COMUS. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them?
LADY. How easy my misfortune is to hit! 763
COMUS. Imports 764 their loss, beside the present need?
LADY. No less than if I should my brothers lose.
COMUS. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
LADY. As smooth as Hebe’s,765 their unrazored lips.
COMUS. Two such I saw, what time the labored ox
In his loose traces766 from the furrow came,
And the swinked 767 hedger 768 at his supper sat.
I saw ’em under a green mantling 769 vine
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots.
Their port 770 was more than human, as they stood:
I took it for a fairy vision
Of some gay 771 creatures of the element
That in the colors of the rainbow live
And play i’ th’ pleated clouds. I was awe-struck,
And as I passed I worshipped! If those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heav’n
To 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-pilot’s art,
Without the sure guess of well-practiced feet.
COMUS. I know each lane, and every alley green,
Dingle772 or bushy dell773 of this wide wood,
And every bosky774 bourn,775 from side to side
My daily walks and ancient neighborhood,
And if your stray attendance776 be yet lodged777
Or shroud778 within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake or the low-roosted lark
From her thatched pallet 779 rouse. If otherwise,
I can conduct you, lady, to a low780
But loyal781 cottage, where you may be safe
Till further quest.
LADY. Shepherd, I take thy word
And trust thy honest offered courtesy,
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters than in tap’stry halls
And courts of princes, where it first was named
And yet is most pretended. In a place
Less warranted782 than this, or less secure,
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
Eye me, blest providence, and square783 my trial
To my proportioned strength!
Shepherd, lead on.—
The two brothers.
BROTHER 1. Unmuffle, ye faint stars, and thou fair moon
That wont’st 784 to love the traveller’s benison,785
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 786
Through a rush787 candle from the wicker hole788
Of some clay habitation visit us
With thy long levelled rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady789
Or Tyrian790 Cynosure.791
BROTHER 2. Or if our eyes
Be barred that happiness, might we but hear
The folded792 flocks penned in their wattled793 cotes,794
Or sound of pastoral reed795 with oaten796 stops,797
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery dames,
It would be some solace yet, some little cheering
In this close798 dungeon of innumerous boughs.
But O, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!
Where may she wander now? Whither betake her
From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?
Perhaps some cold bank799 is her bolster,800 now,
Or ’gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught801 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?
BROTHER 1. Peace, brother: be not over-exquisite802
To cast803 the fashion804 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,805
Or so unprincipled in virtue’s book
And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms806 ever,
As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)
Could stir the constant807 mood of her calm thoughts
And put them into misbecoming808 plight.809
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,810
She plumes811 her feathers and lets grow her wings
That in the various bustle of resort812
Were all too ruffled,813 and sometimes impaired.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i’ th’ center814 and enjoy bright day,
But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts,
Benighted815 walks under the midday sun—
Himself is his own dungeon.
BROTHER 2. ’Tis most true
That musing meditation most affects816
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,817
Far from the cheerful haunt818 of men and herds,
And sits as safe as in a Senate house—
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,819 390
His few books, or his beads,820 or maple dish,
Or do his gray hairs any violence?
But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye,
To save her blossoms and defend her fruit
From the rash hand of bold incontinence.821
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
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 attempt822 the person823
Of our unownèd824 sister.
BROTHER 1. I do not, brother,
Infer,825 as if I thought my sister’s state
Secure without all doubt or controversy.
Yet where an equal poise826 of hope and fear
Does arbitrate 827 th’ event, my nature is
That I incline to hope rather than fear
And banish, gladly, squint 828 suspicion.
My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine. She has a hidden strength
Which you remember not.
BROTHER 2. What hidden strength,
Unless the strength of Heav’n, if you mean that?
BROTHER 1. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength
Which, if Heav’n gave it, may be termed her own.
’Tis chastity, my brother, chastity.
She that has that is clad in complete st
eel,
And like a quivered nymph with arrows keen
May trace 829 huge forests and unharbored 830 heaths,831
Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds,
Where through the sacred rays of chastity
No savage fierce, bandit or mountaineer,
Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
Yea, there where very desolation dwells,
By grots 832 and caverns shagged 833 with horrid 834 shades,
She may pass on with unblenched 835 majesty—
Be it not done in pride or in presumption.
Some say no evil thing that walks by night
In fog, or fire, by lake or moory836 fen,837
Blue meager hag or stubborn unlaid 838 ghost
That breaks his chains at curfew time,
No goblin or swart 839 fairy of the mine,840
Has hurtful power o’er true virginity.
Do you believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms841 of chastity?
Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, forever chaste,
Wherewith she tamed the brinded 842 lioness
And spotted mountain pard,843 but set at naught
The frivolous bolt 844 of Cupid. Gods and men
Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o’ th’ woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield
That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dashed 845 brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank 846 awe!
So dear to Heav’n is saintly chastity
That when a soul is found sincerely so
A thousand liveried 847 Angels lackey848 her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream and solemn vision
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with Heav’nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th’ outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul’s essence,
Till all be made immortal. But when lust
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish 849 act of sin
Lets in 850 defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,851
Embodies 852 and embrutes 853 till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being.
