodge, or village cockCount the night-watches to his feathery dames,'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!350Where may she wander now, whither betake herFrom the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elmLeans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.355What if in wild amazement and affright,Or, while we speak, within the direful graspOf savage hunger, or of savage heat!Eld. Bro.Peace, brother: be not over-exquisiteTo cast the fashion of uncertain evils;360For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown,What need a man forestall his date of grief,And run to meet what he would most avoid?Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,How bitter is such self-delusion!365I do not think my sister so to seek,Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,As that the single want of light and noise(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)370Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,And put them into misbecoming plight.Virtue could see to do what Virtue wouldBy her own radiant light, though sun and moonWere in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self375Oft seeks to sweet retirèd solitude,Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,That, in the various bustle of resort,Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.380He that has light within his own clear breast,May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughtsBenighted walks under the mid-day sun;Himself is his own dungeon.Sec. Bro.'Tis most true385That musing meditation most affectsThe pensive secrecy of desert-cell,Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,And sits as safe as in a senate-house;For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,390His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,Or do his grey hairs any violence?But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian treeLaden with blooming gold, had need the guardOf dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,395To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.You may as well spread out the unsunned heapsOf miser's treasure by an outlaw's den,And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope400Danger will wink on Opportunity,And let a single helpless maiden passUninjured in this wild surrounding waste.Of night or loneliness it recks me not;I fear the dread events that dog them both,405Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the personOf our unownèd sister.Eld. Bro.I do not, brother,Infer as if I thought my sister's stateSecure without all doubt or controversy;Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear410Does arbitrate the event, my nature isThat I incline to hope rather than fear,And gladly banish squint suspicion.My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strength,415Which you remember not.Sec. Bro.What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?Eld. Bro.I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;420She that has that, is clad in complete steel,And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths,Infámous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,425No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,Will dare to soil her virgin purity.Yea, there where very desolation dwells,By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,She may pass on with unblenched majesty,430Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.Some say no evil thing that walks by night,In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,435No goblin or swart faery of the mine,Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.Do ye believe me yet, or shall I callAntiquity from the old schools of GreeceTo testify the arms of chastity?440Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste,Wherewith she tamed the brinded lionessAnd spotted mountain-pard, but set at noughtThe frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men445Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shieldThat wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,But rigid looks of chaste austerity,450And noble grace that dashed brute violenceWith sudden adoration and blank awe?So dear to Heaven is saintly chastityThat, when a soul is found sincerely so,A thousand liveried angels lackey her,455Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,And in clear dream and solemn visionTell her of things that no gross ear can hear;Till oft converse with heavenly habitantsBegin to cast a beam on the outward shape,460The unpolluted temple of the mind,And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,Till all be made immortal. But, when lust,By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,465Lets in defilement to the inward parts,The soul grows clotted by contagion,Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loseThe divine property of her first being.Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp470Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,As loth to leave the body that it loved,And linked itself by carnal sensualityTo a degenerate and degraded state.475Sec. Bro.How charming is divine Philosophy!Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,But musical as is Apollo's lute,And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,Where no crude surfeit reigns.Eld. Bro.List! list! I hear480Some far-off hallo break the silent air.Sec. Bro.Methought so too; what should it be?Eld. Bro.For certain,Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst,Some roving robber calling to his fellows.485Sec. Bro.Heaven keep my sister! Again, again, and near!Best draw, and stand upon our guard.Eld. Bro.I'll hallo.If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!

Eld. Bro.Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair moon,

That wont'st to love the traveller's benison,

Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,

And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here

In double night of darkness and of shades;335

Or, if your influence be quite dammed up

With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,

Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole

Of some clay habitation, visit us

With thy long-levelled rule of streaming light,340

And thou shalt be our Star of Arcady,

Or Tyrian Cynosure.

Sec. Bro.Or, if our eyesBe barred that happiness, might we but hearThe folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,Or sound of pastoral reed with oaken stops,345Or whistle from the lodge, or village cockCount the night-watches to his feathery dames,'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!350Where may she wander now, whither betake herFrom the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elmLeans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.355What if in wild amazement and affright,Or, while we speak, within the direful graspOf savage hunger, or of savage heat!

Sec. Bro.Or, if our eyes

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear

The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,

Or sound of pastoral reed with oaken stops,345

Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock

Count the night-watches to his feathery dames,

'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,

In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.

But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!350

Where may she wander now, whither betake her

From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?

Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,

Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm

Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.355

What if in wild amazement and affright,

Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp

Of savage hunger, or of savage heat!

Eld. Bro.Peace, brother: be not over-exquisiteTo cast the fashion of uncertain evils;360For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown,What need a man forestall his date of grief,And run to meet what he would most avoid?Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,How bitter is such self-delusion!365I do not think my sister so to seek,Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,As that the single want of light and noise(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)370Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,And put them into misbecoming plight.Virtue could see to do what Virtue wouldBy her own radiant light, though sun and moonWere in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self375Oft seeks to sweet retirèd solitude,Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,That, in the various bustle of resort,Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.380He that has light within his own clear breast,May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughtsBenighted walks under the mid-day sun;Himself is his own dungeon.

Eld. Bro.Peace, brother: be not over-exquisite

To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;360

For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown,

What need a man forestall his date of grief,

And run to meet what he would most avoid?

Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,

How bitter is such self-delusion!365

I do not think my sister so to seek,

Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,

As that the single want of light and noise

(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)370

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,

And put them into misbecoming plight.

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon

Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self375

Oft seeks to sweet retirèd solitude,

Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,

That, in the various bustle of resort,

Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.380

He that has light within his own clear breast,

May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:

But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts

Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;

Himself is his own dungeon.

