Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful

bloom?

Lady. As smooth as Hebè's their unrazored lips. Comus. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swinked 1 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 faëry vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

That in the colours of the rainbow live,

And play i' the plighted clouds: I was awestruck,
And, as I passed, I worshipped; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heav'n,

To help you find them.

Lady.

What readiest way would Comus. Due west it point.

Gentle Villager,

bring me to that place?

rises from this shrubby

Lady. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose, In such a scant allowance of star-light,

Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,

Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.

Comus. I know each lane, and ev'ry alley green,

Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood,
And ev'ry bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
And if your stray attendants be yet lodged,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatched pallet rouse; if otherwise
I can conduct you, Lady, to a low

Tired out with labour.

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe

Till further quest.

Lady.

Shepherd, I take thy word,

And trust thy honest offered courtesy,
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls
In courts of princes, where it first was named,
And yet is most pretended: in a place
Less warranted than this, or less secure,

I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.—
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trials
To my proportioned strength !-Shepherd, lead on.
They go out.

The two Brothers enter

Elder B. Unmuffle, ye faint Stars; and thou, fair 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 dammed 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-levelled rule of streaming light;
And thou shalt be our Star of Arcady,

Or Tyrian Cynosure.1

Sec. B.

Or, if our eyes

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear
The folded flocks penned in their wattled cotes,
Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his feath'ry dames;

The constellation of the Lesser Bear ("Dog's Tail"), by which the Tyrian, or Phoenician, sailors steered their course.

'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,
In this close dungeon of innum'rous boughs.
But oh, 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 unpillowed 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?

Elder B. 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,1 and sometimes impaired. He, that has light within his own clear breast, The prefix "to" increased the force of the verb. ix. 53.

Cp. Judges

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.

Sec B.

'Tis most true,

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 1
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 unsunned 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.

Elder B.

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,

1 The golden apples which Hera (Juno) received among her wedding gifts were placed by her in charge of three nymphs, named Hesperides, and the dragon Ladon.

And gladly banish squint suspicion.

My sister is not so defenceless left

As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,
Which you remember not.

What hidden strength,

Sec. B.
Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?

Elder B. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength Which, if Heav'n gave it, may be termed her own : '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 unharboured heaths,
Infamous hills, and sandy per❜lous 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 shagged with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblenched 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 magic chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart faery 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 ?

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 naught
The friv'lous bolt of Cupid; gods and men

Feared her stern frown, and she was Queen o' th'
woods.