diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:14:54 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:14:54 -0700 |
| commit | 749be1b89860fd22396a1a153b3e8b5905942e0f (patch) | |
| tree | cac6c92af4fecf8d2bab294090551249e0e1f8f1 /397.txt | |
Diffstat (limited to '397.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 397.txt | 2100 |
1 files changed, 2100 insertions, 0 deletions
@@ -0,0 +1,2100 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas, by +John Milton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas + +Author: John Milton + +Posting Date: July 20, 2008 [EBook #397] +Release Date: January 1995 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS *** + + + + +Produced by Edward A. Malone + + + + + + + + + L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS, AND LYCIDAS + + By + + John Milton + + + + L'ALLEGRO + + + HENCE, loathed Melancholy, + ............Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born + In Stygian cave forlorn + ............'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights + unholy! + Find out some uncouth cell, + ............Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, + And the night-raven sings; + ............There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, + As ragged as thy locks, + ............In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. + But come, thou Goddess fair and free, + In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, + And by men heart-easing Mirth; + Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, + With two sister Graces more, + To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: + Or whether (as some sager sing) + The frolic wind that breathes the spring, + Zephyr, with Aurora playing, + As he met her once a-Maying, + There, on beds of violets blue, + And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, + Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, + So buxom, blithe, and debonair. + Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee + Jest, and youthful Jollity, + Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, + Nods and becks and wreathed smiles + Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, + And love to live in dimple sleek; + Sport that wrinkled Care derides, + And Laughter holding both his sides. + Come, and trip it, as you go, + On the light fantastic toe; + And in thy right hand lead with thee + The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty; + And, if I give thee honour due, + Mirth, admit me of thy crew, + To live with her, and live with thee, + In unreproved pleasures free: + To hear the lark begin his flight, + And, singing, startle the dull night, + From his watch-tower in the skies, + Till the dappled dawn doth rise; + Then to come, in spite of sorrow, + And at my window bid good-morrow, + Through the sweet-briar or the vine, + Or the twisted eglantine; + While the cock, with lively din, + Scatters the rear of darkness thin, + And to the stack, or the barn-door, + Stoutly struts his dames before: + Oft listening how the hounds and horn + Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, + From the side of some hoar hill, + Through the high wood echoing shrill: + Sometime walking, not unseen, + By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, + Right against the eastern gate + Where the great Sun begins his state, + Robed in flames and amber light, + The clouds in thousand liveries dight; + While the ploughman, near at hand, + Whistles o'er the furrowed land, + And the milkmaid singeth blithe, + And the mower whets his scythe, + And every shepherd tells his tale + Under the hawthorn in the dale. + Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, + Whilst the landskip round it measures: + Russet lawns, and fallows grey, + Where the nibbling flocks do stray; + Mountains on whose barren breast + The labouring clouds do often rest; + Meadows trim, with daisies pied; + Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; + Towers and battlements it sees + Bosomed high in tufted trees, + Where perhaps some beauty lies, + The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. + Hard by a cottage chimney smokes + From betwixt two aged oaks, + Where Corydon and Thyrsis met + Are at their savoury dinner set + Of herbs and other country messes, + Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses; + And then in haste her bower she leaves, + With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; + Or, if the earlier season lead, + To the tanned haycock in the mead. + Sometimes, with secure delight, + The upland hamlets will invite, + When the merry bells ring round, + And the jocund rebecks sound + To many a youth and many a maid + Dancing in the chequered shade, + And young and old come forth to play + On a sunshine holiday, + Till the livelong daylight fail: + Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, + With stories told of many a feat, + How Faery Mab the junkets eat. + She was pinched and pulled, she said; + And he, by Friar's lantern led, + Tells how the drudging goblin sweat + To earn his cream-bowl duly set, + When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, + His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn + That ten day-labourers could not end; + Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, + And, stretched out all the chimney's length, + Basks at the fire his hairy strength, + And crop-full out of doors he flings, + Ere the first cock his matin rings. + Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, + By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. + Towered cities please us then, + And the busy hum of men, + Where throngs of knights and barons bold, + In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold + With store of ladies, whose bright eyes + Rain influence, and judge the prize + Of wit or arms, while both contend + To win her grace whom all commend. + There let Hymen oft appear + In saffron robe, with taper clear, + And pomp, and feast, and revelry, + With mask and antique pageantry; + Such sights as youthful poets dream + On summer eves by haunted stream. + Then to the well-trod stage anon, + If Jonson's learned sock be on, + Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, + Warble his native wood-notes wild. + And ever, against eating cares, + Lap me in soft Lydian airs, + Married to immortal verse, + Such as the meeting soul may pierce, + In notes with many a winding bout + Of linked sweetness long drawn out + With wanton heed and giddy cunning, + The melting voice through mazes running, + Untwisting all the chains that tie + The hidden soul of harmony; + That Orpheus' self may heave his head + From golden slumber on a bed + Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear + Such strains as would have won the ear + Of Pluto to have quite set free + His half-regained Eurydice. + These delights if thou canst give, + Mirth, with thee I mean to live. + + + + IL PENSEROSO + + + HENCE, vain deluding Joys, + ............The brood of Folly without father bred! + How little you bested + ............Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! + Dwell in some idle brain, + ............And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, + As thick and numberless + ............As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, + Or likest hovering dreams, + ............The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. + But, hail! thou Goddess sage and holy! + Hail, divinest Melancholy! + Whose saintly visage is too bright + To hit the sense of human sight, + And therefore to our weaker view + O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; + Black, but such as in esteem + Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, + Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove + To set her beauty's praise above + The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended. + Yet thou art higher far descended: + Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore + To solitary Saturn bore; + His daughter she; in Saturn's reign + Such mixture was not held a stain. + Oft in glimmering bowers and glades + He met her, and in secret shades + Of woody Ida's inmost grove, + Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. + Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, + Sober, steadfast, and demure, + All in a robe of darkest grain, + Flowing with majestic train, + And sable stole of cypress lawn + Over thy decent shoulders drawn. + Come; but keep thy wonted state, + With even step, and musing gait, + And looks commercing with the skies, + Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: + There, held in holy passion still, + Forget thyself to marble, till + With a sad leaden downward cast + Thou fix them on the