Sec. Bro.'Tis most true385That musing meditation most affectsThe pensive secrecy of desert-cell,Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,And sits as safe as in a senate-house;For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,390His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,Or do his grey hairs any violence?But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian treeLaden with blooming gold, had need the guardOf dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,395To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.You may as well spread out the unsunned heapsOf miser's treasure by an outlaw's den,And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope400Danger will wink on Opportunity,And let a single helpless maiden passUninjured in this wild surrounding waste.Of night or loneliness it recks me not;I fear the dread events that dog them both,405Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the personOf our unownèd sister.

Sec. Bro.'Tis most true385

That musing meditation most affects

The pensive secrecy of desert-cell,

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,

And sits as safe as in a senate-house;

For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,390

His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,

Or do his grey hairs any violence?

But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree

Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard

Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,395

To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,

From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.

You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps

Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den,

And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope400

Danger will wink on Opportunity,

And let a single helpless maiden pass

Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.

Of night or loneliness it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both,405

Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person

Of our unownèd sister.

Eld. Bro.I do not, brother,Infer as if I thought my sister's stateSecure without all doubt or controversy;Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear410Does arbitrate the event, my nature isThat I incline to hope rather than fear,And gladly banish squint suspicion.My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strength,415Which you remember not.

Eld. Bro.I do not, brother,

Infer as if I thought my sister's state

Secure without all doubt or controversy;

Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear410

Does arbitrate the event, my nature is

That I incline to hope rather than fear,

And gladly banish squint suspicion.

My sister is not so defenceless left

As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,415

Which you remember not.

Sec. Bro.What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?

Sec. Bro.What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?

Eld. Bro.I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;420She that has that, is clad in complete steel,And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths,Infámous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,425No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,Will dare to soil her virgin purity.Yea, there where very desolation dwells,By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,She may pass on with unblenched majesty,430Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.Some say no evil thing that walks by night,In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,435No goblin or swart faery of the mine,Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.Do ye believe me yet, or shall I callAntiquity from the old schools of GreeceTo testify the arms of chastity?440Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste,Wherewith she tamed the brinded lionessAnd spotted mountain-pard, but set at noughtThe frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men445Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shieldThat wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,But rigid looks of chaste austerity,450And noble grace that dashed brute violenceWith sudden adoration and blank awe?So dear to Heaven is saintly chastityThat, when a soul is found sincerely so,A thousand liveried angels lackey her,455Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,And in clear dream and solemn visionTell her of things that no gross ear can hear;Till oft converse with heavenly habitantsBegin to cast a beam on the outward shape,460The unpolluted temple of the mind,And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,Till all be made immortal. But, when lust,By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,465Lets in defilement to the inward parts,The soul grows clotted by contagion,Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loseThe divine property of her first being.Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp470Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,As loth to leave the body that it loved,And linked itself by carnal sensualityTo a degenerate and degraded state.475

Eld. Bro.I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,

Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.

'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;420

She that has that, is clad in complete steel,

And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,

May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths,

Infámous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;

Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,425

No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,

Will dare to soil her virgin purity.

Yea, there where very desolation dwells,

By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,

She may pass on with unblenched majesty,430

Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.

Some say no evil thing that walks by night,

In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,

Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,

That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,435

No goblin or swart faery of the mine,

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece

To testify the arms of chastity?440

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,

Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste,

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness

And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought

The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men445

Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield

That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,

Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,

But rigid looks of chaste austerity,450

And noble grace that dashed brute violence

With sudden adoration and blank awe?

So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity

That, when a soul is found sincerely so,

A thousand liveried angels lackey her,455

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,

And in clear dream and solemn vision

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear;

Till oft converse with heavenly habitants

Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,460

The unpolluted temple of the mind,

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,

Till all be made immortal. But, when lust,

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,465

Lets in defilement to the inward parts,

The soul grows clotted by contagion,

Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose

The divine property of her first being.

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp470

Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,

Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,

As loth to leave the body that it loved,

And linked itself by carnal sensuality

To a degenerate and degraded state.475

Sec. Bro.How charming is divine Philosophy!Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,But musical as is Apollo's lute,And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,Where no crude surfeit reigns.

Sec. Bro.How charming is divine Philosophy!

Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,

But musical as is Apollo's lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,

Where no crude surfeit reigns.

Eld. Bro.List! list! I hear480Some far-off hallo break the silent air.

Eld. Bro.List! list! I hear480

Some far-off hallo break the silent air.

Sec. Bro.Methought so too; what should it be?

Eld. Bro.For certain,Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst,Some roving robber calling to his fellows.485

Eld. Bro.For certain,

Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,

Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst,

Some roving robber calling to his fellows.485

Sec. Bro.Heaven keep my sister! Again, again, and near!Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

Sec. Bro.Heaven keep my sister! Again, again, and near!

Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

Eld. Bro.I'll hallo.If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!

Eld. Bro.I'll hallo.

If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,

Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!

Enter theAttendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd.

