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The LADY enters.
This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy aery shell,
By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroider'd vale,
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ;
That likest thy Narcissus are ?
O, if thou have
Tell me but where,
So may'st thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all Heaven's har
Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's
mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence. How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven-down Of darkness, till it smild! I have oft heard My mother Circe with the Syrens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs and baleful 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 madness robb'd it of itself ; But such a sacred and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking bliss, I never heard till now.--I'll speak to her,
And she shall be my queen.- Hail, foreign won.
der ! 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. Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that
praise That is address'd to unattending ears.
There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn
stream, Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ; Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father Brute. She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That staid her flight with his cross-flowing course. The water-nymphs, that in the bottom play'd, Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall ; Who, piteous of her woes, rear’d her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectar'd lavers, strewed with asphodel ; And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she reviv'd, And underwent a quick immortal change, Made goddess of the river : still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Listen where thou art sitting
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
Listen for dear honour's sake,
Listen, and save.
Listen, and appear to us,
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
Listen, and save.
EXTRACT FROM LYCIDAS. YEt once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude : And, with forc'd fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year : Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier