THE SONG.

I.

COME, Love! why stayeft thou? the night.
Will vanish ere we taste delight:

The moon obfcures herself from fight,
Thou absent, whofe eyes give her light.

II.

Come quickly, dear! be brief as time,
Or we by morn fhall be o'erta'en ;
Love's joy's thine own as well as mine;
Spend not therefore the time in vain.

HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant fong,
And for her lover's stay sent many a figh;

Her Pyramus, fhe thought, did tarry long,
And that his abfence did her too much wrong.
Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy,
She fears, yet 's loth to tax, his loyalty.

Sometimes the thinks that he hath her forfaken;
Sometimes, that danger hath befallen him :
She fears that he another Love hath taken ;
Which, being but imagin'd, foon doth waken
Numberlefs thoughts, which on her heart did fling
Fears, that her future fate too truly fing.

WHILE the thus mufing fate, ran from the wood
An angry lion to the crystal springs,

Near to that place; who coming from his food,
His chaps were all besmear'd with crimson blood

Swifter than thought, fweet Thisbe strait begins To fly from him; fear gave her swallows' wings. As fhe avoids the lion, her defire

Bids her to stay, left Pyramus fhould come,
And be devour'd by the stern lion's ire,
So fhe for ever burn in unquench'd fire :

But fear expels all reasons; she doth run
Into a darkfome cave, ne'er feen by fun.
With hafte fhe let her loofer mantle fall:
Which, when th' enraged lion did espy,
With bloody teeth he tore in pieces small;
While Thisbe ran, and look'd not back at all;
For, could the fenfeless beast her face descry,
It had not done her fuch an injury.

The night half wafted, Pyramus did come;
Who, seeing printed in the yielding fand
The lion's paw, and by the fountain some
Of Thisbe's garment, forrow ftruck him dumb :
Just like a marble ftatue did he stand,

Cut by fome skilful graver's artful hand.

Recovering breath, at Fate he did exclaim, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed : "I may," said he, “ myself for her death blame "Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame :

"Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed "All that frail man can either hear or read."

;

This fpoke, he drew his fatal fword, and said,
"Receive my crimson blood, as a due debt
"Unto thy conftant love, to which 'tis paid:
"I ftrait will meet thee in the pleasant shade

"Of cool Elyfium; where we, being met,

"Shall taste those joys that here we could not get.'
Then through his breast thrusting his fword, life hies
From him, and he makes hafte to feek his Fair:
And as upon the colour'd ground he lies,
His blood had dropt upon the mulberries;

With which th' unspotted berries ftained were,
And ever fince with red they colour'd are.
At laft fair Thisbe left the den, for fear
Of disappointing Pyramus, fince the
Was bound by promife for to meet him there :
But when she saw the berries changed were

From white to black, fhe knew not certainly
It was the place where they agreed to be.
With what delight from the dark cave she came,
Thinking to tell how the efcap'd the beast!
But, when the faw her Pyramus lie flain,

Ah! how perplex'd did her sad soul remain !

She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast,
And every fign of raging grief expreft.

She blames all-powerful Jove; and strives to take
His bleeding body from the moisten'd ground.
She kiffes his pale face, till the doth make
It red with kiffing, and then seeks to wake

His parting foul with mournful words; his wound
Washes with tears, that her sweet speech confound.

But

But afterwards, recovering breath, faid she,
"Alas! what chance hath parted thee and I?
"O tell what evil hath befall'n to thee,
"That of thy death I may a partner be :

"Tell Thisbe, what hath caus'd this tragedy!" He, hearing Thisbe's name, lifts up his eye; And on his Love he rais'd his dying head: Where, ftriving long for breath, at last, said he, "O Thisbe, I am hafting to the dead,

"And cannot heal that wound my fear hath bred:
"Farewell, fweet Thibe! we must parted be,
"For angry Death will force me foon from thee,"
Life did from him, he from his mistress, part,
Leaving his Love to languish here in woe.
What shall she do? How hall the eafe her heart?
Or with what language speak her inward smart ?
Ufurping Paffion Reason doth o'erflow,
She vows that with her Pyramus fhe 11 go:

Then takes the fword wherewith her Love was flain,
With Pyramus's crimson blood warm still;
And faid, "Oh ftay, bleft foul, awhile refrain,
That we may go together, and remain
"In endless joys, and never fear the ill

"Of grudging friends!"Then the herself did kill.

To tell what grief their parents did sustain,
Were more than my rude quill can overcome;
Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain,
For weeping calls not back the dead again.

Both in one grave were laid, when life was done;
And these few words were writ upon the tomb :

U

E PIT A PH.

· I.

'NDERNEATH this marble stone, Lie two beauties join'd in one.

II.

Two, whose loves death could not fever; For both liv'd, both dy'd together.

A

III.

Two, whofe fouls, being too divine
For earth, in their own sphere now shine.

IV.

Who have left their loves to fame,
And their earth to earth again.