At every fall smoothing the raven down

Of darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades

Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, 255
Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
And 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, 260
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,
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 Silvan, by blest song Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 269

To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall wood.
LA. 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

275

To give me answer from her mossy couch. [thus? COM.What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you LA. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. COM. Could that divide you from near-ushering LA. They left me weary on a grassy turf. [guides Volume III.

COм. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why? 281 LA. To seek i'th' valley some cool friendly spring. COM. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady? LA. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick

return.

COм. Perhaps forestalling Night prevented them. LA. How easy my misfortune is to hit!

286

COM. Imports their loss, beside the present need? LA. No less than if I should my brothers lose. COм. Were they of manly prime, or youthful

bloom?

LA. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. COM. Two such I saw, what time the labor'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swinkt 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 faëry vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

That in the colors of the rainbow live,

295

300

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

305

LA. Gentle Villager, What readiest way would bring me to that place? COM. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. LA. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose

In such a scant allowance of star-light,
Would over-task 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-attendence. be yet lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatcht pallat rouse; if otherwise
I can conduct you, Lady, to a low
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe.
Till further quest.

LA. Shepherd, I take thy word,

And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds

With smoky rafters, than 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
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 proportion'd strengh. Shepherd, lead on."

The two BROTHERS.

[Moon, E. BRO. Unmuffle ye faint Stars, and thou fair That wont'st to love the traveller's benizon, 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 damm'd up
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,
Though a rush candle from the wicker hole
Of some clay habitation, visit us

335

With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light, 340
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Ór Tyrian Cynasure.

Y. BRO. Or if our eyes

345

Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their watled cotes, Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But O 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 unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears. What if in wild amazement, and affright,

350

356

Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat?

E. BRO. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquisite

To cast the fashion of uncertain evils :

360

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,

What need a man forestal 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

365

370

(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

375

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 380
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' center, 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.

Y. BRO. 'Tis most true,

That nusing 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;

385

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?

390