The history of Comus runs thus: In 1634 John Egerton, Earl of Bridgewater, had been made "President of Wales." It was resolved that this event should be appropriately celebrated at his seat, Ludlow Castle, not far from Horton. Among the attractions was to be a "masque," or what we should style an "amateur musical entertainment," for which Milton's friend, tuneful Harry Lawes, was to compose the music, and he induced Milton to write the words. It so happened that not long before two young sons of the Earl, and their sister, the Lady Alice Egerton, had lost their way at night in the neighboring forest. This incident furnished the theme for the masque. The human characters were represented by the Lady Alice and her two brothers. The supra-human characters were the Attendant Spirit, represented by Harry Lawes, who did much of the singing; Comus, a magician, leader of a crew of half-human, half-bestial revellers, who were wont to hold nightly orgies in the forest, and Sabrina, the pure "Water Nymph of the Severn," whose aid had to be invoked to free the lady from the spell which had been thrown over her by Comus. The masque opens with a prologue, said or sung by the Attendant Spirit.

THE PROLOGUE TO COMUS.

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
Of bright aërial spirits live insphered

In regions mild of calm and serene air,

Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot

Which men call earth; and, with low-thoughted care,

Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true servants
Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on the golden key
That opes the palace of eternity.

To such my errand is, and, but for such,
I would not soil these pure, ambrosial weeds
With the rank vapors of this sin-worn world.

And so on, for nearly a hundred lines. Then, hearing the approach of Comus and his crew, the spirit vanishes. The crew have hardly begun their orgies, when their leader hears the sound of footsteps. He assumes the disguise of a homely shepherd. Presently the lady appears, and breaks out into song, in the hope that she may be heard by her brothers. Comus draws near, speaking first to himself and then to the lady.

COMUS AND THE LADY.

Comus. Can any earthly mixture of earth's mould
Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?
Sure something holy lodges in that heart,

And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence.

How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smiled. I'll speak to her,
And she shall be my queen. Hail, foreign wonder!
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed,
Dwell'st thou with Pan or Silvanus, by blest song
Forbidding every bleak, unkindly fog

To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood?
Lady.-Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise
That is addressed to unattending ears.

Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my severed company,
Compelled me to awake the courteous echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Comus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?

Lady.-Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. Comus. Could that divide you from near ushering guides?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf.

Comus. By falsehood or discourtesy, or why?

Lady. To seek i' th' valley some cool, friendly spring. Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady? Lady. They were but twain, and promised quick re

turn.

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit.

Comus.-Imports their loss besides the present's need? Lady.-No less than if I should my brothers lose. Comus.-Were they of manly prime or youthful bloom? Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips.

Comus tells the lady that he has not long before seen such a pair of youths, and can guide her to the place. If they are not there or thereabouts, he will take her to "a poor but loyal cottage,' where she can rest in safety until morning, when the search can be resumed.

The scene now shifts to another part of the forest; the two brothers are in search of their sister. To them enters the Attendant Spirit, who has assumed the form of Thyrsis, a trusted servitor of their father. He tells them that he has by chance learned that their sister has been entrapped by the vile wizard Comus; but he has come into possession of "a small, unsightly root," which is a sure protection against all enchantments; and gives them instructions what to do.

The scene again changes into an enchanted palace, whither the lady has been beguiled by Comus, where a magnificent banquet is set out. The lady has unwittingly seated herself in an enchanted chair, from which she cannot rise. Comus plies her with seductive blandishments, which she indignantly repels. The brothers rush in, sword in hand, and put Comus and his crew to flight. But they have forgotten one part of their instruction: the spell which held the lady fast bound in the chair is unbroken. The spirit, still wearing the guise of Thyrsis, now enters, and bethinks himself that there is yet one resource. This is to invoke the aid of Sabrina, the chaste Water Nymph of the Severn. She is invoked in song, and answers the summons. The last two scenes of the masque are mainly musical; and for them we may be sure that "tuneful Harry" composed his best music, and sang his part in his best manner.

THE SPIRIT OF SABRINA.

Spirit.

Goddess dear,

We implore thy powerful hand

To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distrest,

Through the force and through the wile
Of unblest enchanter vile.

Sabrina.-Shepherd, 'tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity.
Brightest lady, look on me :
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have kept of precious cure;
Thrice upon thy finger's tip,
Thrice upon thy ruby lip.

Next this marble venomed seat,

Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,
I touch with chaste palms, moist and cold.
Now the spell has lost his hold,

And I must haste, ere morning's hour,

To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

The Nymph vanishes, amidst a burst of music. Thyrsis conducts the lady and her brothers to their father's castle, where great rejoicings are going on. No one has dreamed of the perils through which the lady and her brothers have passed, for the whole action of the drama has taken place within the few hours after late nightfall and before early dawn. The Spirit now puts off the human shape of Thyrsis, and sings the Epilogue, which closes the masque.

EPILOGUE, BY THE ATTENDANT SPIRIT.
To the ocean now I fly,

And those happy climes that lie
Where Day never shuts his eye,
Up 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 crispèd shades and bowers
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;

The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours
Thither all their bounties bring;

There eternal Summer dwells,

And the west winds, with musky wing,
About the cedarn 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 show,