That hallo I should know. What are you? Speak!490Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.Spir.What voice is that? my young Lord? speak again.Sec. Bro.O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure.Eld. Bro.> Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayedThe huddling brook to hear his madrigal,495And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.How camest thou here, good swain? hath any ramSlipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook?500Spir.O my loved master's heir, and his next joy,I came not here on such a trivial toyAs a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealthOf pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealthThat doth enrich these downs is worth a thought505To this my errand, and the care it brought.But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?How chance she is not in your company?Eld. Bro.To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blameOr our neglect, we lost her as we came.510Spir.Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.Eld. Bro.What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly shew.Spir.I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,515Storied of old in high immortal verse,Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;For such there be, but unbelief is blind.Within the navel of this hideous wood,520Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries,And here to every thirsty wandererBy sly enticement gives his baneful cup,525With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poisonThe visage quite transforms of him that drinks,And the inglorious likeness of a beastFixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintageCharáctered in the face. This have I learnt530Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly croftsThat brow this bottom-glade; whence, night by night,He and his monstrous rout are heard to howlLike stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate535In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers.Yet have they many baits and guileful spellsTo inveigle and invite the unwary senseOf them that pass unweeting by the way.This evening late, by then the chewing flocks540Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herbOf knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,I sat me down to watch upon a bankWith ivy canopied, and interwoveWith flaunting honey-suckle, and began,545Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,To meditate my rural minstrelsy,Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close,The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,And filled the air with barbarous dissonance;550At which I ceased, and listened them a while,Till an unusual stop of sudden silenceGave respite to the drowsy-flighted steedsThat draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound555Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,And stole upon the air, that even SilenceWas took ere she was ware, and wished she mightDeny her nature, and be never more,Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,560And took in strains that might create a soulUnder the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere longToo well I did perceive it was the voiceOf my most honoured Lady, your dear sister.Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear;565And "O poor hapless nightingale," thought I,"How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!"Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,Through paths and turnings often trod by day,Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place570Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise(For so by certain signs I knew), had metAlready, ere my best speed could prevent,The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,Who gently asked if he had seen such two,575Supposing him some neighbour villager.Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessedYe were the two she meant; with that I sprungInto swift flight, till I had found you here,But further know I not.Sec. Bro.O night and shades,580How are ye joined with Hell in triple knotAgainst the unarmed weakness of one virgin,Alone and helpless! Is this the confidenceYou gave me, brother?Eld. Bro.Yes, and keep it still;Lean on it safely; not a period585Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threatsOf malice or of sorcery, or that powerWhich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled;590Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harmShall in the happy trial prove most glory.But evil on itself shall back recoil,And mix no more with goodness, when at last,Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,595It shall be in eternal restless changeSelf-fed, and self-consumed. If this fail,The pillared firmament is rottenness,And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on!Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven600May never this just sword be lifted up;But for that damned magician, let him be girtWith all the grisly legiöns that troopUnder the sooty flag of Acheron,Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms605'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out,And force him to return his purchase back,Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,Cursed as his life.Spir.Alas! good venturous youth,I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise;610But here thy sword can do thee little stead.Far other arms and other weapons mustBe those that quell the might of hellish charms.He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,And crumble all thy sinews.Eld. Bro.Why, prithee, Shepherd,615How durst thou then thyself approach so nearAs to make this relation?Spir.Care and utmost shiftsHow to secure the Lady from surprisalBrought to my mind a certain shepherd-lad,Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled620In every virtuous plant and healing herbThat spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;Which when I did, he on the tender grassWould sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy,625And in requital ope his leathern scrip,And show me simples of a thousand names,Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,But of divine effect, he culled me out.630The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,But in another country, as he said,Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil,Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swainTreads on it daily with his clouted shoon;635And yet more med'cinal is it than that MolyThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,And bade me keep it as of sovereign use'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast or damp,640Or ghastly Furies' apparitiön.I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,Till now that this extremity compelled.But now I find it true; for by this meansI knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,645Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,And yet came off. If you have this about you(As I will give you when we go), you mayBoldly assault the necromancer's hall;Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood650And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass,And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crewFierce sign of battle make, and menace high,Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke,655Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.Eld. Bro.Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee;And some good angel bear a shield before us!

That hallo I should know. What are you? Speak!490Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.

That hallo I should know. What are you? Speak!490

Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.

Spir.What voice is that? my young Lord? speak again.

Sec. Bro.O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure.

Eld. Bro.> Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayedThe huddling brook to hear his madrigal,495And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.How camest thou here, good swain? hath any ramSlipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook?500

Eld. Bro.> Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,495

And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.

How camest thou here, good swain? hath any ram

Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,

Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?

How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook?500

Spir.O my loved master's heir, and his next joy,I came not here on such a trivial toyAs a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealthOf pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealthThat doth enrich these downs is worth a thought505To this my errand, and the care it brought.But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?How chance she is not in your company?

Spir.O my loved master's heir, and his next joy,

I came not here on such a trivial toy

As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth

Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth

That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought505

To this my errand, and the care it brought.

But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?

How chance she is not in your company?

Eld. Bro.To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blameOr our neglect, we lost her as we came.510

Eld. Bro.To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame

Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.510

Spir.Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.

Eld. Bro.What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly shew.

Spir.I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,515Storied of old in high immortal verse,Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;For such there be, but unbelief is blind.Within the navel of this hideous wood,520Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries,And here to every thirsty wandererBy sly enticement gives his baneful cup,525With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poisonThe visage quite transforms of him that drinks,And the inglorious likeness of a beastFixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintageCharáctered in the face. This have I learnt530Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly croftsThat brow this bottom-glade; whence, night by night,He and his monstrous rout are heard to howlLike stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate535In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers.Yet have they many baits and guileful spellsTo inveigle and invite the unwary senseOf them that pass unweeting by the way.This evening late, by then the chewing flocks540Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herbOf knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,I sat me down to watch upon a bankWith ivy canopied, and interwoveWith flaunting honey-suckle, and began,545Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,To meditate my rural minstrelsy,Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close,The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,And filled the air with barbarous dissonance;550At which I ceased, and listened them a while,Till an unusual stop of sudden silenceGave respite to the drowsy-flighted steedsThat draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound555Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,And stole upon the air, that even SilenceWas took ere she was ware, and wished she mightDeny her nature, and be never more,Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,560And took in strains that might create a soulUnder the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere longToo well I did perceive it was the voiceOf my most honoured Lady, your dear sister.Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear;565And "O poor hapless nightingale," thought I,"How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!"Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,Through paths and turnings often trod by day,Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place570Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise(For so by certain signs I knew), had metAlready, ere my best speed could prevent,The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,Who gently asked if he had seen such two,575Supposing him some neighbour villager.Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessedYe were the two she meant; with that I sprungInto swift flight, till I had found you here,But further know I not.

