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John Milton, from Comus

from Scene 1 of Comus: Mask by John Milton

Comus enters with a Charming Rod in one hand,
his Glass in the other, with him a rout of Mon—
sters headed like sundry sorts of wilde Beasts,
but otherwise like Men and Women, their Ap—
parel glistring, they com in making a riotous
and unruly noise, with Torches in their hands.

The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,
Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,
And the gilded Car of Day,
His glowing Axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantick stream,
And the slope Sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky Pole,
Pacing toward the other gole
Of his Chamber in the East.
Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,
Midnight shout, and revelry,
Tipsie dance and Jollity.
Braid your Locks with rosie Twine
Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
Rigor now is gon to bed,
And Advice with scrupulous head,
Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
With their grave Saws in slumber ly.
We that are of purer fire
Imitate the Starry Quire,
Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,
Lead in swift round the Months and Years.