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And downward fell into a groveling fwine)
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,
75 And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. Therefore when any favor'd of high Jove Chances to pass through this adventrous glade, Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star
80 I shoot from Heav'n, to give him safe convoy, As now I do: But firft I must put
These my sky robes fpun out of Iris' woof,
Comus enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his
glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel gliftering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.
COM. The star that bids the shepherd fold,
105 Dropping odors, dropping wine.
Rigor now is gone to bed,
grave faws in slumber lie.
125 'Tis only day-light that makes sin, Which these dun shades will ne'er report. Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame,
130 That ne'er art call’d, but when the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness fpits her thickest gloom And makes one blot of all the air, Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
135 Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
The MEASURE. Break off, break off, I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground. Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees; Our number may affright: Some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in thefe woods. Now to my charms, 150 And to my wily trains; I fall ere long Be well-stock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd About
mother Circe. Thus I hurl My dazling spells into the spungy air, Of
power to cheat the eye with blear illusion
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
The LADY enters. This way
the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170 My best guide now; methought it was the found Of riot and ill-manag’d merriment, Such as the jocond fute, or gamesome pipe, Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the Gods amiss. I hould be loath To meet the rudeness and swill'd infolence Of such late wassailers; yet O where else Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
180 In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? My Brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favor of these pines, Stept, as they said, to the next thicket fide
185 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit As the kind hospitable woods provide. They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, Like a fad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain, 190 But where they are, and why they came not back, Is now the labor of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest