Once more I come the moving cause to plead,
If still his sufferings cannot intercede,
Yet let my friendship do his passion right,
And show thy lover in his native light.

PARTHENIA.

Why in dark mystery are thy words involv'd? If Lycidas you mean; know, I'm resolv'd.

DIONE.

Let not thy kindling rage my words restrain.
Know, then, Parthenia slights no vulgar swain.
For thee he bears the scrip and sylvan crook,
For thee the glories of a court forsook.
May not thy heart the wealthy flame decline!
His honours, his possessions, all are thine.

PARTHENIA.

If he's a courtier, O ye nymphs, beware!
Those who most promise are the least sincere.
The quick-ey'd hawk shoots headlong from above,
And in his pounces bears the trembling dove;
The pilfering wolf o'erleaps the fold's defence.
But the false courtier preys on innocence.
If he's a courtier, O ye nymphs, beware:
Those who most promise are the least sincere.

DIONE.

Alas! thou ne'er hast prov'd the sweets of state,
Nor known that female pleasure, to be great.
'Tis for the town ripe clusters load the poies,
And all our Autumn crowns the courtier's bowls;
For him our woods the red-ey'd pheasant breed,
And annual coveys in our harvest feed;
For him with fruit the bending branch is stor'd,
Plenty pours all her blessings on his board.
If (when the market to the city calls)
We chance to pass beside his palace-walls,
Does not his hall with Music's voice resound,
And the floor tremble with the dancer's bound?
Such are the pleasures Lycidas shall give,
When thy relenting bosom bids him live.

PARTHENIA.

See yon gay goldfinch hop from spray to spray,
Who sings a farewel to the parting day;
At large he flies o'er hill and dale and down;
Is not each bush, each spreading tree his own?
And canst thou think he'll quit his native brier,
For the bright cage o'er-arch'd with golden wire?
What then are honours, pomp and gold to me?
Are those a price to purchase liberty?

DIONE.

Think, when the Hymeneal torch shall blaze,
And on the solemn rites the virgins gaze;
When thy fair locks with glittering gems are grac'd,
And the bright zone shall sparkle round thy waist;
How will their hearts with envious sorrow pine,
When Lycidas shall join his hand to thine!

PARTHENIA.

And yet, Alexis, all that pomp and show
Are oft the varnish of internal woe.

When the chaste lamb is from her sisters led,
And interwoven garlands paint her head;
The gazing flock, all envious of her pride,
Behold her skipping by the priestess' side;
Each hopes the flowery wreath with longing eyes;
While she, alas! is led to sacrifice!
Thus walks the bride in all her state array'd,
The gaze and envy of each thoughtless maid.

Yes, blooming swain. You show an honest mind;
I see it, with the purest flame refin'd.
Who shall compare love's mean and gross desire
To the chaste zeal of friendship's sacred fire?
By whining love our weakness is confest;
But stronger friendship shows a virtuous breast.
In Folly's heart the short-liv'd blaze may glow,
Wisdom alone can purer friendship know.
Love is a sudden blaze which soon decays,
Friendship is like the Sun's eternal rays;
Not daily benefits exhaust the flame,

It still is giving, and still burns the same;
And could Alexis from his soul remove
All the low images of grosser love;

Such mild, such gentle looks thy heart declare,
Fain would my breast thy faithful friendship share.

Why stays Alexis? can my bosom bear
Thus long alternate storms of hope and fear?
Yonder they walk; no frowns her brow disguise,
But love consenting sparkles in her eyes;
Here will I listen, here, impatient wait.

Say, shepherd, when you proffer'd wealth and state, Did not her scorn and suppled pride abate?

DIONE.

As sparkling diamonds to the feather'd train,
Who scrape the winnow'd chaff in search of grain;
Such to the shepherdess the court appears:
Content she seeks, and spurns those glittering cares.

LYCIDAS.

PARTHENIA.

'Tis not from courts, from me alone she flies.
Did not my passion suffer like disgrace,
While she believ'd me born of sylvan race?
Dost thou not think, this proudest of her kind
Has to some rival swain her heart resign'd?

Was ever grief like mine! O wretched maid!
My friendship wrong'd! my constant love betray'd!
Misfortune haunts my steps where'er I go,
And all my days are overcast with woe.
Long have I strove th' increasing load to bear,
Now faints my soul, and sinks into despair.
O lead me to the hanging mountain's cell,

In whose brown cliffs the fowls of darkness dwell;

Where waters, trickling down the rifted wall,
Shall lull my sorrows with the tinkling fall.
There seek thy grave. How canst thou bear the
When banish'd ever from Evander's sight! [light,

SCENE VIII.

DIONE, LAURA.

