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diff --git a/old/miltp10.txt b/old/miltp10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93c46fc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/miltp10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1955 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and +Lycidas, by John Milton + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +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. + + + +This is the end of the Project Gutenberg Edition of L'Allegro, +Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas, by John Milton + + |