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp,
Oft seen in charnel854 vaults and sepulchers
Hovering, and sitting by a new-made grave,
As855 loath to leave the body that it loved
And linked itself, by carnal sensual’ty,
To a degenerate and degraded state.
BROTHER 2. How charming is divine856 philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbèd, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo’s lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.
BROTHER 1. List, list! I hear
Some faroff halloo break the silent air.
BROTHER 2. Methought so too. What should it be?
BROTHER 1. For certain,
Either someone, like us night-foundered here,
Or else some neighbor woodman—or, at worst,
Some roving robber calling to his fellows.
BROTHER 2. Heav’n keep my sister! Again: again, and
near!
Best draw857 and stand upon our guard.
BROTHER 1. I’ll halloo.
If he be friendly, he comes well. If not,
Defence is a good cause, and Heav’n be for us.
The attendant spirit [enters], habited like a shepherd.
That halloo I should know. What are you? Speak!
Come not too near: you fall on iron stakes,858 else!
SPIRIT. What voice is that, my young lord? Speak again.
BROTHER 2. O brother, ’tis my father’s shepherd—sure!
BROTHER 1. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains859 have oft
delayed
The huddling 860 brook, to hear his madrigal,
And sweetened every muskrose of the dale.
How cam’st thou here, good swain? Hath any ram
Slipped from his fold, or young kid lost his dam,861
Or straggling862 weather the pent flock forsook?863
How could’st thou find this dark, sequestered nook?
SPIRIT. O my loved master’s heir, and his next 864 joy,
I came not here on such a trivial toy
As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth
Of pilfering wolf. Not all the fleecy wealth
That doth enrich these downs865 is worth a thought
To this my errand, and the care 866 it brought!
But O, my virgin lady: where is she?
How chance she is not in your company?
BROTHER 1. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame
Or our neglect we lost her as we came.
SPIRIT. Aye me, unhappy! Then my fears are true.
BROTHER I. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee, briefly show.
SPIRIT. I’ll tell you. ’Tis not vain or fabulous 867
(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance),
What the sage poets, taught by th’ Heav’nly Muse,
Storied 868 of old in high immortal verse
Of dire chimeras 869 and enchanted isles,
And rifted870 rocks whose entrance leads to Hell,
For such there be. But unbelief is blind.
Within the navel of this hideous Wood,
Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skilled in all his mother’s witcheries,
And here to every thirsty wanderer
By sly enticement gives his baneful871 cup,
With many murmurs872 mixed, whose pleasing poison
The visage quite transforms of him who drinks,
And the inglorious likeness of a beast
Fixes instead, unmoulding 873 reason’s mintage874
Charactered875 in the face. This have I learned,
Tending my flocks hard by, i’ th’ hilly crofts876
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night
He and his monstrous rout877 are heard to howl
Like stabled878 wolves or tigers at their prey,
Doing abhorrèd rites to Hecate879
In their obscurèd haunts of inmost880 bow’rs.
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells
T’ inveigle and invite th’ unwary sense
Of them that pass, unweeting,881 by the way.
This evening, late—by then the chewing flocks
Had ta’n their supper on the savory herb—
I sat me down to watch, upon a bank
With ivy canopied and interwove
With flaunting882 honeysuckle, and began,
Wrapped in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
To meditate my rural minstrelsy
Till Fancy had her fill, but ere a close883
The wonted884 roar was up amidst the woods
And filled the air with barbarous dissonance,
At which I ceased and listened them a while,
Till an unusual stop of sudden silence
Gave respite to the drowsy, frightened steeds
That draw the litter of close-curtained sleep.
At last a soft and solemn breathing sound
Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes
And stole upon the air, that even silence
Was took, ere she was ware, and wished she might
Deny her nature and
be never more
Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,
And took in strains that might create a soul
Under the ribs of Death. But O, ere long
Too well I did perceive it was the voice
Of my most honored lady, your dear sister.
Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear,
And O, poor hapless nightingale, thought I,
How sweet thou sing’st, how near the deadly snare!
Then down the lawns I ran, with headlong haste,
Through paths and turnings often trod by day,
Till guided by mine ear I found the place
Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise
(For so by certain signs I knew), had met
Already, ere my best speed could prevent,885
The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey,
Who gently asked if he had seen such two,
Supposing him some neighbor villager.
Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed
Ye were the two she meant. With that I sprung
Into swift flight, till I had found you here.
But further know I not.
BROTHER 2. O night and shades,
How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot
Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,
Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence
You gave me, brother?
BROTHER 1. Yes, and keep it still,
Lean on it safely: not a period886
Shall be unsaid for me! Against the threats
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
Which erring men call chance, this I hold firm:
Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,
Surprised by unjust force—but not enthralled.887
Yea, even that which mischief 888 meant most harm
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory,
But evil on itself shall back recoil
And mix no more with goodness, when at last
Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail,
The pillared firmament is rottenness
And earth’s base built on stubble. But come, let’s on!
Against th’ opposing will and arm of Heav’n
May never this just sword be lifted up
But for that damned magician, let him be girt
With all the grisly legions889 that troop
Under the sooty flag of Acheron,890
Harpies891 and hydras,892 or all the monstrous bugs893
’Twixt Africa and Ind! I’ll find him out
And force him to restore his purchase894 back,
Or drag him by the curls and cleave his scalp
Down to the hips!
The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems Page 8