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Updated: June 27, 2025
Through the tears of vexation that stood in her eyes, she looked across at the handsome boy who sat opposite her, mocking at his own misfortune, perversely indifferent to his folly, seemingly almost indifferent to its consequences. "Comus," she said quietly and wearily, "you are an exact reversal of the legend of Pandora's Box.
There the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. Milton alludes to this in his "Comus": "Now the gilded car of day His golden axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream, And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing towards the other goal Of his chamber in the east"
"Breweries and all those sort of things necessitate money to start with; one has to pay premiums or invest capital in the undertaking, and so forth. And as we have no money available, and can scarcely pay our debts as it is, it's no use thinking about it." "Can't we sell something?" asked Comus.
From a corner where he was momentarily hemmed in by a group of tea-consuming dowagers, Comus recognised the newcomer as Courtenay Youghal, and began slowly to labour his way towards him.
She loved her home and friends; she loved Irving, and Scott, and Goldsmith; she loved Beattie's Minstrel, Milton's Comus, and Campbell's Wyoming; she loved the garden and fields; she loved the woods, and lake, and sky; she loved bee-balm and clover; she loved double-pinks, and double-roses; she tasted the fragrance of peaches and apples, with a purer zest than that which relished their pleasant pulps; and every lovely and tender creature found in her a friend.
The procession of water-fetchers had formed itself in a long chattering line that stretched river-wards. Comus wondered how many tens of thousands of times that procession had been formed since first the village came into existence.
Milton, as a political writer, was English; but his "Paradise Lost and Regained," his "Samson," his "Ode on the Nativity," his "Comus," bear no reference to the land of his birth. Dryden's best-known work to- day is his "Alexander's Feast." Pope has come down to us as the translator of Homer.
I saw the procession of the Mystic Crew of Comus there, twenty-four years ago with knights and nobles and so on, clothed in silken and golden Paris-made gorgeousnesses, planned and bought for that single night's use; and in their train all manner of giants, dwarfs, monstrosities, and other diverting grotesquerie a startling and wonderful sort of show, as it filed solemnly and silently down the street in the light of its smoking and flickering torches; but it is said that in these latter days the spectacle is mightily augmented, as to cost, splendor, and variety.
The weariness in her eyes was more marked than ever as she lay back against the cushions of her carriage. "What a tragedy life is," she said, aloud to herself. Serena and Stephen Thorle were the last to leave, and Francesca stood alone for a moment at the head of the stairway watching Comus laughing and chatting as he escorted the departing guests to the door.
It was a loathsome herd, which could be compared to nothing so fitly as to the rabble of Comus, grotesque monsters, half bestial, half human, dropping with wine, bloated with gluttony, and reeling in obscene dances.
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