earth as fast. + And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, + Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, + And hears the Muses in a ring + Aye round about Jove's altar sing; + And add to these retired Leisure, + That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; + But, first and chiefest, with thee bring + Him that yon soars on golden wing, + Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, + The Cherub Contemplation; + And the mute Silence hist along, + 'Less Philomel will deign a song, + In her sweetest saddest plight, + Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, + While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke + Gently o'er the accustomed oak. + Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, + Most musical, most melancholy! + Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among + I woo, to hear thy even-song; + And, missing thee, I walk unseen + On the dry smooth-shaven green, + To behold the wandering moon, + Riding near her highest noon, + Like one that had been led astray + Through the heaven's wide pathless way, + And oft, as if her head she bowed, + Stooping through a fleecy cloud. + Oft, on a plat of rising ground, + I hear the far-off curfew sound, + Over some wide-watered shore, + Swinging slow with sullen roar; + Or, if the air will not permit, + Some still removed place will fit, + Where glowing embers through the room + Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, + Far from all resort of mirth, + Save the cricket on the hearth, + Or the bellman's drowsy charm + To bless the doors from nightly harm. + Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, + Be seen in some high lonely tower, + Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, + With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere + The spirit of Plato, to unfold + What worlds or what vast regions hold + The immortal mind that hath forsook + Her mansion in this fleshly nook; + And of those demons that are found + In fire, air, flood, or underground, + Whose power hath a true consent + With planet or with element. + Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy + In sceptred pall come sweeping by, + Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, + Or the tale of Troy divine, + Or what (though rare) of later age + Ennobled hath the buskined stage. + But, O sad Virgin! that thy power + Might raise Musaeus from his bower; + Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing + Such notes as, warbled to the string, + Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, + And made Hell grant what love did seek; + Or call up him that left half-told + The story of Cambuscan bold, + Of Camball, and of Algarsife, + And who had Canace to wife, + That owned the virtuous ring and glass, + And of the wondrous horse of brass + On which the Tartar king did ride; + And if aught else great bards beside + In sage and solemn tunes have sung, + Of turneys, and of trophies hung, + Of forests, and enchantments drear, + Where more is meant than meets the ear. + Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, + Till civil-suited Morn appear, + Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont + With the Attic boy to hunt, + But kerchieft in a comely cloud + While rocking winds are piping loud, + Or ushered with a shower still, + When the gust hath blown his fill, + Ending on the rustling leaves, + With minute-drops from off the eaves. + And, when the sun begins to fling + His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring + To arched walks of twilight groves, + And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, + Of pine, or monumental oak, + Where the rude axe with heaved stroke + Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, + Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. + There, in close covert, by some brook, + Where no profaner eye may look, + Hide me from day's garish eye, + While the bee with honeyed thigh, + That at her flowery work doth sing, + And the waters murmuring, + With such consort as they keep, + Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. + And let some strange mysterious dream + Wave at his wings, in airy stream + Of lively portraiture displayed, + Softly on my eyelids laid; + And, as I wake, sweet music breathe + Above, about, or underneath, + Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, + Or the unseen Genius of the wood. + But let my due feet never fail + To walk the studious cloister's pale, + And love the high embowed roof, + With antique pillars massy proof, + And storied windows richly dight, + Casting a dim religious light. + There let the pealing organ blow, + To the full-voiced quire below, + In service high and anthems clear, + As may with sweetness, through mine ear, + Dissolve me into ecstasies, + And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. + And may at last my weary age + Find out the peaceful hermitage, + The hairy gown and mossy cell, + Where I may sit and rightly spell + Of every star that heaven doth shew, + And every herb that sips the dew, + Till old experience do attain + To something like prophetic strain. + These pleasures, Melancholy, give; + And I with thee will choose to live. + + + + COMUS + + + A MASQUE PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE, 1634, BEFORE + + THE EARL OF BRIDGEWATER, THEN PRESIDENT OF WALES. + + The Persons + + The ATTENDANT SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of THYRSIS. + 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. + The ATTENDANT SPIRIT descends or enters. + + + 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 spot + 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 + Amongst the enthroned 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, + 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, + Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles + That, like to rich and various gems, inlay + The unadorned bosom of the deep; + Which he, to grace his tributary gods, + By course commits to several government, + 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 sun + 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, + 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, + 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. + Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape + Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, + After the Tuscan mariners transformed, + Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, + On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe, + 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, + 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, + 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, + To quench the drouth of Phoebus; 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, + 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, + 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 star + 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, + 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 aid + Of this occasion. But I hear the tread + Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now. + + + COMUS enters, 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 fold + Now the top of heaven doth hold; + And the gilded car of day + 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 goal + 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, + 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. + 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, + 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, + 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 rights begin; + 'T is 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, + 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 befriend + 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, + 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 pace + 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, + 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 spongy air, + Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, + 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, + 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, + 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. + + The LADY enters. + + LADY. