And in thy right hand lead with thee
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulchered, in such pomp dost lie, 15 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
The mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free; To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweet-briar or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine; While the cock with lively din,
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Where the great Sun begins his state, Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landskip round it measures: Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied; Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some Beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two agèd oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met Are at their savoury dinner set
Of herbs and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses; And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tanned haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure delight
By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men,
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, 120 With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask and antique pageantry; Such sights as youthful Poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
In notes with many a winding bout
The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony;
The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound
To many a youth and many a maid Dancing in the chequered shade; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holyday,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
To hit the sense of human sight,
And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
And, therefore to our weaker view
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 115
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended. Yet thou art higher far descended; Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she; in Saturn's reign, Such mixture was not held a stain. Oft in glimmering bowers and glades He met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of cypress lawn Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come; but keep thy wonted state, With even step, and musing gait, And looks commércing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
Or, if the air will not permit,
Some still removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the Bellman's drowsy charm
To bless the doors from nightly harm. Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere The spirit of Plato, to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook; And of those Dæmons that are found In fire, air, flood, or underground, Whose power hath a true consent With planet or with element. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptered pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine, Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskined stage. But, O sad Virgin! that thy power Might raise Musæus from his bower; Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek; Or call up him that left half-told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canacé to wife,
That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar King did ride; And if aught else great Bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear. 120 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, Till civil-suited Morn appear,
'Less Philomel will deign a song,
In her sweetest saddest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,
Not tricked and frounced as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt,
But kerchieft in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Into some brutish form of wolf or bear, Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, All other parts remaining as they were. And they, so perfect is their misery, Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than be- fore, 75
And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove, Chances to pass through this adventurous glade,
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy, As now I do. But first I must put off These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris' woof, And take the weeds and likeness of a swain That to the service of this house belongs, 85 Who, with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied 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 90 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now. Comus enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of Monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering. They come in making a riotous and unruly noise with torches in their hands.
Comus. The star that bids the shepherd
Imitate the starry Quire,
Who, in their nightly watchful spheres, Lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas, with all their finny
Now to the Moon in wavering morrice move; And on the tawny sands and shelves Trip the pert Faeries and the dapper Elves. By dimpled brook and fountain-brim, The Wood-Nymphs, decked with daisies
That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air! Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,
Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done, and none left out Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice Morn on the Indian steep From her cabined loop-hole peep, And to the tell-tale Sun descry Our concealed solemnity.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round.
Break off, break off! I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground.
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