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Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard

Lady. Gentle villager, My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,

What readiest way would bring me to that place ? Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades,

Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, Lady. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose, Who as they sung, would take the prison’d soul, In such a scant allowance of star-light, And lap it in Elysium ; Scylla wept,

Would over-task the best land-pilot's art, And chid her barking waves into attention, Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause :

Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green, Yet they in pleasing slumber lull’d the sense, Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood, And in sweet madness robb’d it of itself,

And every bosky bourn from side to side, But such a sacred and home-felt delight,

My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; Such sober certainty of waking bliss,

And if your stray attendants be yet lodged,
I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
And she shall be my queen. Hail, foreign wonder! Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, From her thatch'd pallet rouse ; if otherwise,
Unless the goddess that in rural shrine

I can conduct you, lady, to a low
Dwell'st here with Pan, or Sylvan, by blest song But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog

Till further quest.
To touch the prosp?rous growth of this tall wood. Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word,

Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,
That is address'd to unattending ears ;

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift

With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls, How to regain my sever'd company,

And courts of princes, where it first was named, Compelld me to awake the courteous Echo And yet is most pretended : in a place To give me answer from her mossy

couch.

Less warranted than this, or less secure, Comus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.

Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth. To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on. Comus. Could that divide you from near-usher

ing guides? Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?

CHASTITY. Lady. To seek i’ th' valley some cool friendly

spring. Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded,

My sister is not so defenceless left lady?

As you imagine ; she has a hidden strength Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick Which you remember not.

you thus?

FROM THE SAME.

return.

Comus. Perhaps forestalling Night prevented 'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity : them.

She that has that is clad in complete steel, Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! And like a quiver'd nymph, with arrows keen, Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, need ?

Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds, Lady. No less than if I should my brothers Where through the sacred rays of Chastity, lose,

No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer, Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful Will dare to soil her virgin purity : bloom?

Yea there, where very desolation dwells, Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips.

By grots, and caverns shagg’d with horrid shades, Comus. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd

She may pass on with unblench'd majesty, In his loose traces from the furrow came, [ox Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. And the swinkt hedger at his supper sat ;

Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
I saw them under a green mantling vine

In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots.

That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,
Their port was more than human as they stood ; No goblin or swart fairy of the mine,
I took it for a faëry vision

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. Of some gay creatures of the element,

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call That in the colours of the rainbow live,

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece, And play i’ th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck, To testify the arms of Chastity? And as I pass’d, I worshippd ; if those you seek, Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, It were a journey like the path to heaven,

Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste, To help you find them.

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness

THE DANCES ENDED, THE SPIRIT EPILOGUIZES.

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’

Woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal'd stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dashd brute violence
With sudden adoration, and blank awe ?
So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lacquey 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 heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal.

SONG,

SABRINA fair,

Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ;

Listen, for dear Ilonour's sake,
Goddess of the Silver lake,

Listen and save;
Listen and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus ;
By th' earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys' grave majestic pace ;
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard's hook ;
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell ;
By Leucothca's lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands;
By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet ;
By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,
And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft alluring locks ;
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams, with wily glance ;
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answer'd have.

Listen and save.

Spirit. To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie Where Day never shuts his eye,

in the broad fields of the sky : There I suck the liquid air, All amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus and his daughters three, That sing about the golden tree : Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring ; The Graces, and the rosy-bosom’d Hours, Thither all their bounties bring ; That there eternal Summer dwells, And west-winds with musky wing About the cedar'd alleys fling Nard and cassia's balmy smells. Iris there with humid bow Waters the odorous banks, that blow Flowers of more mingled hue Than her purfled scarf can shew, And drenches with Elysian dew (List, mortals, if your ears be true) Beds of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits th’ Assyrian queen; But far above, in spangled sheen, Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced, Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranced, After her wand'ring labours long, Till free consent the gods among Make her his eternal bride, And from her fair unspotted side Two blissful twins are to be born, Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn.

But now my task is smoothly done,
I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earth's end,
Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend,
And from thence can soar as soon
To the corners of the moon.

Mortals that would follow me,
Love Virtue, she alone is free :
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime ;
Or if Virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.

SPEECH OF THE GENIUS OF THE WOOD, IN

** THE ARCADES."

Stay, gentle swains ; for though in this disguise
I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes ;
Of famous Arcaday ye are, and sprung
Of that renowned flood, so often sung,
Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluice
Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse ;

And ye, the breathing roses of the wood,
Fair silver buskin'd nymphs as great and good,
I know this quest of yours, and free intent,
Was all in honour and devotion meant
To the great mistress of yon princely shrine,
Whom, with low reverence, I adore as mine,
And with all helpful service will comply
To further this night's glad solemnity ;
And lead ye, where ye may more near behold
What shallow searching Fame hath left untold ;
Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone,
Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon :
For know, by lot from Jove I am the power
Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower,
To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove
With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
And all my plants I save from nightly ill
Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill:
And from the boughs brush off the evil dew,
And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue,
Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites,
Or hurtful worm with cankerd venom bites.

