WRFH/Radio Free Hillsdale 101.7 FM - The Poetry Fix: Comus, Part Three

Episode Date: April 29, 2026

Join Erika Kyba to read an excerpt from Milton's Comus, in which the titular trickster spirit is introduced. She discusses Comus's use of rhetoric, mixing the pleasurable with the destructive and so using it to bait his listener.

Welcome to the Poetry Fix on Radio Free Hillsdale 101.7 FM. I'm your host, Erica Kaiba, bringing you your weekly fix of poetry from across time. Today we're reading an excerpt from Milton's Comus, in which the titular Comus enters the drama of the poem for the first time. This is a wicked yet seductive spirit, the son of Dionysus, god of wine and revelry, and Circe, the trickster witch from the Odyssey. You can see these influences on Comus as he celebrates the arrival

of night, appearing with the rise of the evening star, and the disappearance of the mythological chariot of the sun into the sea. Comus declares that it is time for merriment, for welcome joy and feast, midnight shout, and revelry. This all sounds pretty good, right? Then Comus switches gears and expresses joy that rigor, advice, strict age and sour severity have gone to bed, allowing men to be completely lawless. Because we're riding on the high of his lines about feasting and making Mary, it's hard not to celebrate with him at the suspension of rigor and severity. But for advice and old age to disappear? These both refer to the good counsel that can protect us from folly, and their absence would

leave us vulnerable. But that's how Comus, the trickster, operates. He'll mix up the desirable with the destructive, thus trapping his victims. Pay attention to his rhetoric in the speech I'm about to read, and notice how he chooses his words to achieve a certain emotional effect. With all that said, let's dive in. Comus by John Milton. The star that bids the shepherd fold, now the top of heaven doth hold. And the gilded car of day, his glowing axle doth allay in the steep Atlantic stream. And the slope sun, his upward beam, shoots against the dusky pole, pacing toward the other goal of his chamber in the east.

Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast, Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and Jolity, braid your locks with rosy twine, dropping odors, dropping wine, rigor now is gone to bed, and advice with scrupulous head, strict age and sour severity, with their grave saws in slumber lie. We that are of purer fire imitate the starry choir, who in their nightly watchmen, spiritual spheres lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas with all their finny drove, now to the moon and wavering Morris move. And on the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves by dimpled brook and fountain brim, the wood nymphs decked with daisies trim their merry wakes and pastimes keep. What hath night to do with sleep? Night hath

better sweets to prove. Venus now wakes and wakens love. Come, let us our rites begin. Tis only daylight that makes sin, Which these done shades won't ne'er report. Hail goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veiled Kataito, Toom the secret flame of midnight torches burns. Mysterious dame,

That ne'er art called, But when the dragon womb of Stygian darkness Spits her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air. Stay thy cloudy, ebon chair, wherein thou ridest with Hecate, and befriend us thy vowed priests till utmost end of all thy dues be done, and none left out, ere the babbling eastern scout the nice morn on the Indian steep,

from her cabined loophole peep, and to the telltale sun to scry our concealed solemnity. Come knit hands and beat the ground in a light fantastic round. You've been listening to the poetry fix with Erica Kaiba. If you enjoyed this episode, consider following The Poetry Fix on Spotify, YouTube, or Apple Podcasts. And if you have any poems you want to see in a future episode, email your suggestions to thepoetryfix at gmail.com. Join me next week and we'll be continuing our journey through Milton's Comas.