Page:MU KPB 018 Comus by John Miltow - Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.pdf/122

Had ta’n their supper on the savoury Herb
Of Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I sate me down to watch upon a bank
With Ivy canopied, and interwove
With flaunting Hony-suckle; and began,
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
To meditate my rural minstrelsie
Till fancy had her fill. But, ere a close,
The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,
And fill’d the Air with barbarous dissonance;
At which I ceas’t, and listen’d them a while,
Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence
Gave respit to the drowsie frighted steeds
That draw the litter of close-curtain’d sleep.
At last a soft and solemn breathing sound
Rose like a steam of rich distill’d Perfumes,
And stole upon the Air, that even Silence
Was took e’re she was ware, and wish’t she might
Deny her nature, and be never more,
Still to be so displac’t. I was all eare,
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 honour’d Lady, your dear sister.
Amaz’d I stood, harrow’d with grief and fear;