But oh! 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?
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;
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
(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 so ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He, that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
But he, that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun,
Himself in his own dungeon.

Y. Bro. 'Tis most true

That musing Meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

Far from the chearful 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 grey hairs any violence?
But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye,
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
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.

E. Bro. 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 th' 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
Which you remember not.

Y. Bro. What hidden strength
Unless the strength of Heaven? if you mean that.
E. Bro. I mean that too; but yet a hidden
strength,

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 and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds,
Where through the sacred rays of chastity
No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer,
Will dare to soil her virgin purity;
Yea, there where very desolation dwells,
By grot 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 meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magick chains at curfew time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful pow'r 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?

fence 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 friv❜lous bolt of Cupid: gods and men Fear'd her stern frown, and she was Queen o' th woods.

What was the 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 Heav'n is saintly chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand livery'd angels lacquey 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 heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,

And turn it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal.

But when lust,

By unchaste looks, 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, mbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose ihe divine property of her first being.

sure.

E. Bro. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft'
delay'd

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,
And sweeten'd ev'ry musk-rose of the dale.
How cam'st thou here, good swain? has any ram
Slipp'd from the fold, or young kid lost his dain,
Or straggling weather the pent flock forsook?
How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook?
F. Spi. O my loved master's heir, and his next
joy!
toy

I came not here on such a trivial

As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth
Of pilf'ring 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 oh! my virgin lady! where is she?
How chance she is not in your company?

E. Bro. Proceed, good shepherd; I am all

attention.

F. Spi. Within the navel of this hideous woed,
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 wanton as his father;

And here to ev'ry thirsty wanderer
By sly enticements gives his beneful 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 flock hard by, i' th' hilly crofts
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by
night

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

In their obscured haunts and inmost bow'rs.
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells,
And beauty's tempting semblance can put on,
T'inveigle and invite th' unwary sense
Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
But hark! the beaten timbrels jarring sound
And wild tumultuous mirth proclaim their pre-

And midnight revelry, like drunken bacchanals, Invade the silence of these lonely shades?

F. Wom. Ye godlike youths! whose radiant forms excel

The blooming grace of Maia's winged son,
Bless the propitious star that led you to us:
We are the happiest of the race of mortals,
Of freedom, mirth, and joy, the only heirs:
But you shall share them with us; for this cup,
This nectar'd cup, the sweet assurance gives
Of present and the pledge of future bliss.

SONG.-By a Man.

By the gayly circling glass
We can see how minutes pass,
By the hollow cask are told
How the waining night grows old.
Soon, too soon, the busy day
Drives us from our sport and play:
What have we with day to do?
Sons of Care, 'twus made for you.

E. Bro. Forbear, nor offer us the poison'd

sweets

20

That thus have render'd thee thy sex's shame, All sense of honour banish'd from thy breast.

SONG.

Fame's an echo, prattling double,
An empty, airy, glitt'ring bubble;
A breath can swell, a breath can sink it,
The wise not worth their keeping think it.
Why then, why such toil and pain
Fame's uncertain smiles to gain?
Like her sister Fortune blind,
To the best she's oft' unkind,
And the worst her favour find.

E. Bro. By her own sentence Virtue stands absolv'd,

Nor asks an echo from the tongues of men,
To tell what hourly to herself she proves.
Who wants his own no other praise enjoys;
His ear receives it as a fulsome tale,

To which his heart in secret gives the lie :
Nay, slander'd innocence must feel a peace,
An inward peace, which flatter'd guilt ne'er

knew.

F. Wom. Oh! how unseemly shews in blooming youth

Such grey severity!-But come with us,
We to the bow'r of bliss will guide your steps;
There you shall taste the joys that Nature sheds
On the gay spring of life, youth's flow'ry prime;
From morn to noon, from noon to dewy eve,
Each rising hour by rising pleasures mark'd.

SONG. By a Woman in a pastoral habit.

Would you taste the noon-tide air,
To yon fragrant bow'r repair,
Where woven with the poplar bough
The mantling vine will shelter you.

Down cach side a fountain flows,
Tinkling, murm'ring as it goes;
Lightly o'er the mossy ground,
Sultry Phabus scorching round.
Round the languid herds and sheep
Stretch'do'er sunny hillocks sleep,
While on the hyacinth and rose
The fair does all alone repose :-

All alone and in her arms
Your breast may beat to love's alarms,
Till, bless'd and blessing, you shall own
The joys of love are joys alone.

SONG.-By a Man and two Women.

Live and love, enjoy the fair,
Banish sorrow, banish care;
Mind not what old dotards say;
Age has had his share of play,
But youth's sport begins to-day.

From the fruits of sweet delight
Let not scare-crow Virtue fright:
Here in Pleasure's vineyard we
Rove like birds from tree to tree,
Careless, airy, gay, and free.

E. Bro. How can your impious tongues pro» fane the name

Of sacred Virtue, and yet promise pleasure
In lying songs of vanity and vice?
From virtue sever'd, pleasure phrenzy grows,
The gay delirium of the fev'rish mind,
And always flies at reason's cool return.

F. Wom. Perhaps it may; perhaps the swee>
est joys

Of love itself from passion's folly spring; But say, does wisdom greater bliss bestow?

E. Bro. Alike from love's and pleasure's par

Poor blinded boys, by their blind guides misled
A beardless cynic is the shame of nature,
Beyond the cure of this inspiring cup,
And my contempt, at best my pity, moves

debas'd!

