The firft Scene discovers a wild Wood.
The attendant Spirit defcends or enters.
Efore the ftarry threshold of Jove's Court, My manfion is, where thofe immortal
Of bright aereal Spirits live infphear'd
In regions mild of calm and ferene Air,
Above the fmoak and stir of this dim spot,
Which Men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here, Strive to keep up a frail and feverish Being, Unmindful of the Crown that Virtue gives,
'After this mortal change, to her true Servants Amongst th' enthroned Gods on fainted feats. Yet fome there be, that by due fteps aspire To lay their juft hands on that Golden Key, That opes the Palace of Eternity :
To fuch my errand is; and but for fuch; I would not foil these pure Ambrofial Weeds With the rank Vapours of this Sin-worn Mould. But to my task. Neptune, befides the fway Of ev'ry falt Flood, and each ebbing Stream, Took in by lot 'twixt high and neather Fove, Imperial rule of all the Sea girt Ifles, That like to rich and various Gems inlay The unadorned bofom of the Deep, Which he, to grace his tributary Gods,
By courfe commits to feveral Governments,
And gives them leave to wear their Saphire Crowns, And wield their little Tridents; but this Ifle,
The greateft and the best of all the Main,
He quarters to his blue-hair'd Deities; And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun A nobler Peer of mickle truft and power Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide An old, and haughty Nation, proud in Arms: Where his fair offspring, nurs'd in princely lore, Are coming to attend their Father's ftate, And new-entrufted Scepter, but their way Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear Wood, The nodding horror of whofe fhady brows Threats the forlorn and wand'ring Passenger ; And here their tender age might fuffer peril,
But that by quick command from Sovereign Feve I was dispatcht for their defence and guard : And liften why; for I will tell ye now What never yet was heard in Tale or Song, From old or modern Bard, in Hall or Bow'r. Bacchus, that first from out the purple Grape Crusht the sweet poison of mis-ufed Wine, After the Tufcan Mariners transform'd, Coafting the Tyrrbene fhore, as the winds lifted, On Circe's Hand fell; (Who knows not Circe, The Daughter of the Sun; whofe charmed Cup Whoever tafted, loft his upright shape, And downward fell into a groveling Swine?) This Nymph, that gaz'd upon his clustring locks, With Ivy-Berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth, Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son Much like his Father, but his Mother more, Whom therefore he brought up, and Comus nam'd Who ripe, and frolick of his full grown age, Roving the Celtick and Iberian fields,
At laft betakes him to this ominous Wood, And in thick shelter of black fhades imbowr'd, Excels his Mother at her mighty Art,
Off'ring to every weary Traveller His orient Liquor in a Crystal Glass,
To quench the drouth of Phœbus, which as they (For most do tafte through fond intemperate thirst) Soon as the Portion works, their human count'nance, Th' exprefs refemblance of the Gods, is chang'd Into fome brutish form of Wolf, or Bear, Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat,
All other parts remaining as they were ; And they, fo perfect is their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than before, And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a fenfual stie. Therefore, when any favour'd of high Jove, Chances to pass through this advent❜rous glade, Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star
I shoot from Heav'n, to give him fafe convoy; As now I do: But first I must put off
These my skie robes fpun out of Iris' Wooff, And take the weeds and likeness of a Swain, That to the Service of this house belongs,
Who with his foft Pipe, and smooth dittied Song, Well knows to ftill 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 Of this occafion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now.
Comus enters with a Charming-Rod in one hand, bis Glafs in the other; with him a rout of Monfters beaded like fundry forts of wild Beafts, but otherwife like Men and Women, their Apparel gliftering; they come in making a riotous. and unruly noife, with Torches in their bands.
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 fteep Atlantic stream,
And the flope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky Pole, Pacing toward the other goal
Of his Chamber in the Eaft. Mean while welcome Joy, and Feaft, Midnight shout, and revelry,
Tipfie dance, and Jollity:
Braid your Locks with rofie Twine, Dropping Odours, dropping Wine. Rigour now is gone to bed,
And Advice with fcrupulous head, Strict Age, and four Severity,
With their grave Saws in flumber lie. We, that are of purer fire, Imitate the Starry Choir,
Who in their nightly watchful Sphears,
Lead in fwift round the Months and Years.
The Sounds and Seas, with all their finny drove, Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move, And on the tawny Sands and Shelves, Trip the pert Fairies, and the dapper Elves; By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim, The Wood-Nymphs, deckt with Daifies trim, Their merry wakes and pastimes keep; What hath Night to do with fleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove; Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. Come, let us our rites begin; 'Tis only day-light that makes Sin,
« ПредишнаНапред » |