Of dragon-watch, with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
El. Br. Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
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 damm'd 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-levell'd rule of streaming light; And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps Of misers' treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on Opportunity, 335 And let a single helpless maiden pass
Or, if our eyes Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd 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, '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, among 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
What, if in wild amazement and affright? Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? El. Br. 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 impair'd. 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.
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 gray hairs any violence? But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
What hidden strength, Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?
El. Br. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, Which, if Heaven gave it, may be term'd her
'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 unharbour'd 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 shagg'd with horrid shades, She may pass on with unblench'd 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 meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at Curfeu 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 tam'd the brinded lioness 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 o' the
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield, That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone, But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace, that dash'd 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
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 lov'd, And link'd itself by carnal sensuality To a degenerate and degraded state,
Sec. 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 nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Some far off halloo break the silent air. Sec. Br. Methought so too; what should it be? EL Br.
Either some one like us night-founder'd here, Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, Some roving robber, calling to his fellows.
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 honey-suckle, and began, Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
Sec. B. Heaven keep my sister. Again, again, and To meditate my rural minstrelsy,
[Enter 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. Spar. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again. 492 Sec. B. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. El. B. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delay'd
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale? How cam'st thou here, good swain ? hath any ram Supt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ? How could'st thou find this dark sequester'd nook? Spir. O my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy As a stray'd 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, O my virgin lady, where is she? How chance she is not in your company?
EL. B. 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. EL. B. What fears, good Thyrsis? Pr'ythee briefly
Spir. I'll tell ye; 'tis not vain or fabulous, / (Though so esteem'd 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.
Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was 'ware, and wish'd she might Deny her nature, and be never more, Still to be so displac'd. I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of Death: but O! ere long, Too well I did perceive it was the voice Of my most honour'd lady, your dear sister. Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd 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 damn'd wisard, 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 wish'd prey; Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two, Supposing him some neighbour villager. Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd 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. Br.
O night, and shades! How are ye join'd with Hell in triple knot Against the unarm'd weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence You gave me, brother? El. Br.
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 assail'd, but never hurt, Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd: 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 Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed, and self-consum'd: if this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And Earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on.
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600 May never this just sword be lifted up; But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt With all the grissly 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, Curs'd as his life.
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. El. Br. Why pr'ythee, shepherd, How durst thou then thyself approach so near, As to make this relation? Spir.
Lad. 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. Com. Why are you vex'd, 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 syrops mix'd; Not that nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, 620 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 680 For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
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 skill'd In every virtuous plant, and healing herb, That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray : He lov'd 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 cull'd 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 esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon ; And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly,
But you invert the covenants of her trust, And harshly deal like an ill borrower With that which you receiv'd on other terms; Scorning the unexempt condition,
By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 630 Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
He call'd it hæmony, 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 purs'd it up, but little reckoning made,
Till now that this extremity compell'd: But now I find it true; for by this means I knew the foul enchanter though disguis'd, Enter'd 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 Boidly assault the necromancer's hall; Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, And brandish'd blade, rush on him; break his glass,
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-hair'd silk,
To deck her sons; and that no corner might Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutch'd the all-worshipt 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 unthank'd, would be unprais'd,
Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd: 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 surcharg'd with her own weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility;
The Earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd with plumes,
The herds would over-multitude their lords, The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds
Would so imblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows. List, lady: be not coy, and be not cosen'd 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 languish'd 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-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn? There was another meaning in these gifts; Think what, and be advis'd; you are but young yet.
Lad. I had not thought to have unlock'd my lips In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, Obtruding false rules prank'd 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:
And she no whit encumber'd with her store; And then the Giver would be better thank'☎, 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 enough? To him that dares 780 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 utter'd 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 convinc'd: 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 mov'd to sympathize, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magic structures, rear'd so high, Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head. Com. 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 'tis 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.
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 staid her flight with his cross-flowing course. The water-nymphs, that in the bottom play'd, Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall; Who, piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectar'd lavers, strew'd with asphodel; And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she reviv'd, 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 elfe delights to make, Which she with precious vial'd 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 numming spell,
If she be right invok'd 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.
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 wisard's hook, By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, And the songs of Syrens sweet, By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rock, 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 answer'd have.
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.
Sp. Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand To undo the charmed band
Of true virgin here distrest,
Through the force, and through the wile, Of unblest enchanter vile.
Sabr. Shepherd, 'tis 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 venom'd seat,
Smear'd 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.
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 wish'd 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 Come, let us haste, the stars grow high, Will double all their mirth and cheer: But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
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