Four Poems | Page 7

not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O, if thou have?Hid them in some flowery cave,
Tell me but where,?Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!?So may'st thou be translated to the skies,?And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies!
COMUS. Can any mortal mixture of earthUs 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 smiled! I have oft heard?My mother Circe with the Sirens three,?Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,?Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,?Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,?And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,?And chid her barking waves into attention,?And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.?Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,?And in sweet madness robbed 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.QHail, foreign wonder!?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 addressed to unattending ears.?Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift?How to regain my severed company,?Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo?To give me answer from her mossy couch.
COMUS: What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus? LADY. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth.?COMUS. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides? LADY. They left me weary on a grassy turf.?COMUS. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why??LADY. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. COMUS. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady? LADY. They were but twain, and purposed quick return. COMUS. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.?LADY. How easy my misfortune is to hit!?COMUS. Imports their loss, beside the present need? LADY. No less than if I should my brothers lose.?COMUS. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom? LADY. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips.?COMUS. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox?In his loose traces from the furrow came,?And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.?I saw them under a green mantling vine,?That crawls along the side of yon small hill,?Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;?Their port was more than human, as they stood.?I took it for a faery vision?Of some gay creatures of the element,?That in the colours of the rainbow live,?And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,?And, as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek,?It were a journey like the path to Heaven?To help you find them.
LADY. Gentle villager,?What readiest way would bring me to that place?
COMUS. Due west it rises from this shrubby point.?LADY. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,?In such a scant allowance of star-light,?Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,?Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.
COMUS. I know each lane, and every alley green,?Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,?And every bosky bourn from side to side,?My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;?And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,?Or shroud within these limits, I shall know?Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark?From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,?I can conduct you, Lady, to a low?But loyal cottage, where you may be safe?Till further quest.
LADY. Shepherd, I take thy word,?And trust thy honest-offered courtesy,?Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,?With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls?And courts of princes, where it first was named,?And yet is most pretended. In a place?Less warranted than this, or less secure,?I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.?Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial?To my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on.
The TWO BROTHERS.
ELD. BRO. Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair moon, That wont'st to love the traveller's benison,?Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,?And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here?In double night of darkness and of shades;?Or, if your influence be quite dammed up?With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,?Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole?Of some clay habitation, visit us?With thy long levelled rule of streaming light,?And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,?Or Tyrian Cynosure.
SEC. BRO. Or, if our eyes?Be barred that happiness, might we but hear?The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,?Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,?Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock?Count the night-watches to his feathery dames,?'T would be some solace yet, some little cheering,?In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.?But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!?Where may she wander now, whither betake her?From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,?Or 'gainst the rugged bark of