And keep unsteady 655 Nature to her law,
And the low656 world in measured 657 motion draw
After the heav’nly tune, which none can hear
Of human mould, with gross 658 unpurgèd 659 ear.
And yet such music worthiest were to blaze
The peerless height of her immortal praise,
Whose luster leads us, and for her most fit,
If my inferior hand or voice could hit
Inimitable sounds. Yet as we go
Whate’er the skill of lesser gods can show
I will assay,660 her worth to celebrate.
And so attend 661 ye toward her glittering state,
Where ye may all (that are of noble stem)662
Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture’s 663 hem.
2. Song
O’er the smooth enamelled 664 green
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I sing
And touch the warbled string.
Under the shady roof
Of branching elm, star-proof,665
Follow me:
I will bring you where she sits,
Clad in splendor as befits
Her deity.
Such a rural queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
3. Song
Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more
By sandy Ladon’s 666 lillied banks.
On old Lycaeus,667 or Cyllene 668 hoar,669
Trip no more in twilight ranks.
Though Erymanth670 your loss deplore
A better soil shall give you thanks.
From the stony Maenalus 671
Bring your flocks and live with us.
Here ye shall have greater grace
To serve the lady of this place.
Though Syrinx 672 your Pan’s mistress were,
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her.
Such a rural queen
All Arcadia hath not seen.
COMUS: A MASQUE673
1634; revised 1637
THE PERSONS
the attendant spirit, afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis
Comus, with his crew
the lady
brother 1 [older]
brother 2 [younger]
Sabrina, the nymph
The first scene discovers a wild wood. The attendant spirit
descends (or enters):
Before the starry threshold of Jove’s court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
Of bright aerial spirits live ensphered
In regions mild, of calm and serene air,
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot
Which men call earth and, with low-thoughtèd care,
Confined and pestered in this pinfold 674 here,
Strive to keep up a frail and fev’rish being,
Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true servants,
Amongst the enthronèd gods, on sainted seats.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that golden key
That opes the palace of eternity:
To such my errand is, and but for such
I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds
With the rank vapors of this sin-worn mould.
But to my task. Neptune—besides the sway
Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream—
Took in, by lot twixt high and nether Jove,675
Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles
That, like to rich and various gems, inlay
The unadornèd bosom of the deep,
Which he, to grace his tributary gods,
By course676 commits to several government
And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns
And wield their little tridents. But this isle,
The greatest and the best of all the main,677
He quarters to his blue-haired deities,
And all this tract that fronts the falling sun
A noble peer, of mickle678 trust and power,
Has in his charge, with tempered679 awe680 to guide
An old and haughty nation, proud in arms,
Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore,
Are coming to attend their father’s state
Lies through the perplex’d681 paths of this drear Wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows
Threats the forlorn and wand’ring passenger.
And here their tender age might suffer peril,
But that by quick command from sov’reign Jove
I was dispatched for their defence and guard.
And listen why, for I will tell you now
What never yet was heard in tale or song
From old or modern bard, in hall or bow’r.
Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
Crushed the sweet poison of mis-used wine,
After the Tuscan mariners transformed,
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed
On Circe’s island fell (who knows not Circe,
The daughter of the sun? whose charmèd cup
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape
And downward fell, into a grovelling swine).
This nymph that gazed upon his682 clust’ring locks
With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son
Much like his father, but his mother more,
Whom therefore she brought up and Comus named,
Who ripe and frolic683 of 684 his full-grown age,
Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,
At last betakes him to this ominous 685 Wood
And, in thick shelter of black shade embow’red,
Excells his mother at her mighty art,
Off ’ring to every weary traveller
His orient686 liquor, in a crystal glass,
To quench the drought of Phoebus, which as they taste
(For most do taste, through fond,687 intemperate thirst),
Soon as the potion works, their human count’nance—
Th’ express resemblance of the gods—is changed
Into some brutish form of wolf or bear
Or ounce,688 or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were.
And they, so perfect is their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely689 than before
And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.
Therefore, when any favored of high Jove
Chances to pass through this advent’rous glade,
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star
I shoot from Heav’n, to give him safe convoy—
As now I do. But first I must put off
These my sky robes, spun out of Iris690 woof,
And take the weeds691 and likeness of a swain692
That to the service of this house belongs,
Who with his soft pipe693 and smooth-dittied song
Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,
And hush the waving woods, nor of less faith,
And in this office of his mountain watch
Likeliest and nearest to the present aid
Of this occasion.
But I hear the tread
Of hateful steps. I must be viewless, now.
Comus enters, with a charming694 rod in one hand, his glass
in the other. With him a rout 695 of monsters headed 696 like
sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and
women, their apparel glistening. They come in, making a
riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.
COMUS. The star that bids697 the shep
herd fold,698
Now the top of Heav’n doth hold,
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay699
In the steep Atlantic stream,
And the slope700 sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east.
Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity!
Braid your locks with rosy twine,701
Dropping 702 odors, dropping wine.
