Comus (Rackham)/Part 3

by John Milton

XI

Enter the Two Brothers.

Enter the Two Brothers

Elder Brother

Unmuffie, ye faint stars; and thou, fair Moon,That wontst to love the travailers benizon,Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,And disinherit Chaos, that raigns hereIn double night of darknes, and of shades;Or, if your influence be quite damm’d upWith black usurping mists, som gentle taper,Though a rush Candle from the wicker holeOf som clay habitation, visit usWith thy long levell’d rule of streaming light,And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,Or Tyrian Cynosure.

Second Brother

Or, if our eyesBe barr’d that happines, might we but hearThe folded flocks, pen’d in their watled cotes, Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,Or whistle from the Lodge, or village cockCount the night watches to his feathery Dames,’Twould be som solace yet, som little chearing,In this close dungeon of innumerous bowes.But O, that haples virgin, our lost sister!Where may she wander now, whether betake herFrom the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistlesPerhaps som cold bank is her boulster now,Or ’gainst the rugged bark of som broad ElmLeans her unpillow’d head, fraught with sad fears:What if in wild amazement and affright,Or while we speak, within the direfull graspOf Savage hunger, or of Savage heat?

Elder Brother

Peace, brother, be not over-exquisiteTo cast the fashion of uncertain evils;For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,What need a man forestall his date of grief,And run to meet what he would most avoid?Or, if they be but false alarms of Fear,How bitter is such self-delusion!I do not think my sister so to seek,Or so unprincipl’d in vertues book, And the sweet peace that goodnes boosoms ever,As that the single want of light and noise(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,And put them into mis-becoming plight.Vertue could see to do what vertue wouldBy her own radiant light, though Sun and MoonWere in the flat Sea sunk: and Wisdoms selfOft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,That in the various bussle of resortWere all to ruffl’d, and somtimes impair’d.He that has light within his own cleer brestMay sit i’th center and enjoy bright day;But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,Benighted walks under the mid-day Sun;Himself is his own dungeon.

Second Brother

Tis most trueThat musing meditation most affectsThe pensive secrecy of desert cell,Far from the cheerfull haunt of men and herds,And sits as safe as in a Senat House: For who would rob a Hermit of his Weeds,His few Books, or his Beads, or Maple Dish,Or do his gray hairs any violence?But beauty, like the fair Hesperian TreeLaden with blooming gold, had need the guardOf dragon watch with uninchanted eye,To save her blossoms and defend her fruitFrom the rash hand of bold Incontinence.You may as well spred out the unsun’d heapsOf Misers treasure by an out-laws den,And tell me it is safe, as bid me hopeDanger will wink on Opportunity,And let a single helpless maiden passUninjur’d in this wilde surrounding wast.Of night or lonelines it recks me not;I fear the dred events that dog them both,Lest som ill greeting touch attempt the personOf our unowned sister.

Elder Brother

I do not, brother,Inferr as if I thought my sisters stateSecure without all doubt or controversie:Yet, where an equall poise of hope and fearDoes arbitrate th’event, my nature is That I encline to hope rather then fear,And gladly banish squint suspicion.My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine; she has a hidden strengthWhich you remember not.

Second Brother

What hidden strength,Unless the strength of Heav’n, if you mean that ?

Elder Brother

I mean that too, but yet a hidden strengthWhich, if Heav’n gave it, may be term’d her own:’Tis chastity, my brother, chastity:She that has that is clad in compleat steel,And, like a quiver’d Nymph with Arrows keen,May trace huge Forests, and unharbour’d Heaths,Infamous Hills, and sandy perilous wildes;Where, through the sacred rayes of Chastity,No savage fierce, Bandite, or mountaineerWill dare to soyl her Virgin purity;Yea, there where very desolation dwels,By grots and caverns shag’d with horrid shades,She may pass on with unblench’t majesty,Be it not don in pride, or in presumption. Som say, no evil thing that walks by nightIn fog, or fire, by lake or moorish fen,Blew meagre Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghostThat breaks his magick chains at curfeu time,No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,Hath hurtfull power o’re true virginity.Do ye beleeve me yet, or shall I callAntiquity from the old Schools of GreeceTo testifie the arms of Chastity?Hence had the huntress Dian her dred bow,Fair silver-shafted Queen for ever chaste,Wherwith she tam’d the brinded lionessAnd spotted mountain pard, but set at noughtThe frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and menFear’d her stern frown, and she was queen oth’What was that snaky-headed Gorgon sheild

XII

Som say, no evil thing that walks by nightIn fog, or fire, by lake or moorish fen,Blew meager Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghostThat breaks his magick chains at curfeu time;No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,Hath hurtfull power o’re true virginity.

