COMUS
��45
��That wont'st to love the travailler's beni-
son, Stoop thy pale visage through an amber
cloud,
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here In double night of darkness and of shades ; Or, if your influence be quite dammed up With black usurping mists, some gentle
taper,
Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole Of some clay habitation, visit us With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 34 o
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian Cynosure.
Sec. Bro. Or, if our eyes
Be barred that happiness, might we but
hear The folded flocks, penned in their wattled
cotes,
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night-watches to his feathery
dames, 'T would be some solace yet, some little
cheering,
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But, Oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister ! Where may she wander now, whither be- take her 351 From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and
thistles ?
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad
elm Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with
sad fears.
What if in wild amazement and affright, Or, while we speak, within the direful
grasp
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat ! Eld. Bro. Peace, brother: be not over- exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; 360 For, grant they be so, while they rest un- known,
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 unprincipled in virtue's book, And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms 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, 37 1
And put them into misbecoming plight. Virtue could see to do what Virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and
moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's
self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her
wings,
That, in the various bustle of resort, Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes im- paired. 380 He that has light within his own clear
breast
May sit i' the centre, 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.
Sec. Bro. 'T is most true
That musing Meditation most affects The pensive secrecy of desert cell, Far from the cheerful haunt of men and
herds,
And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; For who would rob a Hermit of his weeds, His few books, or his beads, or maple
dish, 391
Or do his grey hairs any violence ? But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian Tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the
guard
Of dragon-watch with uninchanted eye To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit, From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. You may as well spread out the unsunned
heaps
Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400 Danger will wink on Opportunity, And let a single helpless maiden pass Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. Of night or loneliness it recks me not; I fear the dread events that dog them both, Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the
person Of our unowned sister.
Eld. Bro. I do not, brother,
Infer as if I thought my sister's state Secure without all doubt or controversy;
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