COMUS
��Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely
lore,
Are coming to attend their father's state, And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way Lies through the perplexed paths of this
drear wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passen- ger;
And here their tender age might suffer
peril, 4 o
But that, by quick command from sovran
Jove, I was despatched for their defence and
guard !
And listen why ; for I will tell you now What never yet was heard in tale or song, From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. Bacchus, that first from out the purple
��grape 3d th
��Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, After the Tuscan mariners transformed, Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds
listed,
On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not
Circe, 50
The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed
cup
"Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling
swine ?)
This Nymph, that gazed upon his cluster- ing locks, With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe
youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son Much like his father, but his mother more, Whom therefore she brought up, and
Comus named:
Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grown age, Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 60 At last betakes him to this ominous wood, And, in thick shelter of black shades im-
bowered,
Excels his mother at her mighty art; Offering to every weary traveller His orient liquor in a crystal glass, To quench the drouth of Phoebus; which
as they taste
(For most do taste through fond intemper- ate thirst), Soon as the potion works, their human
count'nance,
The express resemblance of the gods, is changed
��Into some brutish form of wolf or bear, 70 Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, All other parts remaining as they were. And they, so perfect is their misery, Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than
before,
And all their friends and native home for- get,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove Chances to pass through this adventrous
glade,
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star So I shoot from heaven, to give him safe con- voy,
As now I do. But first I must put off These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris' woof, And take the weeds and likeness of a
swain
That to the service of this house belongs, Who, with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied
song, Well knows to still the wild winds when
they roar, And hush the waving woods; nor of less
faith,
And in this office of his mountain watch Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 90 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now.
COMUS enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the other ; with him a rout of Mon- sters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering. They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.
Comus. The star that bids the shepherd
fold
Now the top of heaven doth hold; And the gilded car of Day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream: And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing toward the other goal 100
Of his chamber in the east. Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast, Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity. Braid your locks with rosy twine, Dropping odours, dropping wine. Rigour now is gone to bed; And Advice with scrupulous head,
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