To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. I fhoot from Heav'n, to give him fafe convoy, These my sky robes fpun out of Iris woof, 80 85 Who with his foft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, 90 Comus enters with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like fundry forts of wild beafts, but otherwife like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noife, with torches in their hands. Com. The ftar that bids the fhepherd fold, Now the top of Heav'n doth hold, Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing toward the other goal 100 Of his chamber in the east. Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast, Braid your locks with rofy twine, And Advice with fcrupulous head, Imitate the starry quire, Who in their nightly watchful spheres, years. Now to the moon in wavering morrice move; And on the tawny fands and shelves Trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves. 120 Night hath better sweets to prove, Come let us our rites begin, 'Tis only day-light that makes fin, 125 Which these dun fhades will ne'er report. Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t'whom the secret flame Of mid-night torches burns; myfterious dame, 130 Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, Wherein thou rid'ft with Hecat', and befriend 135 Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, The nice morn on th’Indian steep From her cabin'd loophole peep, 140 And to the tell-tale fun descry Our conceal'd folemnity. Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round. The Measure. Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 145 Of some chafte footing near about this ground. (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150 Be well-flock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd My My dazling spells into the spungy air, Of pow'r to cheat the eye with blear illufion, Wind me into the eafy-hearted man, And hug him into fnares. When once her eye Hath met the virtue of this magic duft, I fhall appear fome harmless villager, Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. And hearken, if I may, her business here. The Lady enters. This way the noife was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now; methought it was the found Of riot and ill manag'd merriment, Such as the jocond flute, or gamesome pipe 155 160 165 170 When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175 180 In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, 185 Rofe from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 190 To the misled and lonely traveller? 200 This is the place, as well as I may guess, Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Was rife, and perfect in my lift'ning ear, Yet nought but single darkness do I find. What might this be? A thousand fantasies 205 Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beck'ning fhadows dire, On |