Spir.I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous

(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)

What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,515

Storied of old in high immortal verse,

Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,

And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;

For such there be, but unbelief is blind.

Within the navel of this hideous wood,520

Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,

Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,

Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries,

And here to every thirsty wanderer

By sly enticement gives his baneful cup,525

With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,

And the inglorious likeness of a beast

Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage

Charáctered in the face. This have I learnt530

Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts

That brow this bottom-glade; whence, night by night,

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl

Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,

Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate535

In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers.

Yet have they many baits and guileful spells

To inveigle and invite the unwary sense

Of them that pass unweeting by the way.

This evening late, by then the chewing flocks540

Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb

Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,

I sat me down to watch upon a bank

With ivy canopied, and interwove

With flaunting honey-suckle, and began,545

Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,

To meditate my rural minstrelsy,

Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close,

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance;550

At which I ceased, and listened them a while,

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence

Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds

That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound555

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,

And stole upon the air, that even Silence

Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might

Deny her nature, and be never more,

Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,560

And took in strains that might create a soul

Under the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere long

Too well I did perceive it was the voice

Of my most honoured Lady, your dear sister.

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear;565

And "O poor hapless nightingale," thought I,

"How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!"

Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,

Through paths and turnings often trod by day,

Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place570

Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise

(For so by certain signs I knew), had met

Already, ere my best speed could prevent,

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,

Who gently asked if he had seen such two,575

Supposing him some neighbour villager.

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed

Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung

Into swift flight, till I had found you here,

But further know I not.

Sec. Bro.O night and shades,580How are ye joined with Hell in triple knotAgainst the unarmed weakness of one virgin,Alone and helpless! Is this the confidenceYou gave me, brother?

Sec. Bro.O night and shades,580

How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot

Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,

Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence

You gave me, brother?

Eld. Bro.Yes, and keep it still;Lean on it safely; not a period585Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threatsOf malice or of sorcery, or that powerWhich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled;590Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harmShall in the happy trial prove most glory.But evil on itself shall back recoil,And mix no more with goodness, when at last,Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,595It shall be in eternal restless changeSelf-fed, and self-consumed. If this fail,The pillared firmament is rottenness,And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on!Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven600May never this just sword be lifted up;But for that damned magician, let him be girtWith all the grisly legiöns that troopUnder the sooty flag of Acheron,Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms605'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out,And force him to return his purchase back,Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,Cursed as his life.

Eld. Bro.Yes, and keep it still;

Lean on it safely; not a period585

Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats

Of malice or of sorcery, or that power

Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:

Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,

Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled;590

Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm

Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.

But evil on itself shall back recoil,

And mix no more with goodness, when at last,

Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,595

It shall be in eternal restless change

Self-fed, and self-consumed. If this fail,

The pillared firmament is rottenness,

And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on!

Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven600

May never this just sword be lifted up;

But for that damned magician, let him be girt

With all the grisly legiöns that troop

Under the sooty flag of Acheron,

Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms605

'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out,

And force him to return his purchase back,

Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,

Cursed as his life.

Spir.Alas! good venturous youth,I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise;610But here thy sword can do thee little stead.Far other arms and other weapons mustBe those that quell the might of hellish charms.He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,And crumble all thy sinews.

Spir.Alas! good venturous youth,

I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise;610

But here thy sword can do thee little stead.

Far other arms and other weapons must

Be those that quell the might of hellish charms.

He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,

And crumble all thy sinews.

Eld. Bro.Why, prithee, Shepherd,615How durst thou then thyself approach so nearAs to make this relation?

Eld. Bro.Why, prithee, Shepherd,615

How durst thou then thyself approach so near

As to make this relation?

Spir.Care and utmost shiftsHow to secure the Lady from surprisalBrought to my mind a certain shepherd-lad,Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled620In every virtuous plant and healing herbThat spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;Which when I did, he on the tender grassWould sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy,625And in requital ope his leathern scrip,And show me simples of a thousand names,Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,But of divine effect, he culled me out.630The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,But in another country, as he said,Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil,Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swainTreads on it daily with his clouted shoon;635And yet more med'cinal is it than that MolyThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,And bade me keep it as of sovereign use'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast or damp,640Or ghastly Furies' apparitiön.I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,Till now that this extremity compelled.But now I find it true; for by this meansI knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,645Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,And yet came off. If you have this about you(As I will give you when we go), you mayBoldly assault the necromancer's hall;Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood650And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass,And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crewFierce sign of battle make, and menace high,Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke,655Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

Spir.Care and utmost shifts

How to secure the Lady from surprisal

Brought to my mind a certain shepherd-lad,

Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled620

In every virtuous plant and healing herb

That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.

He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;

Which when I did, he on the tender grass

Would sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy,625

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,

And show me simples of a thousand names,

Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,

But of divine effect, he culled me out.630

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,

But in another country, as he said,

Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil,

Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon;635

And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly

That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.

He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,

And bade me keep it as of sovereign use

'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast or damp,640

Or ghastly Furies' apparitiön.

I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,

Till now that this extremity compelled.

But now I find it true; for by this means

I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,645

Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,

And yet came off. If you have this about you

(As I will give you when we go), you may

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall;

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood650

And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass,

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;

But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crew

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,

Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke,655

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

Eld. Bro.Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee;And some good angel bear a shield before us!

Eld. Bro.Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee;

And some good angel bear a shield before us!

