Scorning the judgment of a trifling age,
To choicer spirits he bequeath'd his page..
He too was scorn'd, and to Britannia's shame
She scarce for half an age knew Milton's

name:

But now, his fame by every trumpet blown, We on his deathless trophies raise our own. Nor art nor nature did his genius bound; Heaven, hell, earth, chaos, he survey'd around: All things his eye, through wit's bright empire thrown,

Beheld, and made what it beheld his own.

Such Milton was: 'tis ours to bring him forth,

And yours to vindicate neglected worth.
Such heaven-taught numbers should be more
than read,
[spread.
More wide the manna through the nation
Like some bless'd spirit he to night descends,
Mankind he visits, and their steps befriends;
Through mazy error's dark perplexing wood
Points out the path of true and real good,

Warns erring youth, and guards the spotless maid

From spell of magic vice by reason's aid. Attend the strains; and should some mean

er phrase

Hang on the style and clog the nobler lays,
Excuse what we with trembling hand supply,
To give his beauties to the public eye:
His the pure essence, ours the grosser mean
Through which his spirit is in action seen.
Observe the force, observe the flame divine
That glows, breathes, acts in each harmonious
line.

Great objects only strike the generous heart;
Praise the sublime, o'erlook the mortal part;
Be there your judgment, here your candour
shown;
Small is our portion-and we wish 'twere none.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Discovers a wild Wood.

The first Attendant SPIRIT enters. BEFORE the starry threshold of Jove's court

Confined and pester'd in this pinfold here
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true servants
Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted
seats.

Yet some there are that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that golden key
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 vapours of this sin-worn mould.
But whence yon slanting stream of purer light,
Which streaks the midnight gloom, and hither
darts

Its beamy point? Some messenger from Jove
Commission'd to direct or share my charge,
And if I ken him right a spirit pure
As treads the spangled pavement of the sky,
The gentle Philadel: but swift as thought

He comes

The second Attending SPIRIT descends.

Declare on what strange errand bent Thou visitest this clime to me assign'd, So far remote from thy appointed sphere. 2d Spirit. On no appointed task thou seest me now;

But, as returning from Elysian bowers, (Whither from mortal coil a soul I wafted,) Along this boundless sea of waving air I steer'd my flight, betwixt the gloomy shade Of these thick boughs thy radiant form I spied, [clouds; Gliding as streams the moon through dusky Instant I stoop'd my wing, and downward sped

To learn thy errand, and with thine to join My kindred aid, from mortals ne'er withheld When virtue on the brink of peril stands.

1st Spirit. Then mark th' occasion that demands it here,

Neptune, I need not tell, besides the sway
Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream,
Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove,
Imperial rule of all the sea girt isles
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 all this track that fronts the falling sun
A noble peer of mickle trust and power
Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to
guide

An old and haughty nation proud in arms.

2d Spirit. Does any danger threat his legal

sway

From bold sedition or close ambush'd treason? 1st Spirit. No danger thence; but to his lofty seat,

Which borders on the verge of this wild vale, His blooming offspring, nursed in princely lore,

Are coming to attend their father's state
And new-entrusted sceptre, and their way
Lies through the perplex'd path 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 sovereign
Jove

I was despatch'd for their defence and guard. 2d Spirit. What peril can their innocence assail

Within these lonely and unpeopled shades?
1st Spirit. Attend my words.
No place
but harbours danger;

In every region virtue finds a foe.
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,
The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,
And downward fell into a groveling swine?)
This nymph, that gazed upon his clustering
locks,
[youth,
With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son
Much like his father, but his mother more,
Whom therefore she brought up and Comus
named.

2d Spirit. Ill omen'd birth to Virtue and her sons!

