Elder B. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.
Spirit. Ay me unhappy! Then my fears are true. Elder B. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prythee briefly show.
Spirit. I'll tell ye; 'tis not vain or fabulous (Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance),
What the sage poets, taught by th' Heav'nly Muse,
Storied of old, in high immortal verse,
Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles,
And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;
For such there be; but unbelief is blind.
Within the navel of this hideous wood,
Immured in cypress shades a sorc'rer dwells,
Of Bacchus and of Circè born, great Comus,
Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries;
And here to ev'ry thirsty wanderer
By sly enticement gives his baneful cup,
With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
And th' inglorious likeness of a beast
Fixes instead, unmoulding Reason's mintage
Charactered in the face: this have I learnt
Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts,
That brow this bottom-glade; whence night by night
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl,
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecatè
In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bow'rs.
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells,
To inveigle and invite the unwary sense
Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
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 canopied, and interwove
With flaunting honey-suckle, and began,
Wrapt 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 filled the air with barb'rous dissonance;
At which I ceased, and listened them awhile,
Till an unusual stop of sudden silence
Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds,
That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep;
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound
Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,
And stole upon the air, that ev'n Silence
Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might
Deny her nature, and be never more,
Still to be so displaced. 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 honoured Lady, your dear sister.
Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear,
And, oh poor hapless 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 mine ear, I found the place
Where that damned wisard, hid in sly disguise,
(For so by certain signs I knew), had met
Already, ere my best speed could prevent,
The aidless innocent lady his wished prey,
Who gently asked if he had seen such two,
Supposing him some neighbour villager.
Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed
Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung
Into swift flight, till I had found you here ;
Sec. B.
O Night, and Shades !
How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot
Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,
Alone, and helpless! Is this the confidence
You gave me, Brother ?
Lean on it safely; not a period
Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats
Of malice, or of sorc'ry, or that pow'r
Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm :
Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,
Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled;
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
Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed and self-consumed.
The pillared 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 damned magician, let him be girt
With all the grisly legions that troop
Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms
'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out,
And force him to restore his purchase1 back,
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,
1 This word is here used in its primary, etymological sense-what is stolen (French pourchasser).
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.
How durst thou then thyself approach so near,
As to make this relation ?
How to secure the lady from surprisal,
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad,1
Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled
In ev'ry virtuous plant, and healing herb,
That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray :
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing ;
Which when I did, he on the tender grass
Would sit and hearken ev'n to ecstasy,
And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vig'rous faculties.
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
But of divine effect, he culled me out;
The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on't,
But in another country, as he said,
Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil:
Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain
Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon:
And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly,'
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.
He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,
It is possible that the allusion is to Milton's friend, Charles Diodati, who was skilled in botany.
The herb which protected Odysseus against Circe's sorceries. See "Odyssey," x.
Apparently, Milton's own invention.
coined from Hæmonia, a name for Thrace, the land of magic.
And bade me keep it as of sovran use
'Gainst all enchantments, mildew, blast or damp,
Or ghastly furies' apparition.
I pursed it up, but little reck'ning made,
Till now that this extremity compelled:
But now I find it true; for by this means
I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,
Entered the very lime-twigs1 of his spells,
And yet came off. If you have this about you
(As I will give you when we go), you may
Boldly assault the necromancer's Hall;
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
And brandished blade, rush on him; break his glass,
And shed the luscious liquour on the ground,
But seize his Wand; though he and his cursed crew
Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,
Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke,
Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.
Elder B. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee; And some good Angel bear a shield before us!
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness; soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise
Comus. Nay, Lady, sit; if I but wave this Wand, Your nerves are all chained up in alablaster,2
And you a statue or, as Daphnè was,
Flying from Apollo, Daphne was changed into a laurel-tree.
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