Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed
In unsuperfluous even proportion,

And she no whit encumbered with her store;
And then the Giver would be better thanked,
His praise due paid: for swinish gluttony
Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder.

Shall I go on?

Or have I said enow? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the sun-clad power of chastity

Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?
Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend

The sublime notion and high mystery

That must be uttered to unfold the sage

And serious doctrine of Virginity;

780

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness than this thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,

790

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.

Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits

To such a flame of sacred vehemence

That dumb things would be moved to sympathise, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,

Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.

Comus. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 800 Her words set off by some superior power;

And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus

To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly.-Come, no more!
This is mere moral babble, and direct

VOL. I.

Against the canon laws of our foundation.

I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the lees
And settlings of a melancholy blood.

But this will cure all straight; one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.

810

The BROTHERS rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his
hand, and break it against the ground: his rout make sign of re-
sistance, but are all driven in. The ATTENDANT SPIRIT comes in.
Spir. What! have you let the false enchanter scape?
O ye mistook; ye should have snatched his wand,
And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the Lady that sits here

In stony fetters fixed and motionless.

Yet stay be not disturbed; now I bethink me, 820 Some other means I have which may be used,

Which once of Melibœus old I learnt,

The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains.

There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream: Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure;

Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,

830

That had the sceptre from his father Brute.
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
Of her enragèd stepdame, Guendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.
The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in,
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall;
Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
In nectared lavers strewed with asphodil,
And through the porch and inlet of each sense
Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived,

840

And underwent a quick immortal change,
Made Goddess of the river. Still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,
Which she with precious vialed liquors heals:
For which the shepherds, at their festivals,
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850 Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.

And, as the old swain said, she can unlock

The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,
If she be right invoked in warbled song;

For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift

To aid a virgin, such as was herself,
In hard-besetting need. This will I try,

And add the power of some adjuring verse.

Sabrina fair,

Song.

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ;
Listen for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save!

Listen, and appear to us,

In name of great Oceanus.

By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,

And Tethys' grave majestic pace;

By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard's hook;
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;

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870

By Leucothea's lovely hands,

And her son that rules the strands;
By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet;
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks
Sleeking her soft alluring locks;

By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance;
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answered have.

Listen and save!

SABRINA rises, attended by Water-nymphs, and sings.

By the rushy-fringed bank,

Where grows the willow and the osier dank,

My sliding chariot stays,

Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen
Of turkis blue, and emerald green,

That in the channel strays;

Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,

That bends not as I tread.
Gentle swain, at thy request
I am here!

Spir. Goddess dear,

We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distressed

Through the force and through the wile

Of unblessed enchanter vile.

880

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900

Sabr. Shepherd, 'tis my office best

To help ensnared chastity.

Brightest Lady, look on me.

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have kept of precious cure ;
Thrice upon thy finger's tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip:
Next this marble venomed seat,

Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,

I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.
Now the spell hath lost his hold;

And I must haste ere morning hour

To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

SABRINA descends, and THE LADY rises out of her seat.

Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine,

Sprung of old Anchises' line,

May thy brimmèd waves for this

Their full tribute never miss

From a thousand petty rills,

That tumble down the snowy hills :
Summer drouth or singèd air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October's torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill with mud;
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl and the golden ore;

May thy lofty head be crowned

With many a tower and terrace round,
And here and there thy banks upon

With groves of myrrh and cinnamon.

910

920

930

Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace, Let us fly this cursed place,

Lest the sorcerer us entice

With some other new device.

940