1st Spirit. He, ripe and frolic of his full grown age,

Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,

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

Excels his mother at her mighty art,
Offering to every weary traveller
His orient liquor in a crystal glass
To quench the drought of Phoebus, which as
they taste,

(For most do taste through fond intemperate
thirst)
[nance,
Soon as the potion works, their human counte-
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is
changed

Into some brutish form of wolf or bear,
Or ounce or tiger, hog or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were
Yet, when he walks his tempting rounds, the

sorcerer

By magic power their human face restores And outward beauty to delude the sight. 2d Spirit. Lose they the memory of their former state?

1st Spirit. No, they (so perfect is their misery)

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than before;

And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.
2d Spirit. Degrading fall! from such a dire
distress
[save?
What pain too great our mortal charge to
1st Spirit. For this, when any favour'd of high
Jove
[glade,
Chances to pass through this adventurous
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star

I shoot from heaven to give him safe convoy,
As now I do; and opportune thou com'st
To share an office which thy nature loves.

This be our task; but first I must put off
These my sky robes spun out of Iris' woof,
And take the weeds and likenes of a swain
That to the service of this house belongs,
Who with soft pipe and smooth-ditty'd 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. Veil'd in such disguise,
Be it my care the sever'd youths to guide
To their distress'd and lonely sister; thine
To cheer her footsteps through the magic
wood.

Whatever blessed spirit hovers near,

On errands bent to wandering mortal good, If need require him summon to thy side; Unseen of mortal eye such thoughts inspire, Such heaven-born confidence, as need demands

In hour of trial.

COMUS enters with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of MEN and WOMEN dressed as Bacchanals; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.

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 toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;
Mean-while welcome joy and feast.

SONG.

Now Phoebus sinketh in the west, Welcome song, and welcome jest, Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity: Braid your locks with rosy twine, Dropping odours, dropping wine.

Rigour 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 choir,

Who in their nightly watchful spheres,
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny
drove,

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move.
And on the tawny sands and shelves,
Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves.

SONG.-By a Woman.

By dimpled brook, and fountain brim, The Wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,

Of midnight torches burn. Mysterious dame ! That ne'er art call'd but when the dragonwomb

Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air,
Stay thy 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 blabbing eastern scout,
The nice morn, on th' Indian steep
From her cabin loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
Our conceal'd solemnity.

SONG. BY COMUS and Woman.

From tyrant laws and customs free, We follow sweet variety;

By turns we drink, and dance, and sing, Love for ever on the wing.

Why should niggard rules control Transports of the jovial soul? No dull stinting hour we own, Pleasure counts our time alone.

Enter the LADY.

Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear

be true,

[sound My best guide now: methought it was the Of riot and ill-managed merriment; Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, [Pan, In wanton dance they praise the bounteous And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath To meet the rudeness and swill'd insolence Of such late rioters; yet, oh, where else Shall I inform my unacquainted feet In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? Comus. [Aside.] I'll ease her of that care, and be her guide.

Lady. My brothers, when they saw me
weary'd out

With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,
Stepp'd, as they said to the next thicket side
To bring me berries of 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 weeds,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus'
wain ;
[back,
But where they are, and why they come not
Is now the labour of my thoughts: 'tis likeliest
They had engaged their wandering steps too
This is the place as well as I may guess, [far.
Whence, even now, the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear,
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,

Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire
And aery tongues, that syllable men's names
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses
These thoughts may startle well, but not as-
tound

The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
Oh! welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed
Hope,

Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings,
And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity!
I see you 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

Oh! if thou have

Hid them in some flowery cave,

[Sphere!

Tell me but where,
Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give surrounding grace to all heaven's
harmonies.

Comus. [Aside.] Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould

Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
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
Of silence through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,
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,
And sweet in 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!
[breed,
Whom certain these rough shades did never
Unless the goddes that in rural shrine,
Dwell'st here with Pan or Silvan, by bless'd

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,
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Comus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus ?

Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth. Comus. Could that divide you from near. ushering guides?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Comus. By falsehood or discourtesy, or why? Lady. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly spring.

Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?

Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick return.

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them?

Ludy. How easy my misfortune is to hit! Comus. Imports their loss beside the present

need?