The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties.Comusappears with his rabble, and theLadyset in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

Comus.Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,660And you a statue, or as Daphne was,Root-bound, that fled Apollo.Lady.Fool, do not boast.Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mindWith all thy charms, although this corporal rindThou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.665Comus.Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gatesSorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasuresThat fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns670Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.And first behold this cordial julep here,That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone675In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,Is of such power to stir up joy as this,To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.Why should you be so cruel to yourself,And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent680For gentle usage and soft delicacy?But you invert the covenants of her trust,And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,With that which you received on other terms,Scorning the unexempt conditiön685By which all mortal frailty must subsist,Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,That have been tired all day without repast,And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,This will restore all soon.Lady.'Twill not, false traitor!690'Twill not restore the truth and honestyThat thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.Was this the cottage and the safe abodeThou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,These oughly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!695Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocenceWith vizored falsehood and base forgery?And wouldst thou seek again to trap me hereWith liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?700Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,I would not taste thy treasonous offer. NoneBut such as are good men can give good things;And that which is not good is not deliciousTo a well-governed and wise appetite.705Comus.O foolishness of men! that lend their earsTo those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth710With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,But all to please and sate the curious taste?And set to work millions of spinning worms,715That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,To deck her sons; and that no corner mightBe vacant of her plenty, in her own loinsShe hutched the all-worshiped ore and precious gems,To store her children with. If all the world720Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse,Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,Not half his riches known, and yet despised;And we should serve him as a grudging master,725As a penurious niggard of his wealth,And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons,Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,And strangled with her waste fertility;The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,730The herds would over-multitude their lords;The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamondsWould so emblaze the forehead of the deep,And so bestud with stars, that they belowWould grow inured to light, and come at last735To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozenedWith that same vaunted name, Virginity.Beauty is Nature's coin; must not be hoarded,But must be current; and the good thereof740Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself.If you let slip time, like a neglected roseIt withers on the stalk with languished head.Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown745In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,Where most may wonder at the workmanship.It is for homely features to keep home;They had their name thence; coarse complexionsAnd cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply750The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?There was another meaning in these gifts;Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet.755Lady.I had not thought to have unlocked my lipsIn this unhallowed air, but that this jugglerWould think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb.I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,760And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature,As if she would her children should be riotousWith her abundance. She, good cateress,Means her provision only to the good,765That live according to her sober laws,And holy dictate of spare Temperance.If every just man, that now pines with want,Had but a moderate and beseeming shareOf that which lewdly-pampered Luxury770Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,Nature's full blessings would be well dispensedIn unsuperfluous even proportiön,And she no whit encumbered with her store;And then the Giver would be better thanked,775His praise due paid: for swinish GluttonyNe'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,But with besotted base ingratitudeCrams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?Or have I said enow? To him that dares780Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous wordsAgainst the sun-clad power of Chastity,Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehendThe sublime notion and high mystery785That must be uttered to unfold the sageAnd serious doctrine of Virginity;And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not knowMore happiness than this thy present lot.Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,790That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worthOf this pure cause would kindle my rapt spiritsTo such a flame of sacred vehemence,795That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.Comus.She fables not. I feel that I do fear800Her words set off by some superior power;And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dewDips me all o'er, as when the wrath of JoveSpeaks thunder and the chains of ErebusTo some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,805And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more!This is mere moral babble, and directAgainst the canon-laws of our foundation.I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the leesAnd settlings of a melancholy blood.810But this will cure all straight; one sip of thisWill bathe the drooping spirits in delightBeyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.

Comus.Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,660And you a statue, or as Daphne was,Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

Comus.Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,

Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,660

And you a statue, or as Daphne was,

Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

Lady.Fool, do not boast.Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mindWith all thy charms, although this corporal rindThou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.665

Lady.Fool, do not boast.

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind

With all thy charms, although this corporal rind

Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.665

Comus.Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gatesSorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasuresThat fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns670Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.And first behold this cordial julep here,That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone675In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,Is of such power to stir up joy as this,To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.Why should you be so cruel to yourself,And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent680For gentle usage and soft delicacy?But you invert the covenants of her trust,And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,With that which you received on other terms,Scorning the unexempt conditiön685By which all mortal frailty must subsist,Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,That have been tired all day without repast,And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,This will restore all soon.

Comus.Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?

Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates

Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures

That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,

When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns670

Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.

And first behold this cordial julep here,

That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,

With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.

Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone675

In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,

Is of such power to stir up joy as this,

To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.

Why should you be so cruel to yourself,

And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent680

For gentle usage and soft delicacy?

But you invert the covenants of her trust,

And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,

With that which you received on other terms,

Scorning the unexempt conditiön685

By which all mortal frailty must subsist,

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,

That have been tired all day without repast,

And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,

This will restore all soon.

Lady.'Twill not, false traitor!690'Twill not restore the truth and honestyThat thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.Was this the cottage and the safe abodeThou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,These oughly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!695Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocenceWith vizored falsehood and base forgery?And wouldst thou seek again to trap me hereWith liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?700Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,I would not taste thy treasonous offer. NoneBut such as are good men can give good things;And that which is not good is not deliciousTo a well-governed and wise appetite.705

Lady.'Twill not, false traitor!690

'Twill not restore the truth and honesty

That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.

Was this the cottage and the safe abode

Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,

These oughly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!695

Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!

Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence

With vizored falsehood and base forgery?

And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here

With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?700

Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,

I would not taste thy treasonous offer. None

But such as are good men can give good things;

And that which is not good is not delicious

To a well-governed and wise appetite.705

Comus.O foolishness of men! that lend their earsTo those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth710With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,But all to please and sate the curious taste?And set to work millions of spinning worms,715That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,To deck her sons; and that no corner mightBe vacant of her plenty, in her own loinsShe hutched the all-worshiped ore and precious gems,To store her children with. If all the world720Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse,Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,Not half his riches known, and yet despised;And we should serve him as a grudging master,725As a penurious niggard of his wealth,And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons,Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,And strangled with her waste fertility;The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,730The herds would over-multitude their lords;The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamondsWould so emblaze the forehead of the deep,And so bestud with stars, that they belowWould grow inured to light, and come at last735To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozenedWith that same vaunted name, Virginity.Beauty is Nature's coin; must not be hoarded,But must be current; and the good thereof740Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself.If you let slip time, like a neglected roseIt withers on the stalk with languished head.Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown745In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,Where most may wonder at the workmanship.It is for homely features to keep home;They had their name thence; coarse complexionsAnd cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply750The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?There was another meaning in these gifts;Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet.755

Comus.O foolishness of men! that lend their ears

To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,

And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,

Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!

Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth710

With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,

Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,

Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,

But all to please and sate the curious taste?

And set to work millions of spinning worms,715

That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,

To deck her sons; and that no corner might

Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins

She hutched the all-worshiped ore and precious gems,

To store her children with. If all the world720

Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse,

Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,

The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,

Not half his riches known, and yet despised;

And we should serve him as a grudging master,725

As a penurious niggard of his wealth,

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons,

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,

And strangled with her waste fertility;

The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,730

The herds would over-multitude their lords;

The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds

Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,

And so bestud with stars, that they below

Would grow inured to light, and come at last735

To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.

List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozened

With that same vaunted name, Virginity.

Beauty is Nature's coin; must not be hoarded,

But must be current; and the good thereof740

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,

Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself.

If you let slip time, like a neglected rose

It withers on the stalk with languished head.

Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown745

In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,

Where most may wonder at the workmanship.

It is for homely features to keep home;

They had their name thence; coarse complexions

And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply750

The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.

What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?

There was another meaning in these gifts;

Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet.755

Lady.I had not thought to have unlocked my lipsIn this unhallowed air, but that this jugglerWould think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb.I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,760And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature,As if she would her children should be riotousWith her abundance. She, good cateress,Means her provision only to the good,765That live according to her sober laws,And holy dictate of spare Temperance.If every just man, that now pines with want,Had but a moderate and beseeming shareOf that which lewdly-pampered Luxury770Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,Nature's full blessings would be well dispensedIn unsuperfluous even proportiön,And she no whit encumbered with her store;And then the Giver would be better thanked,775His praise due paid: for swinish GluttonyNe'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,But with besotted base ingratitudeCrams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?Or have I said enow? To him that dares780Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous wordsAgainst the sun-clad power of Chastity,Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehendThe sublime notion and high mystery785That must be uttered to unfold the sageAnd serious doctrine of Virginity;And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not knowMore happiness than this thy present lot.Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,790That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worthOf this pure cause would kindle my rapt spiritsTo such a flame of sacred vehemence,795That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.

Lady.I had not thought to have unlocked my lips

In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler

Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,

Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb.

I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,760

And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.

Impostor! do not charge most innocent Nature,

As if she would her children should be riotous

With her abundance. She, good cateress,

Means her provision only to the good,765

That live according to her sober laws,

And holy dictate of spare Temperance.

If every just man, that now pines with want,

Had but a moderate and beseeming share

Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury770

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,

Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed

In unsuperfluous even proportiön,

And she no whit encumbered with her store;

And then the Giver would be better thanked,775

His praise due paid: for swinish Gluttony

Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,

But with besotted base ingratitude

Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?

Or have I said enow? To him that dares780

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words

Against the sun-clad power of Chastity,

Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?

Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend

The sublime notion and high mystery785

That must be uttered to unfold the sage

And serious doctrine of Virginity;

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know

More happiness than this thy present lot.

Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,790

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.

Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worth

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits

To such a flame of sacred vehemence,795

That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,

And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,

Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,

Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.

Comus.She fables not. I feel that I do fear800Her words set off by some superior power;And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dewDips me all o'er, as when the wrath of JoveSpeaks thunder and the chains of ErebusTo some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,805And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more!This is mere moral babble, and directAgainst the canon-laws of our foundation.I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the leesAnd settlings of a melancholy blood.810But this will cure all straight; one sip of thisWill bathe the drooping spirits in delightBeyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.

Comus.She fables not. I feel that I do fear800

Her words set off by some superior power;

And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew

Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove

Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus

To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,805

And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more!

This is mere moral babble, and direct

Against the canon-laws of our foundation.

I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the lees

And settlings of a melancholy blood.810

But this will cure all straight; one sip of this

Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight

Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.

TheBrothersrush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. TheAttendant Spiritcomes in.

Spir.What! have you let the false enchanter scape?Oh, ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand,815And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,And backward mutters of dissevering power,We cannot free the Lady that sits hereIn stony fetters fixed, and motionless.Yet stay: be not disturbed; now I bethink me,820Some other means I have which may be used,Which once of Melibœus old I learnt,The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains.There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream:825Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure;Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,That had the sceptre from his father Brute.She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuitOf her enragèd stepdame, Guendolen,830Commended her fair innocence to the flood,That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in,Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall;835Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,And gave her to his daughters to imbatheIn nectared lavers strewed with asphodil,And through the porch and inlet of each senseDropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived,840And underwent a quick immortal change,Made Goddess of the river. Still she retainsHer maiden gentleness, and oft at eveVisits the herds along the twilight meadows,Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs845That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,Which she with precious vialed liquors heals;For which the shepherds at their festivalsCarol her goodness loud in rustic lays,And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream850Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.And, as the old swain said, she can unlockThe clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,If she be right invoked in warbled song;For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift855To aid a virgin, such as was herself,In hard-besetting need. This will I try,And add the power of some adjuring verse.

Spir.What! have you let the false enchanter scape?

Oh, ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand,815

And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,

And backward mutters of dissevering power,

We cannot free the Lady that sits here

In stony fetters fixed, and motionless.