LAURA.

Why hangs a cloud of grief upon thy brows? Does the proud nymph accept Evander's vows?

DIONE.

Can I bear life with these new pangs opprest! Again he tears me from his faithless breast:

A perjur'd lover first he sought these plains,
And now my friendship like my love disdains.
As I new offers to Parthenia made,

Conceal'd he stood behind the woodbine shade.
He says, my treacherous tougue his heart betray'd,
That my false speeches have misled the maid,
With groundless fear he thus his soul deceives;
What frenzy dictates, jealousy believes.

LAURA.

Resign thy crook, put off this manly vest,
And let the wrong'd Dione stand confest;
When he shall learn what sorrows thou hast borne,
And find that nought relents Parthenia's scorn,
Sure he will pity thee.

DIONE.

-No, Laura, no. Should I, alas! the sylvan dress forego, Then might he think that I her pride foment, That injur'd love instructs me to resent; Our secret enterprise might fatal prove: Man flies the plague of persecuting love.

LAURA.

Avoid Parthenia; lest his rage grow warm, And jealousy resolve some fatal harm.

DIONE.

O Laura, if thou chance the youth to find,
Tell him what torments vex my anxious mind;
Should I once more his awful presence seek,
The silent tears would bathe my glowing cheek;
By rising sighs my faultering voice be stay'd,
And trembling fear too soon confess the maid.
Haste, Laura, then; his vengeful soul assuage,
Tell him, I'm guiltless; cool his blinded rage;
Tell him that truth sincere my friendship brought,
Let him not cherish one suspicious thought.
Then, to convince him his distrust was vain,
I'll never, never see that nymph again.
This way he went.

IAURA.

-See, at the call of Night, The star of evening sheds his silver light High o'er yon western hill: the cooling gales Fresh odours breathe along the winding dales; Far from their home as yet our shepherds stray, To close with cheerful walk the sultry day. Methinks from far I hear the piping swain; Hark in the breeze now swells, now sinks the Thither I'll seek him. [strain!

DIONE.

-While this length of glade Shall lead me pensive through the sable shade; Where on the branches murmur rushing winds,

Grateful as falling floods to love-sick minds;

O may this path to Death's dark vale descend! There only can the wretched hope a friend. [Ex severally.

ACT V. SCENE I. A wood.

Dione, Cleanthes (who lies wounded in a distant part of the stage).

DIONE.

THE MOON serene now climbs th' aërial way; See, at her sight ten thousand stars decay:

With trembling gleam she tips the silent grove,
While all beneath the chequer'd shadows move.
Turn back thy silver axles, downward roll,
Darkness best fits the horrours of my soul.
Rise, rise, ye clouds; the face of Heaven deform,
Veil the bright goddess in a sable storm:
O look not down upon a wretched maid!
Let thy bright torch the happy lover aid,
And light his wandering footsteps to the bower
Where the kind nymph attends th' appointed hour.
Yet thou best seen unhappy love, like mine;
Did not thy lamp in Heaven's blue forehead shine,
When Thisbe sought her love along the glade?
Didst thou not then behol the gleaming blade,
And gild the fatal point that stabb'd her breast?
Soon I, like her, shall seek the realms of rest.
Let groves of mournful yew a wretch surround!
O sooth my ear with melancholy sound!
The village-curs now stretch their yelling throat,
And dogs from distant cots return the note;
The ravenous wolf along the valley prowls,
And with his famish'd cries the mountain howls.
But hark! what sudden noise advances near?
Repeated groans alarm my frighted ear!

Stay, fleeting life; may strength a-while prevail,
Lest my clos'd lips contine th' imperfect tale.
Ere the streak'd east grew warm with amber ray,
I from the city took my doubtful way;
Far o'er the plains I sought a beauteous maid,
Who, from the court, in these wide forests stray'd,
Wanders unknown; as I, with weary pain,
Try'd every path, and opening glade, in vain,
A band of thieves, forth-rushing from the wood,
Unsheath'd their daggers warm with daily blood;
Deep in my breast the barbarous steel is dy'd,
And purple hands the golden prey divide.
Hence are these mangling wounds. Say, gentle
If thou hast known among the sylvan train [swain,
The vagrant nymph I seek?

DIONE.

-What mov'd thy care, Thus, in these pathless wilds, to search the fair?

CLEANTHES.

I charge you, O ye daughters of the grove,
Ye Naïads, who the mossy fountains love,
Ye happy swains, who range the pastures wide,
Ye tender nymphs, who feed your flocks beside;
If my last gasping breath can pity move,
If e'er ye knew the pangs of slighted love,
Show her, I charge you, where Cleanthes dy'd;
The grass yet reeking with the sanguine tide.

