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,

125

'Tis only day-light that makes sin,

Which these dun shades will ne'er report.
Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport,

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 womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air,
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

130

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend

135

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 the Indian steep

From her cabin'd loop-hole peep,

And to the tell-tale Sun descry

Our conceal'd solemnity.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground

In a light fantastic round.

The Measure.

140

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace

145

Of some chaste footing near about this ground.

Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees; Our number may affright: some virgin sure

(For so I can distinguish by mine art)

Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150 And to my wily trains; I shall ere long

Be well stock'd with as fair a herd as grazed

About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl

My dazzling spells into the spungy air,

Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,

-155

And give it false presentments. lest the place
And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
And put the damsel to suspicious flight,

Which must not be, for that 's against my course;

I under fair pretence of friendly ends,

129. Cotytto; the goddess of licentious pleasures. 41. Tell-tale; discovering the secrets of the night.

160

And well-placed words of glozing courtesy
Baited with reasons not unplausible,
Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

And hug him into snares. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,

I shall appear some harmless villager
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here she comes, I fairly step aside,
And hearken, if I may, her business here.

The Lady enters.

This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-managed merriment,

Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,

165

170

When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,

And thank the Gods amiss. I should be loath

To meet the rudeness and swill'd insolence
Of such late wassailers; yet O where else

Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,
Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side

180

185

To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.

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
But where they are, and why they came not back,

Is now the labour of my thought; 'tis likeliest
They had engaged their wand'ring steps too far,
And envious Darkness, ere they could return,
Had stole them from me: else, O thievish Night, 190
Why should'st thou, but for some felonious end,

In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars,
That Nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their lamps
With everlasting oil, to give due light

181. Originally,

In the blind alleys of this arched wood.

To the misled and lonely traveller?
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
Whence even now the tumult of loud Mirth
Was rife, and perfect in my list'ning ear,
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,

Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And aery tongues, that syllable men's names

On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.

200

205

These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience.-

O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,
And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity;

I see ye visibly, and now believe

215

That he, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,

Would send a glist'ring guardian if need were

To keep my life and honour unassail'd.

220

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,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.

225

I cannot hallow to my brothers, but

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest

I'll venture, for my new enliven'd spirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

SONG.

SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen 230 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;

Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair

That likest thy Narcissus are?

235

208. This beautiful expression was not at first written. The line was, That lure night-wanderers,

226. This is a very ingenious invention to introduce the beauti ful song which follows."

O if thou have

Hid them in some flow'ry cave,

Tell me but where,

240

Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere; So may'st thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all Heav'n's harmonies.

Com. 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:

245

How sweetly did they float upon the wings

Of silence, through the empty-vaulted Night,

250

At ev'ry fall smoothing the raven down

Of Darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard

My mother Circe with the Sirens three,

Amidst the flow'ry-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 peaceful 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,

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 prosp'rous growth of this tall wood. 270

La. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise

That is address'd to unattending ears;

Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift

How to regain my sever'd company,

Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

275

Com. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?

254. This and the following verse were added by Milton to the original copy, and inserted in the margin.