COMUS. But where they are, and why they came not back, Is now the labor 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 Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows. dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings- That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need SONG. 553 SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph—that livest unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green Where the love-lorn nightingale Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere! So mayst thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies. Enter COMUS. Cом. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment? How sweetly did they float upon the wings And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, Whom, certain, these rough shades did never breed, Unless the goddess that in rural shrine Dwellest here with Pan or Silvan, by blest song It were a journey like the path to heaven Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall To help you find them. wood! LAD. Gentle villager, LAD. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that What readiest way would bring me to that praise That is addressed to unattending ears; LAD. Dim darkness, and this leafy laby- place? COM. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. LAD. To find that out, good shepherd, I suppose, In such a scant allowance of star-light, Coм. Could that divide you from near ush- Dingle or bushy dell, of this wild wood, ering guides? LAD. They left me weary on a grassy turf. And every bosky bourn from side to side- Coм. And left your fair side all unguarded, From her thatched pallat rouse; if otherwise, Coм. Were they of manly prime, or youth- Less warranted than this, or less secure, ful bloom? I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. LAD. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored Eye me, blest Providence, and square my lips. trial COM. Two such I saw, what time the la- To my proportioned strength. Shepherd, And as I passed, I worshipped. If those you Though a rush candle from the wicker-hole seek, Of some clav habitation, visit us With thy long-levelled rule of streaming She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her light; And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian cynosure. 2 BR. 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, wings, That in the various bustle of resort Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; 2 BR. 'Tis most true, 'T would be some solace yet, some little cheer- The pensive secrecy of desert cell, ing In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But O that hapless virgin, our lost sister! Where may she wander now, whither betake her Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, From the chill dew, among rude burs and But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree thistles? Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now; What if in wild amazement and affright, 1 BR. Peace, brother! be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; Laden with blooming gold, had need the For grant they be so-while they rest un- Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. known, What need a man forestall his date of grief, And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, As that the single want of light and noise And put them into misbecoming plight. moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not; I fear the dread events that dog them both, Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the per son Of our unowned sister. 1 BR. I do not, brother, 2 RR. What hidden strength, Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that? 1 BR. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul own: 'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity: Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds, She may pass on with unblenched majesty, Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, 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 talk, But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres, 2 BR. 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, 1 BR. List! list! I hear Some far off halloo break the silent air. 2 BR. Methought so, too; what should it be? 1 BR. For certain Either some one like us, night-foundered here, Or else some neighbor wood-man; or, at worst, Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 2 BR. Heaven keep my sister. Again, again, and near; Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 1 BR. I'll halloo; 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 halloo I should know, what are you? speak; Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. SPI. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again. 2 BR. O brother, 't is my father's shepherd, sure. 1 BR. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft delayed The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale. How cam'st thou here, good swain? hath any ram Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells, dam, Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook? How could'st thou find this dark sequestered nook? To inveigle and invite th' unwary sense SPI. O my loved master's heir, and his Of knot-grass dew-besprint, and were in fold, next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy To this my errand, and the care it brought. Or our neglect we lost her as we came. true. I sat me down to watch upon a bank 1 BR. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee And stole upon the air, that even Silence briefly shew. SPI. I'll tell ye; 't is not vain or fabulous Storied of old in high immortal verse, Was took ere she was ware, and wished she Deny her nature, and be never more, And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Of my most honored Lady, your dear sister. For such there be, but unbelief is blind. By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 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, The visage quite transforms of him that Where that damned wizard, hid in sly dis |