Rigor now is gone to bed,
And advice, with scrupulous head.
Strict age, and sour severity
With their grave saws703 in slumber lie.
We that are of purer fire
Imitate the starry choir
Who in their nightly watchful spheres
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds704 and seas, with all their finny drove,705
Now to the moon in wavering morris706 move,
Trip the pert707 fairies and the dapper 708 elves.
By dimpled709 brook and fountain brim
The wood nymphs, decked with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes710 and pastimes keep.
What has night to do with sleep?
Night has better sweets to prove:
Venus now wakes, and wakens love.
Come, let us our rites begin!
’Tis only daylight that makes sin—
Which these dun shades will ne’er report.
Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,
Dark-veil’d Cotytto,711 t’whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns! Mysterious dame
That ne’er art called but712 when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom
And makes one blot of all the air!
Stay thy cloudy ebon713 chair,
Wherein thou rid’st with Hecat,714 and befriend
Us, thy vowèd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing715 eastern scout,716
The nice 717 morn on th’ Indian steep
From her cabined loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale sun descry718
Our conceal’d solemnity.
Come, knit hands and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round!
The measure.719
Break off, break off! I feel the different pace
Of some chaste footing near about this ground.
Run to your shrouds,720 within these brakes721 and trees:
Our number may affright. Some virgin, sure
(For so I can distinguish, by mine art),
Benighted722 in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains.723 I shall ere long
Be well-stocked with as fair a herd as grazed
About my mother, Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazzling spells into the spongey724 air,
Of power to cheat the eye with blear 725 illusion
And give it false presentments,726 lest the place
And my quaint 727 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-placed words of glozing 728 courtesy,
Baited with reasons not implausible,
Wind me into the easy-hearted man,
And hug him into snares. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
I shall appear some harmless villager
Whom thrift 729 keeps up about 730 his country gear.
But here she comes. I fairly731 step aside
And hearken, if I may, her business here.
The lady enters.
LADY. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true:
My best guide, now. Methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-managed merriment,
Such as the jocund732 flute or gamesome 733 pipe
Stirs up amongst the loose, unlettered hinds,734
When for their teeming flocks and granges full
In wanton735 dance they praise the bounteous Pan
And thank the gods amiss.736 I should be loath
To meet the rudeness 737 and swill’d insolence
Of such late wassailers.738 Yet where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind maze of this tangled Wood?
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favor of these pines,
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket side,
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind, hospitable woods provide.
They left me then, when the gray-hooded ev’n
Like a sad votarist 739 in palmer’s 740 weeds 741
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus’ wain.742
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labor of my thoughts. ’Tis likeliest
They had engaged their wand’ring steps too far,
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had stol’n them from me—else, O thievish night!
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars
That Nature hung in Heav’n, and filled their lamps
With everlasting oil, to give due light
To the misled and lonely traveller?
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
Whence ev’n now the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife 743 and perfect 744 in my list’ning ear.
Yet nought but single 745 darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,
Of calling shapes and beck’ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men’s names
On sands and shores, and desert wildernesses.
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding 746 champion, conscience—
O welcome, pure-eyed faith, white-handed hope,
Thou flittering Angel girt with golden wings!
And thou, unblemished form of chastity,
see ye visibly, and now believe
That He, the supreme good, t’ whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glist’ring 747 guardian, if need were,
To keep my life and honor unassailed.
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err: there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
I cannot halloo to my brothers, but
Such noise as I can make, to be heard farthest,
I’ll venture, for my new-enlivened spirits
Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off.
SONG
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv’st unseen
Within thy airy cell
By slow Maeander’s 748 margent green,
And in the violet-embroidered vale
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well,
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus 749 are?
O if thou have
Hid them in some flow’ry cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet queen of parley,750 daughter of the sphere,
So may
’st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heav’n’s harmonies.
COMUS. Can any mortal mixture of earth’s mould
Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?
Sure, something holy lodges in that breast
And with these raptures moves the vocal 751 air
To testify his hidden residence!
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall 752 smoothing the raven down753
Of darkness, till she smiled. I have oft heard
My mother, Circe, with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow’ry-kirtled Naiades,754
Culling their potent 755 herbs and baleful drugs,
Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul
And lap it in Elysium. Scylla 756 wept
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis 757 murmured soft applause!
Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,
And in sweet madness robbed it of itself.
But such a sacred and home-felt 758 delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now. I’ll speak to her
And she shall be my queen.
Hail, foreign wonder!
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed—
Unless the goddess that in rural shrine
Dwell’st here with Pan 759 or Silvan,760 by blest song
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog
To touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood!
LADY. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise
That is addressed to unattending ears.
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift761
How to regain my severed company
Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.
COMUS. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?
LADY. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.
COMUS. Could that divide you from near-ushering 762
guides?
LADY. They left me, weary, on a grassy turf.
COMUS. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
LADY. To seek i’ th’ valley some cool friendly spring.
COMUS. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?
LADY. They were but twain, and purposed quick return.