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14
COMUS
Wherin thou rid’st with Hecat’, and befriend
Us thy vow’d Priests, til utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out;
Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,
The nice Morn on th’ Indian steep,
From her cabin’d loop hole peep,
And to the tel-tale Sun discry
Our conceal’d Solemnity.
Com, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastick round.
Us thy vow’d Priests, til utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out;
Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,
The nice Morn on th’ Indian steep,
From her cabin’d loop hole peep,
And to the tel-tale Sun discry
Our conceal’d Solemnity.
Com, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastick round.
