Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

THE MEASURE.

145

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, 150
And to my wily trains; I shall ere long
Be well-stock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazzling spells into the spungy air,
Of pow'r 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;

155

Which must not be, for that's against my course:
L, under fair pretence of friendly ends,

160

And well-plac'd words of glozing courtesy,
Baited with reasons not unplausible,
Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

And hug him into snares. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,

165

I shall appear some harmless villager,

Whoin thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here she comes; I fairly step aside,

And hearken, if I may, her business here.

The Lady enters.

Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now: methought it was the sound 171 Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,

Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe,
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,

When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the Gods amiss. I should be loth
To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence,

Of such late Wassailers; yet O where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?

180

My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,

Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side,

185

To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit

As the kind hospitable woods provide.

They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,

Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 190
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far,
And envious darkness, ere they could return,

Had stole them from me: else, O thievish Night, 195
Why should'st thou, but for some felonious end,

In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,

That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd 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 list'ning ear;
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,

200

205

Of calling shapes, and beck'ning 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, 210
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience.-
O welcome, pure-ey'd Faith; white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings;
And thou, unblemish'd form of Chastity!

I see ye visibly, and now believe

215

That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,

Would send a glist'ring guardian, if need were,

To keep my life and honour unassail'd.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

220

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 halloo to my brothers, but

225

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
I'll venture; for my new-enliven❜d 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-embroider'd 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 flow'ry cave,

Tell me but where,

Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere!

So may'st thou be translated to the skies,

230

235

240

And give resounding grace to all Heav'n's harmonies.

Enter Comus.

Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?

245

Sure something holy lodges in that breast,

And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence:

How sweetly did they float upon the wings

Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven-down
Of darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Syre ns three,
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades,

250

Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs,
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
Aud lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause :
Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense,
And in sweet madness robb'd 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,

255

260

264

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 prosp'rous growth of this tall wood. 270
Lad. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise
That is address'd to unattending ears;

Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

275

Com. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?

Lad. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.
Com. Could that divide you from near-ushering
guides?

Lad. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280
Com. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
Lad. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly spring.
Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?
Lad. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick re-

turn.

284

Com. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.
Lad. How easy my misfortune is to hit!
Com. Imports their loss, beside the present need?
Lad. No less than if I should my brothers lose.

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

Lad. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 290

Com. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink'd 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 fairy vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

"That in the colours of the rainbow live,

295

And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck,
And, as I past, I worshipp'd; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heaven,
To help you find them.

Lad.

Gentle villager,

300

What readiest way would bring me to that place? 305
Com. Due west it rises from this shrubby point.
Lad. 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-practis'd feet.

310

Com. 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 lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatch'd pallet rouse; if otherwise,
I can conduct you, lady, to a low

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Till further quest.

Lad.

Shepherd, I take thy word,

And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds

With smoky rafters, that in tap'stry halls

315

320

And courts of princes, where it first was nam'd, 325 And yet is most pretended: in a place

313. "Bosky bourn"....woody stream.
H

Vol. II.