VOL. X.

A father's power to me the virgin gave, But she disdain'd to live a nuptial slave; So fled her native home.

DIONE.

'Tis then from thee Springs the foul source of all her misery. Could'st thou, thy selfish appetite to please, Condemn to endless woes another's peace?

CLEANTHES.

O spare me; nor my hapless love upbraid,
While on my heart Death's frozen hand is laid!
Go, seek her, guide her where Cleanthes bled;
When she surveys her lover pale and dead,
Tell her, that since she fled my hateful sight,
Without remorse I sought the realms of night.
Methinks I see her view these poor remains,
And on her cheek indecent gladness reigns!
Full in her presence cold Cleanthes lies,
And not one tear stands trembling in her eyes!
O let a sigh my hapless fate deplore!
Cleanthes now controls thy love no more.

Tell her, since all my hopes in her were lost, That death was welcome

DIONE.

[Dies.

What sudden gusts of grief my bosom rend!
A parent's curses o'er my head impend,
For disobedient vows; O wretched maid,
Those very vows Evander hath betray'd.
See, at thy feet Cleanthes bath'd in blood!
For love of thee he trod this lonely wood;
Thou art the cruel authoress of his fate;
He falls by thine; thou, by Evander's hate.
When shall my soul know rest? Cleanthes slain
No longer sighs and weeps for thy disdain.
Thou still art curst with love. Bleed, virgin, bleed.
How shall a wretch from anxious life be freed!
My troubled brain with sudden frenzy burns,
And shatter'd thought now this, now that way turns.
What do I see thus glittering on the plains?
Ha! the dread sword yet warm with crimson stains!
[Takes up the dagger.

You, whose ambition labours to be great,
Think on the perils which on riches wait.
Safe are the shepherd's paths; when sober Even
Streaks with pale light the bending arch of Heaven,
From danger free, through deserts wild he hies,
The rising smoke far o'er the mountain spies,
Which marks his distant cottage; on he fares,
For him no murderers lay their nightly snares;
They pass him by, they turn their steps away:
Safe Poverty was ne'er the villain's prey.
At home he lies secure in easy sleep,
No bars his ivy-mantled cottage keep;

No thieves in dreams the fancy'd dagger hold,
And drag him to detect the buried gold;
Nor starts he from his couch aghast and pale,
When the door murmurs with the hollow gale.
While he, whose iron coffers rust with wealth,
Harbours beneath his roof Deceit and Stealth;
Treachery with lurking pace frequents his walks,
And close behind him horrid Murder stalks.
'Tis tempting lucre makes the villain bold:
There lies a bleeding sacrifice to gold.

DIONE.

To live, is but to wake to daily cares,
And journey through a tedious vale of tears.
Had you not rush'd between, my life had flown;
And I, like him, no more had sorrow known.

PARTHENIA.

When anguish in the gloomy bosom dwells,
The counsel of a friend the cloud dispels.
Give thy breast vent, the secret grief impart,
And say what woe lies heavy at thy heart.
To save thy life, kind Heaven has succour sent,
The gods by me thy threaten'd fate prevent.

DIONE.

No. To prevent it, is beyond thy power;
Thou only canst defer the welcome hour.
When you the lifted dagger turn'd aside,
Still fate is in my reach.
Only one road to death thy force deny'd.
From mountains high,
Deep in whose shadow craggy ruins lie,
Can I not headlong fling this weight of woe,
And dash out life against the flints below?
Are there no streatns, and lakes, and rivers wide,
Where my last breath may bubble on the tide?
No. Life shall never flatter me again,
Nor shall to morrow bring new sighs and pain.

PARTHENIA.

Can I this burthen of thy soul relieve, And calm thy grief?

DIONE.

-If thou wilt comfort give, Plight me thy word, and to that word be just, When poor Alexis shall be laid in dust, That pride no longer shall command thy mind, That thou wilt spare the friend I leave behind. I know his virtue worthy of thy breast. Long in thy love may Lycidas be blest!

PARTHENIA.

That swain (who would my liberty control,
To please some short-liv'd transport of his soul)
Shows, while his importuning flame he moves,
That 'tis not me, himself alone he loves.
Olive, nor leave him by misfortune prest:
'Tis shameful to desert a friend distrest.

DIONE.

Alas! a wretch like me no loss would prove, Would kind Parthenia listen to his love.

PARTHENIA.

Why hides thy bosom this mysterious grief? Ease thy o'erburthen'd heart, and hope relief.

DIONE.

What profits it to touch thy tender breast,
With wrongs, like mine, which ne'er can be redrest?
Let in my heart the fatal secret lie,
Nor call up sorrow in another's eye'