Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That Nature hung in heav'n, and filled 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 list'ning 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 beck’ning shadows dire,
And aery tongues that syllable men's names
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.-

Oh, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hov'ring Angel, girt with golden wings,
And thou, unblemished 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 glist'ring guardian, if need were,
To keep my life and honour unassailed.

Was I deceived, 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-enlivened spirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

SONG

Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy aery shell,

By slow Meander's margent green,

And in the violet-embroidered vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale

Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ;
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?

Oh, if thou have

Hid them in some flow'ry cave,

Tell me but where,

Sweet Queen of parley, Daughter of the Sphere !
So mayst thou be translated to the skies,

And give resounding grace to all Heav'n's harmonies!

Comus enters

Comus. 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 ev'ry fall smoothing the raven-down
Of Darkness, till it smiled! I have oft heard
My mother Circè with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades,

Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs;
Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,
And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,

1

And chid her barking waves 1 into attention,

And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause :

Virgil's "Multis circum latrantibus undis," "Æneid," vii. 588.

Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,
And in sweet madness robbed 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!
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
Forbidding ev'ry bleak, unkindly fog

To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall wood.
Lady. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that
praise

That is addressed to unattending ears;

Not any boast of skill but extreme shift,
How to regain my severed company,
Compelled 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-ush'ring guides ?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf.
Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?

Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool, friendly

spring.

Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded,

Lady?

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

Comus. Perhaps forestalling Night prevented them. Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit!

Comus. Imports their loss, besides the present

need?

Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose.

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.

Gentle Villager,

What readiest way would bring me to that place? Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby

point.

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

1 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 Phœnician, sailors steered their course.