JOHN MILTON
Under the shady roof
Of branching Elm Star-proof,
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.
321 From 'Comus*
��THE Star that bids the Shepherd fold, Now the top of Heav'n doth hold, And the gilded Car of Day, His glowing Axle doth allay In the steep Atlantick stream, And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky Pole, Pacing toward the other gole Of his Chamber in the East. Mean while wclcom Joy, and Feast, Midnight shout, and revelry, Tipsie dance, and Jollity. Braid your Locks with roMe Twine Dropping odours, dropping Wine. Rigor now is gon to bed, And Advice with scrupulous head, Strict Age, and towre Severity, With their grave Saws in slumber ly. We that are of purer fire Imitate the Starry Quire,
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