Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, To lay their just hands on that golden key,

For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

169

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled

ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,

That opes the palace of Eternity:
To such my errand is; and, but for such,
I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds
With the rank vapors of this sin-worn mould.
But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway
Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream,
Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove

20

Through the dear might of him that walk'd the Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles,

waves;

Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing in their glory, move,

That, like to rich and various gems, inlay
The unadorned bosom of the deep:
Which he, to grace his tributary gods,
By course commits to several government,
And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns,
And wield their little tridents: but this isle,
The greatest and the best of all the main,
He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities;

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.

Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; 180 A nobler peer of mickle trust and power

Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,

Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide
An old and haughty nation, proud in arms:
Where his fair offspring, nurs'd in princely lore,
Are coming to attend their father's state,
And new-intrusted sceptre: but their way
Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows
Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger;
And here their tender age might suffer peril,
But that by quick command from sovran Jove
I was dispatch'd for their defence and guard :
And listen why; for I will tell you now
What never yet was heard in tale or song,
From old or modern bard, in hall or bower.
Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine,
After the Tuscan mariners transform'd,
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,
On Circe's island fell: (Who knows not Circe, 50
The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup

THE ATTENDANT SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape,

40

The chief persons, who presented, were

The lord Brackley;

Mr. Thomas Egerton, his brother;
The lady Alice Egerton.

At last betakes him to this ominous wood;
And, in thick shelter of black shades embower'd,

Excels his mother at her mighty art,
Offering to every weary traveller
His orient liquor in a crystal glass,

Which men call earth; and, with low-thoughted care But boast themselves more comely than before;

Confin'd and pester'd in this pinfold here,

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,

And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual stye.

Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives,

Therefore when any, favor'd of high Jove,

After this mortal change, to her true servants, 10 Chances to pass through this adventurous glade,

Amongst the enthron'd gods on sainted seats.

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star

80

Yet some there be, that by due steps aspire

I shoot from Heaven, to give him safe convoy,

As now I do: but first I must put off
These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof,
And take the weeds and likeness of a swain
That to the service of this house belongs,
Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song,
Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,
And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith,
And in this office of his mountain watch
Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid
Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now.

COMUS enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his
glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters,
headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise
like men and women, their apparel glistering; they
come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with

torches in their hands.

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

THE MEASURE.

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

149

90 (For so I can distinguish by mine art)
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains: I shall ere long
Be well-stocked with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazzling spells into the spungy air,
Of power 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;
Which must not be, for that's against my course:
I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,
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,
I shall appear some harmless villager,
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear
But here she comes; I fairly step aside,
And hearken, if I may, her business here.

COMUS

The Star, that bids the shepherd fold,

Now the top of Heaven doth hold;

And the gilded car of day

His glowing axle doth allay

In the steep Atlantic stream;

And the slope Sun his upward beam

Shoots against the dusky pole,

Pacing towards the other goal

100

Of his chamber in the east.

Meanwhile welcome Joy, and Feast,

Midnight Shout, and Revelry,

Tipsy Dance, and Jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odors, dropping wine.

Rigor now is gone to bed,

And Advice with scrupulous head.
Strict Age and sour Severity,
With their grave saws, in slumber lie.
We, that are of purer fire,

Imitate the starry quire,

THE LADY enters.

160

This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170
My best guide now; methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,

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

110 When for their teeming flocks, and granges full,
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?
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favor of these pines,

180

The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim, 120 Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side,

Dark-veil'd Cotytto! to whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame, 130
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon woom
Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air;
Stay the cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out;
Ere the babbling eastern scout,
The nice Morn, on the Indian steep
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
Our conceal'd solemnity.-

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 Phœbus' wain.
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labor of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wandering steps too far;
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had stole them from me: else, O thievish Night,
Why should'st thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That Nature hung in Heaven, 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 listening ear;
140 Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What this might be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,

200

Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,
And aery tongues, that syllable men's names 208
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound,
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
That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,
To keep my life and honor unassail'd.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud

Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
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
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.

220

SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen

Within thy aery shell,

By slow Meander's margent green,

And in the violet-embroider'd vale,

Where the lovelorn 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 flowery cave,
Tell me but where,

231

Lad. 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 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 faery vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

240 That in the colors of the rainbow live,

Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere!
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,

And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmo

nies.

Enter COMUS.

300

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

Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side,

Of silence, through the empty vaulted night, 250 My daily walks and ancient neighborhood;

At every fall smoothing the raven-down

And if your stray attendants 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

315

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,

And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,

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

And chid her barking waves into attention,

Lad.

Shepherd, I take thy word

And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause:

And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,

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,

Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, 260 Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds

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

Enter The TWO BROTHERS.

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.

Moon,

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

395

You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps
Of miser's 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

With thy long-levell'd rule of streaming light;
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,

345

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

fears.

What, if in wild amazement and affright?
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat?

sad 355

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

Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not;
I fear the dread events that dog them both,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.

El. Br.

405

I do not, brother,
Infer, as if I thought my sister's state
Secure, without all doubt or controversy;
Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear
Does arbitrate the event, my nature is
That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint suspicion.
My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine; she has a hidden strength, 415
Which you remember not.

'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity:
She, that has that, is clad in complete steel;
And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen,
May trace huge forests, and unharbor'd heaths,
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;
Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity, 425
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,

365 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 Curseu time, 435
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?

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.

376 Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tamed 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

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.

woods.

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,

450

385 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

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.
El. Br.

List, list; I hear
Some far-off halloo break the silent air.

520

Within the navel of this hideous wood,
Immur'd in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells,
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries;
And here to every thirsty wanderer
By sly enticement gives his baneful cup,
With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
And the inglorious likeness of a beast
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage
Character'd in the face this have I learnt
Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts,
That brow this bottom-glade; whence night by

night

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl,
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate

530

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

481 Had ta'en their supper on the savory herb Sec. Br. Methought so too; what should it be? Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,

El. Br.
For certain
Either some one like us night-founder'd here,
Or else some neighbor woodman, or, at worst,
Some roving robber, calling to his fellows.

Sec Br. Heaven keep my sister. Again, again,
and near!

Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

El Br.

I sat me down to watch upon a bank
With ivy canopied, and interwove
With flaunting honeysuckle, and began.
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
To meditate my rural minstrelsy,
Till fancy had her fill; but, ere a close,
The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,

541

I'll halloo: And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance; 550 If he be friendly, he comes well; if not, At which I ceas'd, and listen'd them a while, Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us. Till an unusual stop of sudden silence Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds,

[Enter the Attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd.] That draw the litter of close-curtain'd Sleep;

That halloo I should know; what are you? speak; At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound

Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else.

Sec. Br. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. El. Br. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delay'd

Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes,
And stole upon the air, that even Silence

Spir. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again.

492 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

560

Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear,
And, O poor hapless nightingale, thought I,

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,

And sweeten'd every musk-rose of the dale?

How cam'st thou here, good swain? hath any ram Of my most honor'd lady, your dear sister.

Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,

502

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. Br. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame,

Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.

How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly

snare!

570

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 neighbor 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.