When Evening grey doth rise, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground,
And early, ere the odorous breath of Morn
Awakes the slumb'ring leaves, or tassel'd horn
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
Number my ranks, and visit ev'ry sprout
With puissant words, and murmurs made to

bless :
But else in deep of night, when drowsiness
Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I
To the celestial Sirens' harmony,
That sit upon the nine infolded spheres,
And sing to those that hold the vital shears,
And turn the adamantine spindle round,
On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie,
To lull the daughters of Necessity,
And keep unsteady Nature to her law,
And the low world in measured motion draw
After the heav'nly tune, which none can hear
Of human mould with gross unpurged ear.

ANDREW MARVELL.

(Born, 1620. Died, 1678.)

A BETTER edition of Marvell's works than any ment of danger, by throwing his cane ashore, and that has been given, is due to his literary and pa- crying out, “Ho for heavent!” A storm came triotic character. He was the champion of Milton's on, and the whole company perished. living reputation, and the victorious supporter In consequence of this catastrophe the gentleof free principles against Bishop Parker, when man whose daughter was to have been married, that venal apostate to bigotry promulgated, in his adopted young Marvell as his son, conceiving his Ecclesiastical Polity, " that it was more neces father to have sacrificed his life in performing an sary to set a severe government over men's con act of friendship. Marvell's education was thus sciences and religious persuasions, than over their enlarged : he travelled for his improvement over vices and immoralities.” The humour and elo a considerable part of Europe, and was for some quence of Marvell’s prose tracts were admired time at Constantinople as secretary to the Engand probably imitated by Swift*. In playful ex lish embassy at that court. Of his residence and uberance of figure he sometimes resembles Burke. employments for several years there is no account, For consistency of principles, it is not so easy to till in 1653 he was engaged by the Protector to find his parallel. His few poetical pieces betray superintend the education of a Mr. Dutton, at some adherence to the school of conceit, but there Eton ; and for a year and a half before Milton's is much in it that comes from the heart warm, death, he was assistant to Milton in the office of pure, and affectionate.

Latin Secretary to the Protector. He sat in the He was a native of Hull. At the age of fifteen Parliament of 1660 as one of the representatives he was seduced from Cambridge by the proselyt- of the city of Hull, and was re-elected as long as ising Jesuits, but was brought back from London he lived. At the beginning of the reign, indeed, by his father, returned to the university, and we find him absent for two years in Germany and continued for ever after an enemy to superstition Holland, and on his return, having sought leave and intrigue. In 1640 his father, who was a from his constituents, he accompanied Lord Carclergyman of Hull, embarked on the Humber in lisle as ambassador's secretary to the Northern company with a youthful pair whom he was to ! Courts ; but from the year 1665 till his death, marry at Barrow, in Lincolnshire. Though the his attendance in the House of Commons was unweather was calm when they entered the boat,

+ The story is told differently in the Biographia the old gentleman expressed a whimsical presenti Britannica ; but the circumstance related there, of a

beautiful boy appearing to the mother of the drowned (* We still read Marvell's answer to Parker with plea lady, and disappearing with the mystery of a supernasure, though the book it answers be sunk long ago.

tural being, gives an air of incredibility to the other Swifi's Apology for A Tale of a Tub.]

account.

interrupted, and exhibits a zeal in parliamentary not imagine a man of such complacency to possess duty that was never surpassed. Constantly cor inflexible honesty ; he accordingly, as it is said, responding with his constituents, he was at once sent his lord-treasurer, Danby, to him next day, earnest for their public rights and for their local who, after mounting several dark staircases, interests. After the most fatiguing attendances, found the author in a very mean lodging, and it was his practice to send them a minute state proffered him a mark of his majesty's considerament of public proceedings, before he took either tion. Marvell assured the lord-treasurer that he sleep or refreshment. Though he rarely spoke, was not in want of the king's assistance, and his influence in both houses was so considerable, humorously illustrated his independence by callthat when Prince Rupert (who often consulted ing his servant to witness that he had dined for him) voted on the popular side, it used to be said three days successively on a shoulder of mutton; that the prince had been with his tutor. He was and having given a dignified and rational explaone of the last members who received the legiti-nation of his motives to the minister, went to a mate stipend for attendance, and his grateful friend and borrowed a guinea. The etory of his constituents would often send him a barrel of ale death having been occasioned by poisoning, it is as a token of their regard. The traits that are to be hoped, was but a party fable. It is certain, recorded of his public spirit and simple manners however, that he had been threatened with assasgive an air of probability to the popular story of sination. The corporation of Hull voted a sum his refusal of a court-bribe. Charles the Second for his funeral expenses, and for an appropriate having met with Marvell in a private company, monument. found his manners so agreeable, that he could

THE EMIGRANTS.

THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH

OF HER FAWY.

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride,
In th’ ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that row'd long,
The list’ning winds received this song.

“ What should we do, but sing His praise
That led us through the wat'ry maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own !

The wanton troopers riding by
Have shot my fawn, and it will die.
Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive
Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive
Them any harm ; alas ! nor could
Thy death to them do any good.
I'm sure I never wish'd them ill;
Nor do I for all this ; nor will :
But, if my simple prayers may yet
Prevail with heaven to forget
Thy murder, I will join my tears,
Rather than fail. But, O my fears !
It cannot die so. Heaven's king
Keeps register of every thing,
And nothing may we use in vain :
Ev'n beasts must be with justice slain.

“ Where he the huge sea-monsters racks,
That lift the deep upon their backs ;
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms and prelates' rage.

“ He gave us this eternal spring
Which here enamels every thing,
And sends the fowls to us in care,
On daily visits through the air.

“ He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night,

And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound his name.

“Oh ! let our voice His praise exalt
Till it arrive at heaven's vault,
Which then perhaps rebounding may
Echo beyond the Mexique bay."

Inconstant Sylvio, when yet
I had not found him counterfeit,
One morning (I remember well),
Tied in this silver chain and bell,
Gave it to me : nay, and I know
What he said then : I'm sure I do.
Said he, “ Look how your huntsman here
Hath taught a Fawn to hunt his Deer.”
But Sylvio soon had me beguiled.
This waxed tame while he grew wild,
And, quite regardless of my smart,
Left me his Fawn, but took his heart.
Thenceforth I set myself to play
My solitary time away
With this, and very well content
Could so my idle life have spent ;
For it was full of sport, and light
Of foot, and heart ; and did invite

Thus sung they in the English boat,
A holy and a cheerful note ;
And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.

267

And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.

YOUNG LOVE.

COME, little infant, love me now,

While thine unsuspected years Clear thine aged father's brow

From cold jealousy and fears. Pretty, surely, 'twere to see

By young Love old Time beguiled ; While our sportings are as free

As the nurse's with the child.

Me to its game; it seem'd to bless Itself in me. How could I less Than love it? Oh, I cannot be Unkind t'a beast that loveth me. Had it lived long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvio did ; his gifts might be Perhaps as false, or more, than he. But I am sure, for aught that I Could in so short a time espy, Thy love was far more better than The love of false and cruel man. With sweetest milk and sugar first I it at my own fingers nursed ; And as it grew, so every day It wax'd more white and sweet than they : It had so sweet a breath. And oft I blush'd to see its foot more soft And white, shall I say than my hand ? Nay, any lady's of the land. It is a wondrous thing how fleet 'Twas on those little silver feet ; With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the race ; And when't had left me far away, 'Twould stay, and run again, and stay ; For it was nimbler much than hinds, And trod as if on the four winds. I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness, And all the spring time of the year It only loved to be there. Among the beds of lilies I Have sought it oft where it should lie, Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes ; For in the flaxen lilies' shade It like a bank of lilies laid ; Upon the roses it would feed Until its lips e'en seem'd to bleed ; And then to me 'twould boidly trip, And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill,

Common beauties stay fifteen;

Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair blossoms are too green

Yet for lust, but not for love.
Love as much the snowy lamb,

Or the wanton kid, does prize,
As the lusty bull or ram,

For his morning sacrifice.
Now then love me : Time may take

Thee before thy time away ;
Of this need we'll virtue make,

And learn love before we may. So we win of doubtful fate;

And if good to us she meant, We that good shall antedate ;

Or, if ill, that ill prevent. Thus do kingdoms, frustrating

Other titles to their crown, In the cradle crown their king,

So all foreign claims to drown. So to make all rivals vain,

Now I crown thee with my love ; Crown me with thy love again,

And we both shall monarchs prove.

THOMAS STANLEY.

(Born, 1625, Died, 1678.]

Thomas Stanley, the learned editor of Æschy- | from Anacreon, Bion and Moschus, and the lus, and author of the History of Philosophy. He “Kisses” of Secundus.

He also translated from made poetical versions of considerable neatness Tristan, Marino, Boscan, and Gongora.

CELIA SINGING.

Roses in breathing forth their scent,
Or stars their borrow' ornament:
Nymphs in their wat’ry sphere that move,
Or angels in their orbs above ;
The winged chariot of the light,

Or the slow silent wheels of night ;
The shade which from the swifter sun
Doth in a swifter motion run,
Or souls that their eternal est do keep,
Make far less noise than Celia's breath in sleep.

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