Where may she wander now,
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 fears.
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"17
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils: 118
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) 120 370
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 375
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, 125 and sometimes impair'd. 380
He, that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: 12
But he, that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself is his own dungeon.17
That musing Meditation most affects
The pensive secresy 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,129 like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye,' 395
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
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,
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjured 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.
Infer as if I thought my sister's state
Secure, without all doubt or controversy;
Yet, where an equal poise 132 of hope and fear 410
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.
Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that? EL. BR. I mean that too, but yet a hidden
Which, if Heaven gave it, may be term'd her own: '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,135 and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills,136 and sandy perilous wilds;
Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity,1 425
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,
She may pass on with unblench'd 139 majesty, 430
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,11
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost
That breaks his magick chains at curfeu time,'
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,143
Hath hurtful power o'er true Virginity.
believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of Chastity?
Hence1 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 naught
The frivolous bolt of Cupid;145 gods and men 445
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen of the
woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal'd stone,
But rigid looks 146 of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dash'd brute violence 147
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 lacky her,148
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
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,150
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,'
Till all be made immortal: but when lust,
By unchaste looks, 152 loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts;
The soul grows clotted by contagion,'
Imbodies, and imbrutes,11 till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being.
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 loved,
And link'd itself by carnal sensuality
To a degenerate and degraded state.
SEC. BR. How charming is divine philosophy! 155
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.
List, list; I hear 480
Some far off halloo break the silent air.
SEC. BR. Methought so too; what should it
Either some one like us night-founder'd here,
Or else some neighbour woodman, or at worst,
Some roving robber calling to his fellows.
SEC. BR. Heaven keep my sister.
again, and near!
Best draw, and stand upon our guard.
If he be friendly, he comes well; if not, Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us.
Enter the ATTENDANT SPIRIT, habited like a
That halloo I should know; what are you?
Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else. SPIR. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again.
SEC. BR. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd,
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