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COMUS
11
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, welcom Joy and Feast,
Midnight shout, and revelry,
Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
Braid your Locks with rosie Twine,
Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
Rigor now is gon to bed;
And Advice with scrupulous head,
Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
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, welcom Joy and Feast,
Midnight shout, and revelry,
Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
Braid your Locks with rosie Twine,
Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
Rigor now is gon to bed;
And Advice with scrupulous head,
Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
