'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. Cp. Judges ix. 53.
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.
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.
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,
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.
Sec. B.
What hidden strength,
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.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield
That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace, that dashed 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 liv'ried Angels lackey 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 turns 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,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, 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
Ling’ring, and sitting by a new made grave,
As loth to leave the body that it loved,
And linked itself by carnal sensualty
To a degen'rate and degraded state.
Sec. B. How charming is Divine Philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbèd, as dull fools suppose; But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Some far-off halloo break the silent air.
Sec. B. Methought so too; what should it be?
Elder B. For certain Either some one like us night-foundered here, Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, Some roving robber calling to his fellows.
Sec. B. Heav'n keep my sister !-Again, 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 Heav'n be for us!
The Attendant Spirit enters, habited like
a Shepherd
That halloo I should know.-What are you? Speak; Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else.
Spirit. What voice is that? My young lord? Speak again.
Sec. B. O Brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. Elder B. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delayed
The huddling brook to hear its madrigal,
And sweetened ev'ry muskrose of the dale ?
How cam'st thou here, good Swain? Hath any ram
Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,
Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?
How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook?
Spirit. O my loved master's Heir, and his next joy,
I came not here on such a trivial toy
As a strayed 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?
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