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, + 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, + 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 feet + 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-side + To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit + As the kind hospitable woods provide. + They left me then when the grey-hooded Even, + Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, + Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. + 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, + 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? + 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 fantasies + 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 astound + 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! + 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. . . . + 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. + 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 unseen + 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: + Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair + That likest thy Narcissus are? + O, if thou have + Hid them in some flowery cave, + Tell me but where, + Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere! + So may'st thou be translated to the skies, + And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies! + + + COMUS. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould + Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? + 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, + 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, + 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, + 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! + 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. + 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 Echo + To give me answer from her mossy couch. + COMUS: What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus? + LADY. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth. + COMUS. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides? + LADY. They left me weary on a grassy turf. + 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. + 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. + 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, + 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, + And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook, + And, as I passed, I worshiped. 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? + 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. + 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, + 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 safe + 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 halls + And courts of princes, where it first was named, + And yet is most pretended. In a place + Less warranted than this, or less secure, + I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. + Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial + To my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on. + + The TWO 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 here + In double night of darkness and of shades; + 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, + And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, + Or Tyrian Cynosure. + 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 oaten stops, + Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock + Count the night-watches to his feathery dames, + 'T would be some solace yet, some little cheering, + In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. + But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister! + 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. + 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-exquisite + To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; + 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! + 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) + 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 self + Oft seeks to sweet retired 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. + 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 true + 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, + 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 + 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 hope + 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, + Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person + Of our unowned sister. + 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 fear + 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, + Which 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: + She that has that is clad in complete steel, + And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen, + May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths, + Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds; + Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, + 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, + 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, + 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? + 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 men + 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, + 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, + 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, + 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, + Lets in defilement to the inward parts, + The soul grows clotted by contagion, + Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose + The divine property of her first being. + Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp + 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 sensualty + To a degenerate and degraded state. + 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 hear + 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. + 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! + + The ATTENDANT SPIRIT, habited like a shepherd. + + That hallo I should know. What are you? speak. + Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else. + SPIR. What voice is that? my young Lord? speak again. + SEC. BRO. O brother, 't is my father's Shepherd, sure. + ELD. BRO. Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed + The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, + 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? + 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 thought + 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 blame + Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. + SPIR. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. + ELD. BRO. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly + shew. + SPIR. I'll tell ye. 'T is not vain or fabulous + (Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance) + What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, + 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, + 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, + 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 + Charactered in the face. This have I learnt + 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 abhorred rites to Hecate + In their obscured 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 flocks + 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 honeysuckle, and began, + 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; + At which I ceased, and listened them awhile, + 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 sound + 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, + 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; + 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 place + 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, + 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, + 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 period + 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; + 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, + 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 heaven + May never this just sword be lifted up; + But, for that damned magician, let him be girt + With all the grisly legions that troop + Under the sooty flag of Acheron, + Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms + '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; + 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, + How durst thou then thyself approach so near + As to make this relation? + 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 skilled + 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 even to ecstasy, + 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. + 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; + And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly + That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave. + He called it Haemony, and gave it me, + And bade me keep it as of sovran use + 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, + Or ghastly Furies' apparition. + 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, + 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 hardihood + 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, + 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! + + The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of + deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus + appears with his rabble, and the LADY set 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, + 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 mind + With all thy charms, although this corporal rind + Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. + COMUS. Why are you vexed, 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 returns + 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 Thone + 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 lent + 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 condition + 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. 