Coafting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds lifted, On Circe's iland fell: (Who knows not Circe 50 The daughter of the fun? whose charmed cup Whoever tafted, loft his upright shape,

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And downward fell into a groveling fwine)
This Nymph that gaz'd upon his cluftring locks,
With ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son
Much like his father, but his mother more,
Whom therefore fhe brought up, and Comus nam'd,
Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age,
Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,

At laft betakes him to this ominous wood,
And in thick fhelter of black fhades imbowr'd
Excels his mother at her mighty art,
Offering to every weary traveller
His orient liquor in a crystal glass,

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Toquench the drouth of Phœbus, which as they tafte,
(For most do taste through fond intemp'rate thirft)
Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the Gods, is chang'd
Into fome brutish form of wolf, or bear,
Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were;
And they, fo perfect is their misery,

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,

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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 pafs through this adventrous glade,
Swift as the fparkle of a glancing star

I shoot from Heav'n, to give him safe convoy,
As now I do: But first I must put off

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These my sky robes fpun out of Iris woof,
And take the weeds and likenefs of a fwain,
That to the fervice of this house belongs,
Who with his foft pipe, and smooth-dittied fong,
Well knows to ftill the wild winds when they roar,
And ush the waving woods, nor of less faith,
And in this office of his mountain watch,
Likelieft, and nearest to the present aid
Of this occafion. But I hear the tread
Of hateful steps, I must be viewless now.

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Comus enters with a charming rod in one hand, his glafs 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,

Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast,
Midnight Shout, and Revelry,

Tipsy Dance, and Jollity.

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Braid your locks with rofy twine,

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Dropping odors, dropping wine.

Rigor now is gone to bed,

And Advice with fcrupulous head,
Strict Age, and four Severity

With their grave faws in flumber lie.

Imitate the starry quire,

Who in their nightly watchful fpheres,

Lead in swift round the months and years.

The founds and feas, with all their finny drove, 115

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;

And on the tawny fands and shelves

Trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves.

By dimpled brook, and fountain brim,

The Wood-Nymphs deck'd with daisies trim, 120 Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:

What hath night to do with sleep?

Night hath better sweets to prove,

Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.

Come let us our rites begin,

'Tis only day-light that makes fin,

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Which these dun fhades will ne'er report.
Hail Goddess of nocturnal fport,

Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
Of midnight-torches burns; mysterious dame,
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon w
Of Stygian darkness fpits her thickeft gloom.
And makes one blot of all the air,
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid❜ft with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn on th' Indian steep
From her cabin'd loophole peep,

And to the tell-tale sun 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 Of some chaste footing near about this Run to your shrouds, within these brakes Our number may affright: Some virgi (For fo I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in thefe woods. Now to my And to my wily trains; I fhall ere lc Be well-ftock'd with as fair a herd as About my mother Circe. Thus I hu

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Nightly