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PROLOGUE.

OUR ftedfaft bard, to his own genius true,

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Still bad bis mufe, fit audience find, though few."
Scorning the judgment of a trifling age,
To choicer fpiris be bequeath'd his page.

He too was fcorn'd, and to Britannia's fhame,
She fearce for half an age knew Milton's name.
But now, his fame by ev'ry trumpet blown,
We on his deathless trophies raife our own.
Nor art nor nature did his genius bound,
Heav'n, hell, earth, chaos, he furvey'd around.
All things bis eye, through wit's bright empire thrown,
Beheld, and made what it beheld his own.

Such Milton was: 'Tis ours to bring him forth,

And yours to vindicate neglected worth.

Such heav'n-taught numbers should be more than read,
More wide the manna through the nation Spread.
Like fome blefs'd fpirit he to-night defcends,
Mankind he vifits, and their fteps befriends;
Through mazy error's dark perplexing wood,
Points out the path of true and real good;
Warns erring youth, and guards the spotless maid
From fpell of magic vice, by reafon's aid.

Attend the ftrains; and fhould fome meaner phrafe
Hang on the ftyle, and clog the nobler lays,
Excufe what we with trembling hand fupply,
To give his beauties to the public eye;
His the pure effence, ours the groffer mean,
Through which his spirit is in action feen.
Obferve the force, obferve the flame divine,
That glows, breathes, acts, in each harmonious line.
Great objects only ftrike the gen'rous heart;
Praife the fublime, o'erlook the mortal part;
Be there your judgment, here your candour fhewn;
Small is our portion,—and we wish 'twere none.

*Paradife Loft, Book VII. Ver. 31.

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COM US.

The lines diftinguished by inverted comas, thus,' are omitted in the reprefentation.

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ACT I.

The firft SCENE difeovers a wild wood.

The firft Attendant Spirit enters.

EFORE the ftarry threshold of Jove's court

My manfion is, where thofe immortal shapes

Of bright aërial fpirits live infpher'd

In regions mild of calm and ferene air,

• Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot,

Which men call earth, and with low-thoughted care • Confin'd and pefter'd in this pinfold here, Strive to keep up a frail and fev'rish being, • Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives, After this mortal change, to her true fervants. · Amongst the enthron'd gods on fainted feats. • Yet fome there are, that by due steps afpire To lay their just hands on that golden key, That opes the palace of eternity:

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To fuch my errand is: and but for fuch,

I would not foil these pure ambrofial weeds
With the rank vapours of this fin-worn mould.
But whence yon flanting ftream of purer light,

⚫ Which streaks the midnight gloom, and hither darts
Its beamy point? Some meffenger from Jove,
• Commiffion'd to direct or fhare my charge;
• And, if I ken him right, a spirit pure
As treads the fpangled pavement of the sky,

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The gentle Philadel: but fwift as thought

He comes

The fecond Attendant Spirit defcends.
Declare, on what strange errand bent,
Thou vifiteft this clime, to me affign'd,
So far remote from thy appointed sphere?

Sec. Spirit. On no appointed task thou seeft me now: But as returning from Elyfian bow'rs

(Whither from mortal coil a foul I wafted) Along this boundless fea of waving air

I fteer'd my flight, betwixt the gloomy fhade Of thefe thick boughs thy radiant form I fpy'd Gliding, as ftreams the moon through dusky clouds ; Inftant I ftoop'd my wing, and downward fped To learn thy errand, and with thine to join · My kindred aid, from mortals ne'er with-held, • When virtue on the brink of peril stands,

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Firft Spirit. Then mark th' occafion that demands it Neptune, I need not tell, befides the fway Of ev'ry falt flood and each ebbing stream, Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove • Imperial rule of all the fea-girt ifles, That, like to rich and various gems, inlay • The unadorned bofom of the deep, Which he, to grace his tributary gods, By courfe commits to feveral government, And gives them leave to wear their faphire crowns, And wield their little tridents: but this ifle, • The greatest and the beft of all the main, He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities; And all this tract that fronts the falling fun A noble peer of mickle truft and power Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide An old and haughty nation, proud in arms.

Sec. Spirit. Does any danger threat his legal sway, From bold fedition, or close-ambush'd treason ? Firft Spirit. No danger thence. But to his lofty feat, Which borders on the verge of this wild vale, His blooming offspring, nurs'd in princely lore, 'Are coming to attend their father's state, And new entrusted fceptre, and their way Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood,

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'The nodding horror of whofe fhady brows
Threats the forlorn and wand'ring paffenger;
"And here their tender age might fuffer peril,
But that by quick command from fovereign Jove
• I was dispatch'd for their defence and guard.

Sec. Spirit. What peril can their in nocence affail
Within these lonely and upeopled fhades?

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• Firft Spirit. Attend my words. No place but harbours danger:

• In ev'ry region virtue finds a foe.

Bacchus, that firft from out the purple grape • Crush'd the sweet poifon of mifufed wine,

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After the Tuscan mariners transform'd,

Coafting the Tyrhenne fhore, as the winds lifted, On Circe's ifland fell: (who knows not Circe, The daughter of the fun, whofe charmed cup • Whoever tafted, loft his upright shape, And downward fell into a grov'ling fwine?) This nymph, that gaz'd upon his cluft'ring locks, With ivy-berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth, Had by him, ere he parted thence, a fon Much like his father, but his mother more, Whom therefore the brought up, and Comus nam'd. Sec. Spirit. Ill-omen'd birth to virtue and her fons ! • First Spirit. He 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 imbower'd • Excels his mother at her mighty art, Off'ring to ev'ry weary traveller

His orient liquor in a chrystal glass,

• To quench the drought of Phoebus; which as they tafte, (For most do taste through fond intemp'rate thirft)

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Soon as the potion works, their human countenance, Th' exprefs refemblance 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.

Yet when he walks his tempting rounds, the forcerer "By magic pow'r their human face reftores, And outward beauty to delude the fight.

• Seca

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