Which these dull shades will ne'er report.
Hail goddess of nocturnal sport,

Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame,
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom.
And makes one blot of all the air,
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecate, and befriend
Us, thy vow'd priests, till utmost end

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn on th' Indian steep

From her cabin'd loop-hole peep,

And to the tell-tale sun descry

Our conceal'd solemnity.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground

In a light fantastic round.

The Measure.

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground. Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees; . Our number may affright: Some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art)

Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains; I shall ere long
Be well stock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazzling spells into the spongy air,
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
And give it false presentments, lest the place
And my quaint habits, breed astonishment,
And put the damsel to suspicious flight,
Which must not be, for that's against my course;
I under fair pretence of friendly ends,
And well plac'd words of glozing courtesy
Baited with reasons not unplausible,

Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

And hug him into snares.

When once her eye

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,

I shall appear some harmless villager,
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here she comes, I fairly step aside,

And hearken, if I may, her business here.

This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,

Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pip
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,
When for their teeming flocks and granges full,
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath
To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence
Of such late wassailers; yet O, where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My Brothers when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,
Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
They left me then when the gray-hooded even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,

Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts; likeliest
They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far,
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had stole them from me; else, O thievish Night,
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That nature hung in heaven, and fill'd 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 airy 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.-
O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,
And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity;
I see you visibly, and now believe

That he, the Supreme Good, t' 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 unassail'd.
Was I deceiv'd, 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 enliven'd spirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

SONG.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell,

By slow Meander's margent green,

And in the violet-embroider'd vale,
Where the lovelorn nightingale

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

O if thou have

Hid them in some flowery cave,

Tell me but where,

Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere,
So mayst thou be translated to the skies,

And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies.

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 every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades
Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs,
Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
And lap in Elysium; Scylla wept,

And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause :
Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense
And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself:
But such a sacred, and homefelt 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 Silvan by bless'd song
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog

To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall wood.
Lady. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise
That is address'd to unattending ears;

Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Com. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?

Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth. Com. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides ?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf.
Com. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
Lady. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly spring.
Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?
Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick

return.

Com. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them? Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit!

Com. Imports their loss, beside the present need? Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. Com. Where they of manly prime, or youthful

bloom?

Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. Com. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink'd 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 fairy vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,

That in the colours of the rainbow live,

And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck
And as I pass'd, I worshipp'd; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to heaven,
To help you find them.

Lady. Gentle villager,

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

G