And hug him into snares. When once her eye And hearken, if I may her business hear. The LADY enters 170 Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now. Methought it was the sound Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 180 They left me then, when the grey-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 190 Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, 200 205 These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210 Oh, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, I see ye visibly, and now believe That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill· 215 Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, 220 To keep my life and honour unassailed.... Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud (Turn forth her silver lining on the night? I did not err: there does a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 225 And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.) I can not hallo to my brothers, but Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest Song 230 Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen atmosphere Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale Where the love-lorn nightingale 235 Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 240 That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where tim Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere! And give resounding grace to all Heaven's har monies. Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, And chid her barking waves into attention, I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, 245 250 255 260 And she shall be my queen.-Hail, foreign wonder! 265 Whom, certain, these rough shades did never breed, Unless the goddess that in rural shrine Dwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 270 Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd ill is lost that praise That is addressed to unattending ears. Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 280 285 290 Comus. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft Lady. Dim darkness, and this leavy labyrinth. ushering guides? going immediately before Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit! Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips. |