CHORUS.
Away, away, away,
To Comus's court repair,
There night outshines the day,
There yields the melting fair.
[Exeunt singing

E. Bro. She's gone! may scorn pursue

guess,

A harder trial on her virtue waits.

E. Bro. Protect her Heav'n! But whence this sad conjecture?

Spi. This ev'ning late, by then the chewing
flocks

Had ta'en their supper on the sav'ry herb
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I sat me down to watch upon a bank
With ivy canopy'd, and interwove
With flaunting honeysuckle, and began,
Wrapp'd 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,
And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance,
At which I ceas'd, and listen'd them a while.
Y. Bro. What follow'd then? O! if our help-
less sister-

Sai. Straight an unusual stop of sudden silence
Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds
That draw the litter of close curtain'd Sleep.
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound
Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes,
And stole upon the air, that ev'n 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 oh! ere long
Too well I did perceive it was the voice
Of my most honour'd lady, your dear sister.
Y. Bro. O my foreboding heart! too true my

fears.

Spi. Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear,

And O! poor helpless 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 my ear, I found the place
Where the damn'd wizard, hid in sly disguise,
(For so by certain signs I knew,) had met
Already, ere my best speed to prevent,
The aidless, innocent lady, his wished 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 farther know I not.

Y. Bro. O night and shades!
How are ye join'd with hell in triple knot

Against th' unarmed weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence You gave me, brother?

E. Bro. 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 assailed but never hurt,
Surprised 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 th' opposing will and arm of Heav'n
May never this just sword be lifted up;
But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt
With all the grisly legions that troop
Under the socty flag of Acheron,

Harpies and hydras, or all the monstrous forms
"Twixt Africa and Inde, I'll find him out,
And force him to restore his purchase back,
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,
Curs'd as his life.

Spi. Alas! good vent'rous 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.

E. Bro. Why, pr'ythee, shepherd,
How durst thou then thyself approach so near,
As to make this relation?

Spi. A 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 the morning ray,
Has shewn me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.
Among the rest a small unsightly root,
But of divine effect, he cull'd me out,
And bade me keep it as of sovereign use
'Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp,
Or ghastly fury's apparition.

I purs'd it up. If you have this about you
(As I will give you when you go) you may
Boldly assault the necromancer's hall;
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood
And brandish'd blade rush on him, break his glass,
And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;
But seize his wand; though he and his cursed

Scene opens, and discovers a magnificent Hall in COMUS'S Palace, set off with all the gay decoratuns proper for an ancient banqueting-room. COMUS and Attendants stand on each side of the Lady, who is seated in an enchanted chair, and by her looks and gestures expresses great signs of uneasiness and melancholy.

COMUS speaks.

Hence, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn,

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy,

Find out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,

And the night-raven sings;

There, under ebon-shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come, hou goddess fair and free,
In heaven yclep'd Euphrosyné,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore.
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty.

[Whilst these lines are repeating, enter a
Numph representing EUPHROSYNE, or
Mirth, who advances to the Lady, and
sings the following song.

SONG.

Come, come, bid adieu to fear,
Love and harmony live here;
No domestic jealous jars,
Buzzing slanders, wordy wars,
In
my presence will
appear ;
Love and harmony reign here.

Sighs to amorous sighs returning,
Pulses beating, bosoms burning,
Bosoms with warm wishes panting,
Words to speak those wishes wanting,
Are the only tumults here,
All the woes you need to fear;
Love and harmony reign here.

Lady. How long must I, by magic fetters chain'd

To this detested seat, hear odious strains
Of shameless folly, which my soul abhors?
Com. Ye sedge-crown'd naiades, by twilight

seen

Along Mæander's mazy border green,
At Comus's call appear in all your azure sheen.
[He waves his wand, the Naiads enter, and
range themselves in order to dance.
Now softly slow let Lydian measures move,
And breathe the pleasing pangs of gentle love.
[The Naiads dance a slow dance, expressive
of the passion of love.

[After this dance the Pastoral Nymph advances
slow, with a melancholy and desponding cir,
to the side of the stage, and repeats, by way
of soliloquy, the first six lines, and then sings
the ballad. In the mean time she is observed
by EUPHROSYNE, who, by her gesture, ex |
presses to the audience her different senti
ments of the subject of her complaint, suit
ably to the character of their several songi.
RECITATIVE.

How gentle was my Damon's air!
Like sunny beams his golden hair,
His voice was like the nightingale's,
More sweet his breath than flow'ry vales.
How hard such beauties to resign!
And yet that cruel task is mine!

A BALLAD.

On every hill, in every grove,

Along the margin of each stream,
Dear conscious scenes of former love,

I mourn, and Damon is my theme.
The hills, the groves, the streams remain,
But Damon there I seek in vain.
Now to the mossy cave I fly,

Where to my swain I oft have sung,
Well pleased the browsing goats to spy,
As o'er the airy steep they hung.
The mossy cave, the goats remain,
But Damon there I seek in vain.
Now through the winding vale I pass,
And sigh to see the well-known shade;
I weep, and kiss the bended grass,

Where love and Damon fondly play'd.
The vale, the shade, the grass remain,
But Damon there I seek in vain.

From hill, from dale, each charm is fled, Groves, flocks, and fountains please no more; Each flower in pity droops its head,

All nature does my loss deplore. All, all reproach the faithless swain, Yet Damon still I seek in vain.