La. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.

281

Com. Could that divide you from near-ushering
La. They left me weary on a grassy turf. [guides?
Com. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
La. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly spring.
Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?
La. They were but twain, and purposed quick re-

turn.

286

Com. Perhaps forestalling Night prevented them.
La. How easy my misfortune is to hit!
Com. Imports their loss, beside the present need?
La. No less than if I should my brothers lose.
Com. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
La. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 290
Com. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox
In his loose traces from the furrow came,
And the swinkt 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 faëry vision

295

300

Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rain-bow live,
And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck,
And as I pass'd, I worshipp'd; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heav'n,
To help you find them.

Gentle Villager,

La. What readiest way would bring me to that place? Com. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 306 La. 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.

Com. 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-attendants be yet lodged, Or shroud within these limits, I shall know Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark

310

315

301. Plighted, instead of plaited, to avoid its jarring with play.

From her thatch'd pallat rouse; if otherwise,
I can conduct you, Lady, to a low
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Till further quest.

La.

Shepherd, I take thy word, And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds

With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls,

220

And courts of princes, where it first was named, 325 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 proportion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on. 330

The Two Brothers.

E. Bro. Unmuffle, ye faint Stars, and thou fair. That wont'st to love the traveller's benizon, 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 damm'd up With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole Of some clay habitation, visit us

[Moon,

335

With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,

340

Or if our eyes

Or Tyrian Cynosure.

Y. Bro.

Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes,
Or sound of pastoral reeds with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery dames,
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.
But

345

350

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 some broad elm Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears of Arcad &c the greater and lesser

What if in wild amazement and affright?
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger or of savage heat?

356

E. Bro. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:

360

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,
How bitter is such self-delusion?

I do not think my Sister so to seek,

365

Or so unprincipled in Virtue's book,

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,

As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)

370

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
And put them into misbecoming plight.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 375

Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,

Where with her best nurse, Contemplation,

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day:
But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun:
Himself is his own dungeon.

Y. Bro.
That musing meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

380

'Tis most true,

385

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,

And sits as safe as in a senate house;

For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,

390

His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,

Or do his grey hairs any violence?
But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree

Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch, with unenchanted eye,
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.

305

T

You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps

Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
Danger will wink on Opportunity,
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned Sister.

400

405

E. Bro.

I do not, Brother,

Infer, as if I thought my Sister's state
Secure without all doubt, or controversy:

Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear

410

Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is

That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint Suspicion.
My Sister is not so defenceless left

As you imagine; she has hidden strength,
Which you remember not.

Y. Bro.

What hidden strength,

415

420

Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?
E. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,
Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own:
'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity:
She that has that is clad in cómplete steel,
And like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds,
Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity,
No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer,

425

Will dare to soil her virgin purity:

Yea there, where very Desolation dwells

By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades,

She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,

430

Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.

Some say no evil thing that walks by night,

In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magic chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,

435

432. This passage is in very close imitation of one in Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess.'

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of Chastity?

440

445

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid: Gods and men
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th'
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield [woods.
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal'd stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,

450

And noble grace that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration, and blank awe?
So dear to Heav'n is saintly Chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and solemn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,

455

460

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,

Till all be made immortal: but when Lust,

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,

465

Lets in Defilement to the inward parts,

The soul grows clotted by contagion,

Imbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being.

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 470 Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres,

462. The same strong appearance of complete materialism in sentiment, is discoverable in this passage as in several parts of Paradise Lost-It, however, admits of the same partial explanation, as it may be taken to refer solely to that perfect change which shal! be produced in the body when it puts on immortality, and which I imagine wili not be a mere renovation of youth or beauty, but a change in the corporeal essence, if I may so speak, of our earthly frames. For at present it is their nature to decay, hereafter it will be their nature to exist unchanged. It is nothing but their essence becoming different, can effect this.