XIII

XIV

XIV

The huntress Dian.

That wise Minerva wore, unconquer’d Virgin,Wherwith she freez’d her foes to congeal’d stone,But rigid looks of Chast austerity,And noble grace that dash’t brute violenceWith sudden adoration, and blank aw?So dear to Heav’n is Saintly chastity,That, when a soul is found sincerely so,A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,And in cleer dream, and solemn vision,Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,Till oft convers with heav’nly habitantsBegin to cast a beam on th’outward shape,The unpolluted temple of the mind,And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,Till all be made immortal. But, when lustBy unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,But most by leud and lavish act of sin,Lets in defilement to the inward parts,The soul grows clotted by contagion,Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite looseThe divine property of her first being.Such are those thick and gloomy shadows dampOft seen in Charnell vaults and SepulchersLingering, and sitting by a new made grave, As loath to leave the body that it lov’d,And link’t it self by carnal sensualtyTo a degenerate and degraded state.

Second brother

How charming is divine Philosophy!Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,But musical as is Apollo’s lute,And a perpetual feast of nectar’d sweets,Where no crude surfet raigns.

Elder Brother

List, list, I hearSom far off hallow break the silent Air.

Second Brother

Me thought so too; what should it be?

Elder Brother

For certainEither som one like us night-founder’d here,Or els som neighbour Wood-man, or at worst,Som roaving Robber calling to his fellows.

Second Brother

Heav’n keep my sister! Agen, agen, and neer;Best draw, and stand upon our guard. Elder Brother

Ile hallow;If he be friendly, he comes well; if not,Defence is a good cause, and Heav’n be for us!

Enter the attendant Spirit, habited like a Shepherd.

That hallow I should know. What are you? speak;Com not too neer, you fall on iron stakes else.

Spirit

What voice is that? my young Lord? speak agen.

Second Brother

O brother, ’tis my father Shepherd, sure.

Elder Brother

Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delaidThe huddling brook to hear his madrigal,And sweeten’d every muskrose of the dale?How cam’st thou here, good Swain? hath any ramSlip’t from the fold, or young Kid lost his dam,Or straggling weather the pen’t flock forsook?How couldst thou find this dark sequester’d nook? Spirit

O my lov’d masters heir, and his next joy,I came not here on such a trivial toyAs a stray’d Ewe, or to pursue the stealthOf pilfering Woolf; not all the fleecy wealthThat doth enrich these Downs, is worth a thoughtTo this my errand, and the care it brought.But O! my Virgin Lady, where is she?How chance she is not in your company?

Elder Brother

To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blameOr our neglect, we lost her as we came.

Spirit

Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.

Elder Brother

What fears, good Thyrsis? Prethee briefly shew.

Spirit

Ile tell ye. ’Tis not vain or fabulous,(Though so esteem’d by shallow ignorance,)What the sage Poets, taught by th’ heav’nly Muse, Storied of old in high immortal versOf dire Chimera’s and inchanted Iles,And rifted Rocks whose entrance leads to hell;For such there be, but unbelief is blind. Within the navil of this hideous Wood,Immur’d in cypress shades, a Sorcerer dwels,Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,Deep skill’d in all his mothers witcheries;And here to every thirsty wandererBy sly enticement gives his banefull cup,With many murmurs mix t; whose pleasing poisonThe visage quite transforms of him that drinks,And the inglorious likenes of a beastFixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintageCharacter’d in the face; this have I learn’tTending my flocks hard by i’th hilly croftsThat brow this bottom glade; whence night by nightHe and his monstrous rout are heard to howlLike stabl’d wolves or tigers at their prey,Doing abhorred rites to HecateIn their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.Yet have they many baits, and guilefull spellsTo inveigle and invite th’unwary senseOf them that pass unweeting by the way.This evening late, by then the chewing flocks Had ta’n their supper on the savoury HerbOf Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,I sate me down to watch upon a bankWith Ivy canopied, and interwoveWith flaunting Hony-suckle; and began,Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,To meditate my rural minstrelsieTill fancy had her fill. But, ere a close,The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,And fill’d the Air with barbarous dissonance;At which I ceas’t, and listen’d them a while,Till an unusuall stop of sudden silenceGave respit to the drowsie frighted steedsThat draw the litter of close-curtain’d sleep.At last a soft and solemn breathing soundRose like a steam of rich distill’d Perfumes,And stole upon the Air, that even SilenceWas took e’re she was ware, and wish’t she mightDeny her nature, and be never more,Still to be so displac’t. I was all eare,And took in strains that might create a soulUnder the ribs of Death. But O! ere longToo well I did perceive it was the voiceOf my most honour’d Lady, your dear sister.Amaz’d I stood, harrow’d with grief and fear;