'T will not, false + traitor! + 'T will 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! + Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver! + Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence + With vizored falsehood and base forgery? + And would'st thou seek again to trap me here + With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? + 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. + 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 forth + 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, + 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-worshipped ore and precious gems, + To store her children with. If all the world + 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, + 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, + 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 last + 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 thereof + 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 shown + 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 ply + 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. + 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 + 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, + 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 Luxury + Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, + Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed + In unsuperfluous even proportion, + And she no whit encumbered with her store; + And then the Giver would be better thanked, + 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 dares + 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 mystery + 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, + That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence; + Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced. + Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth + Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits + To such a flame of sacred vehemence + That dumb things would be moved to sympathise, + 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 fear + 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, + 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 't is but the lees + And settlings of a melancholy blood. + 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. + + The BROTHERS rush 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. The ATTENDANT SPIRIT comes in. + + SPIR. What! have you let the false enchanter scape? + O ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand, + 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, + Some other means I have which may be used, + Which once of Meliboeus 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: + 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 enraged stepdame, Guendolen, + 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 pearled wrists, and took her in, + Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall; + 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, + 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 signs + 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 stream + 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 swift + 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 sitting + 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, + Listen and save! + + Listen, and appear to us, + In name of great Oceanus. + By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, + And Tethys' grave majestic pace; + 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, + 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, + 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 head + From thy coral-paven bed, + And bridle in thy headlong wave, + Till thou our summons answered have. + Listen and save! + + SABRINA rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings. + + By the rushy-fringed bank, + 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; + 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 request + I am here! + + SPIR. Goddess dear, + We implore thy powerful hand + To undo the charmed band + Of true virgin here distressed + Through the force and through the wile + Of unblessed enchanter vile. + SABR. Shepherd, 't is my office best + To help ensnared chastity. + Brightest Lady, look on me. + 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: + 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 hour + To wait in Amphitrite's bower. + + SABRINA descends, and the LADY rises out of her seat. + + SPIR. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, + Sprung of old Anchises' line, + May thy brimmed waves for this + Their full tribute never miss + From a thousand petty rills, + That tumble down the snowy hills: + Summer drouth or singed air + Never scorch thy tresses fair, + Nor wet October's torrent flood + 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, + 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 entice + 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; + 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 beside + 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. + 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 the ATTENDANT + SPIRIT, with the two BROTHERS and the LADY. + + SONG. + + SPIR. Back, shepherds, back! Enough your play + Till next sun-shine holiday. + Here be, without duck or nod, + 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. + + The second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. + + 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, + 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. + + The dances ended, the SPIRIT epiloguizes. + + 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, + All amidst the gardens fair + Of Hesperus, and his daughters three + That sing about the golden tree. + Along the crisped shades and bowers + Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; + 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 fling + 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, + 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, + 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 entranced + 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, + Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn. + 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, + 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 climb + Higher than the sphery chime; + Or, if Virtue feeble were, + Heaven itself would stoop to her. + + + + + LYCIDAS + + + In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately + drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637; + and, + by occasion, foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in + their height. + + + YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, + Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, + I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, + And with forced fingers rude + Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. + Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear + Compels me to disturb your season due; + For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, + Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. + Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew + Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. + He must not float upon his watery bier + Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, + Without the meed of some melodious tear. + Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well + That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; + Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. + Hence with denial vain and coy excuse: + So may some gentle Muse + With lucky words favour my destined urn, + And as he passes turn, + And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud! + For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, + Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; + Together both, ere the high lawns appeared + Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, + We drove a-field, and both together heard + What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn, + Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, + Oft till the star that rose at evening bright + Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. + Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute; + Tempered to the oaten flute, + Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel + From the glad sound would not be absent long; + And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. + But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone, + Now thou art gone and never must return! + Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, + With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, + And all their echoes, mourn. + The willows, and the hazel copses green, + Shall now no more be seen + Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. + As killing as the canker to the rose, + Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, + Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, + When first the white-thorn blows; + Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. + Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep + Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas? + For neither were ye playing on the steep + Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, + Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, + Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. + Ay me! I fondly dream + RHad ye been there, S . . . for what could that have done? + What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, + The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, + Whom universal nature did lament, + When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, + His gory visage down the stream was sent, + Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? + Alas! what boots it with uncessant care + To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade, + And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? + Were it not better done, as others use, + To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, + Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair? + Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise + (That last infirmity of noble mind) + To scorn delights and live laborious days; + But, the fair guerdon when we hope to find, + And think to burst out into sudden blaze, + Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, + And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise," + Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears: + "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, + Nor in the glistering foil + Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, + But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes + And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; + As he pronounces lastly on each deed, + Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed." + O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, + Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, + That strain I heard was of a higher mood. + But now my oat proceeds, + And listens to the Herald of the Sea, + That came in Neptune's plea. + He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, + What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? + And questioned every gust of rugged wings + That blows from off each beaked promontory. + They knew not of his story; + And sage Hippotades their answer brings, + That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed: + The air was calm, and on the level brine + Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. + It was that fatal and perfidious bark, + Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, + That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. + Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, + His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, + Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge + Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. + "Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?" + Last came, and last did go, + The Pilot of the Galilean Lake; + Two massy keys he bore of metals twain. + (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). + He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:-- + "How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, + Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake, + Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold! + Of other care they little reckoning make + Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, + And shove away the worthy bidden guest. + Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold + A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least + That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! + What recks it them? What need they? They are sped: + And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs + Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; + The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, + But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, + Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; + Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw + Daily devours apace, and nothing said. + But that two-handed engine at the door + Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." + Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past + That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, + And call the vales, and bid them hither cast + Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. + Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use + Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, + On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, + Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, + That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, + And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. + Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, + The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, + The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, + The glowing violet, + The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, + With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, + And every flower that sad embroidery wears; + Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, + And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, + To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. + For so, to interpose a little ease, + Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, + Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas + Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled; + Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, + Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide + Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world; + Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, + Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, + Where the great Vision of the guarded mount + Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold. + Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth: + And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. + Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, + For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, + Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. + So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, + And yet anon repairs his drooping head, + And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore + Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: + So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, + Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, + Where, other groves and other streams along, + With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, + And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, + In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. + There entertain him all the Saints above, + In solemn troops, and sweet societies, + That Sing, and singing in their glory move, + And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. + Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; + Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, + In thy large recompense, and shalt be good + To all that wander in that perilous flood. + Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, + While the still morn went out with sandals grey: + He touched the tender stops of various quills, + With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: + And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, + And now was dropt into the western bay. + At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: + Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and +Lycidas, by John Milton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS *** + +***** This file should be named 397.txt or 397.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/397/ + +Produced by Edward A. Malone + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |