Comus (Rackham)/Part 2
Comus
Break off, break off! I feel the different paceOf som chast footing neer about this ground.Run to your shrouds within these Brakes and Trees;Our number may affright. Som 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 e’re longBe well stock’t with as fair a herd as graz’dAbout my Mother Circe. Thus I hurlMy dazling Spells into the spungy ayr,Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,And give it false presentments; lest the placeAnd 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’t words of glozing courtesie,Baited with reasons not unplausible,Wind me into the easie-hearted man,And hugg him into snares. When once her eyeHath met the vertue of this Magick dust,I shall appear som harmles VillagerWhom thrift keeps up about his Country gear.But here she comes; I fairly step aside.And hearken, if I may, her busines here.
The Lady enters
This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,My best guide now. Me thought it was the soundOf Riot and ill manag’d Merriment,Such as the jocond Flute or gamesom PipeStirs up among the loose unleter’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 loathTo meet the rudenesse and swill’d insolenceOf such late Wassailers; yet O! where elsShall I inform my unacquainted feetIn the blind mazes of this tangl’d Wood?My Brothers, when they saw me wearied outWith this long way, resolving here to lodgeUnder the spreading favour of these Pines,Stept, as they se’d, to the next Thicket sideTo bring me Berries, or such cooling fruitAs the kind hospitable Woods provide.They left me then, when the gray-hooded Eev’n,Like a sad Votarist in Palmers weed,Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus wain.But where they are, and why they came not back,Is now the labour of my thoughts; ’tis likeliestThey had ingag’d their wandring steps too far,And envious darknes, e’re they could return,Had stole them from me; els, O theevish Night,Why shouldst thou, but for som fellonious end,In thy dark lantern thus close up the StarsThat nature hung in Heav’n, and fill’d their LampsWith everlasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely Travailer?This is the place, as well as I may guess,Whence eev’n now the tumult of loud MirthWas rife, and perfet in my list’ning ear;Yet nought but single darknes do I find.What might this be? A thousand fantasiesBegin to throng into my memoryOf calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire,And airy tongues that syllable mens namesOn Sands, and Shoars, and desert Wildernesses.These thoughts may startle well, but not astoundThe vertuous mind, that ever walks attendedBy a strong siding champion, Conscience.O, welcom, pure-ey’d Faith, white-handed Hope,Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings,And thou unblemish’t form of Chastity!I see ye visibly, and now beleeveThat he, the Supreme good, t’ whom all things illAre but as slavish officers of vengeance,Would send a glistring Guardian, if need were,To keep my life and honour unassail’d.—Was I deceiv’d, or did a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night?I did not err, there does a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted Grove.I cannot hallow to my Brothers, butSuch noise as I can make to be heard farthestIle venter, for my new enliv’nd spiritsPrompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.
VI
The Lady enters
VII
. . . the StarsThat nature hung in Heav’n, and fill’d their LampsWith everlasting oil, to give due lightTo the misled and lonely Travailer.
VIII
Calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire.
SONG
Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv’st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander’s margent greenAnd in the violet imbroider’d vale Where the love-lorn NightingaleNightly 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 som flowry Cave, Tell me but where,Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear!So maist thou be translated to the skies,And give resounding grace to all Heav’ns Harmonies!
IX
Sweet Echo.
Comus
Can any mortal mixture of Earths mouldBreath such Divine inchanting ravishment?Sure, somthing holy lodges in that brest,And with these raptures moves the vocal airTo testifie his hidd’n residence!How sweetly did they float upon the wingsOf silence, through the empty-vaulted night,At every fall smoothing the Raven douneOf darknes till it smil’d! I have oft heardMy mother Circe with the Sirens three Amid’st the flowry-kirtl’d Naiades,Culling their Potent hearbs and balefull drugs;Who, as they sung, would take the prison’d soulAnd lap it in Elysium; Scylla weptAnd chid her barking waves into attention,And fell Charybdis murmur’d soft applause.Yet they in pleasing slumber lull’d the senseAnd in sweet madnes rob’d it of it self;But such a sacred and home-felt delight,Such sober certainty of waking bliss,I never heard till now. Ile speak to her,And she shall be my Queen.—Hail, forren wonder,Whom certain these rough shades did never breed!Unlesse the Goddes that in rurall shrineDwell’st here with Pan or Silvan, by blest SongForbidding every bleak unkindly FogTo touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood.
Lady
Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praiseThat is addrest to unattending Ears.Not any boast of skill, but extreme shiftHow to regain my sever’d company,Compell’d me to awake the courteous EchoTo give me answer from her mossie Couch.
X
The flowry-kirtl’d Naiades.
Comus
What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?
Lady
Dim darknes and this leavy Labyrinth.
Comus
Could that divide you from neer-ushering guides?
Lady
They left me weary on a grassie terf.
Comus
By falsehood, or discourtesie, or why?
Lady
To seek i’th vally som cool friendly Spring.
Comus
And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?
Lady
They were but twain, and purpos’d quick return.
Comus
Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented them.
Lady
How easie my misfortune is to hit!
Comus
Imports their loss, beside the present need? Lady
No less then if I should my brothers loose.
Comus
Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
Lady
As smooth as Hebe’s their unrazor’d lips.
Comus
Two such I saw, what time the labour’d OxeIn his loose traces from the furrow came,And the swink’t hedger at his Supper sate;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 then human, as they stood;I took it for a faery visionOf som gay creatures of the element,That in the colours of the Rainbow live,And play i’th plighted clouds. I was aw-strook,And, as I past, I worshipt; if those you seek,It were a journey like the path to Heav’nTo help you find them.
Lady
Gentle villager, What readiest way would bring me to that place?
Comus
Due west it rises from this shrubby point.
Lady
To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose,In such a scant allowance of Star-light,Would overtask the best Land-Pilots artWithout the sure guess of well-practiz’d feet.
Comus
I know each lane, and every alley green,Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wilde Wood,And every bosky bourn from side to side,My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood:And if your stray attendance be yet lodg’d,Or shroud within these limits, I shall knowEre morrow wake, or the low roosted larkFrom her thatch’t pallat rowse; if otherwise,I can conduct you, Lady, to a lowBut loyal cottage, where you may be safeTill further quest’.
Lady
Shepherd, I take thy word,And trust thy honest offer’d courtesie,Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds With smoaky rafters, then in tapstry HallsAnd Courts of Princes, where it first was nam’d,And yet is most pretended: In a placeLess warranted then this, or less secure,I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.Eie me, blest Providence, and square my triallTo my proportion’d strength! Shepherd, lead on.—
[Exeunt