XVI

The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,And fill'd the Air with barbarous dissonance.

And O poor hapless Nightingale, thought I,How sweet thou sing’st, how neer the deadly snare!Then down the Lawns I ran with headlong hast,Through paths and turnings oft’n trod by day,Till, guided by mine ear, I found the placeWhere that damn’d wisard, hid in sly disguise(For so by certain signes I knew), had metAlready, ere my best speed could prevent,The aidless innocent Lady, his wish’t prey;Who gently ask’t if he had seen such two,Supposing him som neighbour villager;Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess’tYe were the two she mean’t; with that I sprungInto swift flight, till I had found you here,But furder know I not.

Second Brother

O night and shades,How are ye joyn’d with hell in triple knotAgainst th’unarmed weakness of one Virgin,Alone and helpless! Is this the confidenceYou gave me, Brother?

Elder Brother

Yes, and keep it still; Lean on it safely; not a periodShall be unsaid for me: against the threatsOf malice or of sorcery, or that powerWhich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm:Vertue may be assail’d, but never hurt,Surpriz’d by unjust force, but not enthrall’d;Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm,Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.But evil on it self shall back recoyl,And mix no more with goodness, when, at lastGather’d like scum, and setl’d to it self,It shall be in eternal restless changeSelf-fed and self-consum’d. If this fail,The pillar’d firmament is rott’nness,And earths base built on stubble. But com, let’s onAgainst th’opposing will and arm of Heav’nMay never this just sword be lifted up;But for that damn’d magician, let him be girtWith all the greisly legions that troopUnder the sooty flag of Acheron,Harpyies and Hydra’s, or all the monstrous forms’Twixt Africa and Inde, Ile find him out,And force him to restore his purchase back,Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death,Curs’d as his life. Spirit

Alas ! good ventrous youth,I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise;But here thy sword can do thee little stead:Farr other arms and other weapons mustBe those that quell the might of hellish charms;He with his bare wand can unthred thy joyntsAnd crumble all thy sinews.

Elder Brother

Why, prethee, Shepherd,How durst thou then thy self approach so neerAs to make this relation?

Spirit

Care and utmost shiftsHow to secure the Lady from surprisalBrought to my mind a certain Shepherd LadOf small regard to see to, yet well skill’dIn every vertuous plant and healing herbThat spreds her verdant leaf to th’morning ray.He lov’d me well, and oft would beg me sing,Which when I did, he on the tender grassWould sit, and hearken even to extasie; And in requitall ope his leather’n scrip,And shew me simples of a thousand names,Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,But of divine effect, he cull’d me out;The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,But in another Countrey, as he said,Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyl:Unknown, and like esteem’d, and the dull swaynTreads on it daily with his clouted shoon;And yet more med’cinal is it then that MolyThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;He call’d it Hœmony, and gave it me,And bad me keep it as of sov’ran use’Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp,Or gastly furies apparition;I purs’t it up, but little reck’ning madeTill now that this extremity compell’d,But now I find it true; for by this meansI knew the foul inchanter though disguis’d,Enter’d the very lime-twigs of his spells,And yet came off: if you have this about you(As I will give you when we go), you mayBoldly assault the necromancers hall;Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood And brandish’t blade rush on him, break his glass,And shed the lushious liquor on the ground;But sease his wand: though he and his curst crewFeirce signe of battail make, and menace high,Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoak,Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

Elder Brother

Thyrsis, lead on apace, Ile follow thee;And som good angel bear a sheild before us!