The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems

by John Milton; Burton Raffel

  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!