2 Bro. What hidden strength,
Unless the ftrength of Heav'n, if you mean that?
Eld. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own: 'Tis chastity, my Brother, chastity:
She that has that, is clad in compleat steel,
And like a quiver'd Nymph with Arrows keen
May trace huge Forrefts, and unharbour'd Heaths,
Infamous Hills, and fandy perilous wildes,
Where through the facred rays of Chastity,
No favage fierce, Bandite, or Mountaneer
Will dare to foyl her Virgin purity,
Yea there, where very defolation dwells
By grots, and caverns fhag'd with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.
Some fay no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
Blew meager Hag, or ftubborn unlaid Ghost,
That breaks his magick chains at Curfue time,
No Goblin, or fwart Fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful power o'er true Virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or fhall I call
Antiquity from the old Schools of Greece
To teftifie the arms of Chastity?
Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair filver-fhafted Queen for ever chaste,
Wherewith the tam'd the brinded Lionefs
And spotted mountain Pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid, gods and men
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was Queen 'th' Woods? What was that snaky-headed Gorgon fhield
That wife Minerva wore, unconquer'd Virgin,
Wherewith the freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone?
But riggid looks of chafte aufterity,
And noble grace that dash'd brute violence
With fudden adoration, and blank aw.
So dear to Heav'n is Saintly Chastity,
That when a Soul is found fincerely fo,
A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of fin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and folemn vision,
Tell her of things that no grofs ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
Begin to caft a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted Temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the Soul's effence,
Till all be made immortal: but when Luft,
By unchafte looks, loose geftures, and foul talk,
But most by leud and lavish act of fin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The Soul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till the quite lofe
The divine property of her first being.
Such are thofe thick and gloomy shadows damp
Oft seen in Charnel Vaults, and Sepulchres,
Lingring, and fitting by a new made grave,
As loath to leave the Body that it lov'd,
And linkt it felf by carnal fenfuality
To a degenerate and degraded ftate,
2. Bro. How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harfh, and crabbed, as dull fools fuppofe, But mufical as is Apollo's Lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd fweers,
Where no crude furfeit reigns. Eld. Bro. List, list,I hear Some far off hallow break the filent Air.
2 Bro. Methought fo too; what should it be? Eld. Bro. For certain
Either fome one like us night-founder'd here, Or else some Neighbour Woodman, or, at worft, Some roaving Robber calling to his fellows.
2 Bro. Heav'n keep my Sifter. Agen, agen, and nears Beft draw, and ftand upon our guard.
If he be friendly he comes well, if not,
Defence is a good caufe, and Heav'n be for us.
The attendant Spirit, habited like a Shepherd.
That hallow I fhould know, what are you? fpeak.
Come not too near, you fall on Iron stakes elfe.
Spir. What voice is that, my young Lord? speak agen.
2 Bro. O brother, 'tis my father's Shepherd fure.
Eld. Bro. Thyrfis? whofe artful ftrains have oft
The hudling brook to hear his madrigal,
[delaid
And sweetn'd every muskrose of the dale,
How cam'ft thou here, good Swain? hath any Ram
Slipt from the fold, or young Kid loft his dam,
Or ftraggling Weather the pen't flock forfook?
How could' thou find this dark fequefter'd nook?
Spir. O my lov'd Master's heir, and his next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy
As aftray'd Ewe, or to purfue the stealth
Of pilfering Wolf, not all the fleecy wealth
That doth inrich these Downs, is worth a thought
To this my errand, and the care it brought.
Fut, O my Virgin Lady, where is the?
How chance the is not in your company?
Eld. Bro. To tell thee fadly, Shepherd, without Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.
[blame, Spir. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. Eld. Bro. What fears, good Thyrfis? Prethee briefly Spir. I'll tell ye, 'tis not vain or fabulous, [fhew. (Though fo esteem'd by fhallow ignorance) What the fage Poers, taught by th' Heav'nly Mufe, Story'd of old in high immortal verse,
Of dire Chimera's and inchanted Isles,
And rifted Rocks whofe entrance leads to Hell, For fuch there be, but unbelief is blind.
Within the navil of this hideous Wood,
Immur'd in Cyprefs fhades a Sorcerer dwells,
Of Bachus and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skill'd in all his Mother's Witcheries,
And here to every thirsty wanderer,
By fly enticement gives his baneful cup,
With many murmurs mixt, whofe pleating poison
The vifage quite transforms of him that drinks,
And the inglorious likeness of a beaft
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage
Character'd in the face; this have I learnt
Tending my flocks hard by i'th' hilly crofts,
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night
He and his monftrous rout are heard to howl
Like ftabl'd Wolves, or Tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate
In their obfcured haunts of inmoft bowres.
Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells
To inveigle and invite th'unwary fenfe
Of them that pafs unweeting by the way.
This evening late by then the chewing flocks
Had ta'n their fupper on the favoury Herb
Of Knot-grafs dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I fate me down to watch upon a bank
With Ivy canopied, and interwove
With flaunting Hony-fuckle, and began
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
To meditate my rural minftrelfie,
Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close
The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,
And fill'd the Air with barbarous diffonance,
At which I ceas'd, and liften'd them a while,
Till an unusual stop of fudden filence
Gave refpite to the drowfie frighted steeds
That draw the litter of clofe-curtain'd sleep.
At laft a foft and folemn breathing found
Rofe like a fteam of rich diftill'd perfumes,
And stole upon the Air, that even Silence
Was took ere he was ware, and wiht he might
Deny her Nature, and be never more
Still to be fo difplac'd. I was all eare,
|