Yet stay: be not disturbed; now I bethink me,820

Some other means I have which may be used,

Which once of Melibœus old I learnt,

The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains.

There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,

That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream:825

Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure;

Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,

That had the sceptre from his father Brute.

She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit

Of her enragèd stepdame, Guendolen,830

Commended her fair innocence to the flood,

That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.

The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,

Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in,

Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall;835

Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,

And gave her to his daughters to imbathe

In nectared lavers strewed with asphodil,

And through the porch and inlet of each sense

Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived,840

And underwent a quick immortal change,

Made Goddess of the river. Still she retains

Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve

Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,

Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs845

That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,

Which she with precious vialed liquors heals;

For which the shepherds at their festivals

Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream850

Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.

And, as the old swain said, she can unlock

The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,

If she be right invoked in warbled song;

For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift855

To aid a virgin, such as was herself,

In hard-besetting need. This will I try,

And add the power of some adjuring verse.

Song.

Sabrina fair,Listen where thou art sitting860Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of lilies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;Listen for dear honour's sake,Goddess of the silver lake,865Listen and save!Listen and appear to us,In name of great Oceanus.By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,And Tethy's grave majestic pace;870By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,And the Carpathian wizard's hook;By scaly Triton's winding shell,And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;By Leucothea's lovely hands,875And her son that rules the strands;By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,And the songs of Sirens sweet;By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,And fair Ligea's golden comb,880Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,Sleeking her soft alluring locks;By all the nymphs that nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance;Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head885From thy coral-paven bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!

Sabrina fair,

Listen where thou art sitting860

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of lilies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;

Listen for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,865

Listen and save!

Listen and appear to us,In name of great Oceanus.By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,And Tethy's grave majestic pace;870By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,And the Carpathian wizard's hook;By scaly Triton's winding shell,And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;By Leucothea's lovely hands,875And her son that rules the strands;By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,And the songs of Sirens sweet;By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,And fair Ligea's golden comb,880Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,Sleeking her soft alluring locks;By all the nymphs that nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance;Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head885From thy coral-paven bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!

Listen and appear to us,

In name of great Oceanus.

By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,

And Tethy's grave majestic pace;870

By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,

And the Carpathian wizard's hook;

By scaly Triton's winding shell,

And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;

By Leucothea's lovely hands,875

And her son that rules the strands;

By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,

And the songs of Sirens sweet;

By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,

And fair Ligea's golden comb,880

Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,

Sleeking her soft alluring locks;

By all the nymphs that nightly dance

Upon thy streams with wily glance;

Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head885

From thy coral-paven bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answered have.

Listen and save!

Sabrinarises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings.

By the rushy-fringèd bank,890Where grows the willow and the osier dank,My sliding chariot stays,Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheenOf turkis blue, and emerald green,That in the channel strays;895Whilst, from off the waters fleet,Thus I set my printless feetO'er the cowslip's velvet head,That bends not as I tread.Gentle swain, at thy request900I am here!

By the rushy-fringèd bank,890

Where grows the willow and the osier dank,

My sliding chariot stays,

Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen

Of turkis blue, and emerald green,

That in the channel strays;895

Whilst, from off the waters fleet,

Thus I set my printless feet

O'er the cowslip's velvet head,

That bends not as I tread.

Gentle swain, at thy request900

I am here!

Spir.Goddess dear,We implore thy powerful handTo undo the charmèd bandOf true virgin here distrest905Through the force and through the wileOf unblest enchanter vile.Sabr.Shepherd, 'tis my office blestTo help ensnarèd chastity.Brightest Lady, look on me.910Thus I sprinkle on thy breastDrops that from my fountain pureI have kept of precious cure;Thrice upon thy finger's tip,Thrice upon thy rubied lip;915Next this marble venomed seat,Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.Now the spell hath lost his hold;And I must haste ere morning hour920To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

Spir.Goddess dear,We implore thy powerful handTo undo the charmèd bandOf true virgin here distrest905Through the force and through the wileOf unblest enchanter vile.

Spir.Goddess dear,

We implore thy powerful hand

To undo the charmèd band

Of true virgin here distrest905

Through the force and through the wile

Of unblest enchanter vile.

Sabr.Shepherd, 'tis my office blestTo help ensnarèd chastity.Brightest Lady, look on me.910Thus I sprinkle on thy breastDrops that from my fountain pureI have kept of precious cure;Thrice upon thy finger's tip,Thrice upon thy rubied lip;915Next this marble venomed seat,Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.Now the spell hath lost his hold;And I must haste ere morning hour920To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

Sabr.Shepherd, 'tis my office blest

To help ensnarèd chastity.

Brightest Lady, look on me.910

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast

Drops that from my fountain pure

I have kept of precious cure;

Thrice upon thy finger's tip,

Thrice upon thy rubied lip;915

Next this marble venomed seat,

Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,

I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.

Now the spell hath lost his hold;

And I must haste ere morning hour920

To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

Sabrinadescends, and theLadyrises out of her seat.

Spir.Virgin, daughter of Locrine,Sprung of old Anchises' line,May thy brimmèd waves for thisTheir full tribute never miss925From a thousand petty rills,That tumble down the snowy hills;Summer drouth, or singèd airNever scorch thy tresses fair,Nor wet October's torrent flood930Thy molten crystal fill with mud;May thy billows roll ashoreThe beryl, and the golden ore;May thy lofty head be crownedWith many a tower and terrace round,935And here and there thy banks uponWith groves of myrrh and cinnamon.Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace,Let us fly this cursed place,Lest the sorcerer us entice940With some other new device.Not a waste or needless sound,Till we come to holier ground.I shall be your faithful guideThrough this gloomy covert wide;945And not many furlongs thenceIs your Father's residence,Where this night are met in stateMany a friend to gratulateHis wished presence, and beside950All the swains that there abideWith jigs, and rural dance resort.We shall catch them at their sport,And our sudden coming thereWill double all their mirth and cheer.955Come, let us haste; the stars grow high,But Night sits monarch yet in the mid-sky.

