Page:MU KPB 018 Comus by John Miltow - Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.pdf/82

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26
COMUS
Amid’st the flowry-kirtl’d Naiades,
Culling their Potent hearbs and balefull drugs;
Who, as they sung, would take the prison’d soul
And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur’d soft applause.
Yet they in pleasing slumber lull’d the sense
And in sweet madnes rob’d it of it self;
But such a sacred and home-felt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now. Ile speak to her,
And she shall be my Queen.—Hail, forren wonder,
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed!
Unlesse the Goddes that in rurall shrine
Dwell’st here with Pan or Silvan, 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 addrest to unattending Ears.
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever’d company,
Compell’d me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossie Couch.