Spir.Virgin, daughter of Locrine,

Sprung of old Anchises' line,

May thy brimmèd waves for this

Their full tribute never miss925

From a thousand petty rills,

That tumble down the snowy hills;

Summer drouth, or singèd air

Never scorch thy tresses fair,

Nor wet October's torrent flood930

Thy molten crystal fill with mud;

May thy billows roll ashore

The beryl, and the golden ore;

May thy lofty head be crowned

With many a tower and terrace round,935

And here and there thy banks upon

With groves of myrrh and cinnamon.

Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace,

Let us fly this cursed place,

Lest the sorcerer us entice940

With some other new device.

Not a waste or needless sound,

Till we come to holier ground.

I shall be your faithful guide

Through this gloomy covert wide;945

And not many furlongs thence

Is your Father's residence,

Where this night are met in state

Many a friend to gratulate

His wished presence, and beside950

All the swains that there abide

With jigs, and rural dance resort.

We shall catch them at their sport,

And our sudden coming there

Will double all their mirth and cheer.955

Come, let us haste; the stars grow high,

But Night sits monarch yet in the mid-sky.

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the President's castle; then come in country dancers; after them theAttendant Spirit, with theTwo Brothersand theLady.

Song.

Spir.Back, shepherds, back! enough your play,Till next sunshine holiday.Here be, without duck or nod,960Other trippings to be trodOf lighter toes, and such court-guiseAs Mercury did first deviseWith the mincing DryadesOn the lawns and on the leas.965

Spir.Back, shepherds, back! enough your play,

Till next sunshine holiday.

Here be, without duck or nod,960

Other trippings to be trod

Of lighter toes, and such court-guise

As Mercury did first devise

With the mincing Dryades

On the lawns and on the leas.965

This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother.

Noble Lord, and Lady bright,I have brought ye new delight.Here behold so goodly grownThree fair branches of your own.Heaven hath timely tried their youth,970Their faith, their patience, and their truth,And sent them here through hard assaysWith a crown of deathless praise,To triumph in victorious danceO'er sensual folly and intemperance.975

Noble Lord, and Lady bright,

I have brought ye new delight.

Here behold so goodly grown

Three fair branches of your own.

Heaven hath timely tried their youth,970

Their faith, their patience, and their truth,

And sent them here through hard assays

With a crown of deathless praise,

To triumph in victorious dance

O'er sensual folly and intemperance.975

The dances ended, theSpiritepiloguizes.

Spir.To the ocean now I fly,And those happy climes that lieWhere day never shuts his eye,Up in the broad fields of the sky.There I suck the liquid air,980All amidst the gardens fairOf Hesperus, and his daughters threeThat sing about the golden tree.Along the crispèd shades and bowersRevels the spruce and jocund Spring;985The Graces and the rosy-bosomed HoursThither all their bounties bring.There eternal Summer dwells,And west-winds with musky wingAbout the cedarn alleys fling990Nard and cassia's balmy smells.Iris there with humid bowWaters the odorous banks, that blowFlowers of more mingled hueThan her purfled scarf can shew,995And drenches with Elysian dew(List, mortals, if your ears be true)Beds of hyacinth and roses,Where young Adonis oft reposes,Waxing well of his deep wound,1000In slumber soft, and on the groundSadly sits the Assyrian queen.But far above, in spangled sheen,Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advancedHolds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced1005After her wandering labours long,Till free consent the gods amongMake her his eternal bride,And from her fair unspotted sideTwo blissful twins are to be born,1010Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.But now my task is smoothly done,I can fly, or I can runQuickly to the green earth's end,Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015And from thence can soar as soonTo the corners of the moon.Mortals, that would follow me,Love Virtue; she alone is free.She can teach ye how to climb1020Higher than the sphery chime;Or, if Virtue feeble were,Heaven itself would stoop to her.

Spir.To the ocean now I fly,

And those happy climes that lie

Where day never shuts his eye,

Up in the broad fields of the sky.

There I suck the liquid air,980

All amidst the gardens fair

Of Hesperus, and his daughters three

That sing about the golden tree.

Along the crispèd shades and bowers

Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;985

The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours

Thither all their bounties bring.

There eternal Summer dwells,

And west-winds with musky wing

About the cedarn alleys fling990

Nard and cassia's balmy smells.

Iris there with humid bow

Waters the odorous banks, that blow

Flowers of more mingled hue

Than her purfled scarf can shew,995

And drenches with Elysian dew

(List, mortals, if your ears be true)

Beds of hyacinth and roses,

Where young Adonis oft reposes,

Waxing well of his deep wound,1000

In slumber soft, and on the ground

Sadly sits the Assyrian queen.

But far above, in spangled sheen,

Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced

Holds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced1005

After her wandering labours long,

Till free consent the gods among

Make her his eternal bride,

And from her fair unspotted side

Two blissful twins are to be born,1010

Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.

But now my task is smoothly done,I can fly, or I can runQuickly to the green earth's end,Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015And from thence can soar as soonTo the corners of the moon.

But now my task is smoothly done,

I can fly, or I can run

Quickly to the green earth's end,

Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,1015

And from thence can soar as soon

To the corners of the moon.

Mortals, that would follow me,Love Virtue; she alone is free.She can teach ye how to climb1020Higher than the sphery chime;Or, if Virtue feeble were,Heaven itself would stoop to her.

Mortals, that would follow me,

Love Virtue; she alone is free.

She can teach ye how to climb1020

Higher than the sphery chime;

Or, if Virtue feeble were,

Heaven itself would stoop to her.

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