I willingly would weep my store,
If th' flood would land thy love,
My dear Philetus, on the fhore

Of my heart; but, fhould't thou prove
Afraid of flames, know the fires are
But bonfires for thy coming there.
THEN tears in envy of her speech did flow
From her fair eyes, as if it feem'd that there
Her burning flame had melted hills of fnow,
And fo diffolv'd them into many a tear;

Which, Nilus-like, did quickly overflow,
And quickly caus'd new ferpent griefs to grow.
Here flay, my Mufe; for if I fhould recite
Her mournful language, I thould make you weep,
Like her, a flood, and fo not fee to write
Such lines as I, and th' age requires, 'to keep

Me from ftern death, or with victorious rhyme Revenge their matter's death, and conquer

Time.

By this time, chance and his own industry
Had help'd Philetus forward, that he grew
Acquainted with her brother, fo that he
Might, by this means, his bright Conftantia view;
And, as time ferv'd, fhew'd her his mifery:
This was the first act in his tragedy.

Thus to himself, footh'd by his flattering ftate,
He faid; "How fhall I thank thee for this gain

"O Cupid! or reward my helping fate, "Which fweetens all my forrows, all my pain? "What husbandman would any pains refufe, "To reap at laft fuch fruit, his labour's ufe?" But, when he wifely weigh'd his doubtful state, Seeing his griefs link'd like an endless chain To following woes, he would when 'twas too late Quench his hot flames, and idle love disdain.

But Cupid, when his heart was fet on fire,
Had burnt his wings, who could not then re-
tire.

The wounded youth and kind Philocrates
(So was her brother call'd) grew foon fo dear,
So true and conftant in their amities,
And in that league fo ftrictly joined were,

That death itself could not their friendship fe

ver,

But, as they liv'd in love, they died together.
If one be melancholy, th' other 's fad;
If one be fick, the other 's furely ill;
And if Philetus any forrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it fill:

Pylades' foul, and mad Oreftes', was
In thefe, if we believe Pythagoras.

Oft in the woods Philetus walks, and there
Exclaims against his fate, fate too unkind:
With fpeaking tears his griefs he doth declare,
And with fad fighs inftructs the angry wind

To figh; and did ev'n upon that prevail;
It groan'd to hear Philetus' mournful tale.
The cryftal brooks, which gently run between
The fhadowing trees, and, as they through them

pafs,

Water the earth, and keep the meadows green,
Giving a colour to the verdant grafs,

Hearing Philetus tell his woeful state,

In fhew of grief run murmuring at his fate.
Philomel anfwers him again, and fhews,
In her beft language, her fad hiftory,
And in a mournful sweetness teils her woes,
Denying to be pos'd in mifery:

Conftantia he, fhe Tereus, Tereus, cries;
With him both grief, and grief's expreffion,
vies.

Philocrates must needs his fadnefs know,
Willing in ills, as well as joys, to share,
Nor will on them the name of friends beftow,
Who in light fport, not forrow, partners are.

Who leaves to guide the fhip when storms arife,
Is guilty both of fin and cowardice.
But when his noble friend perceiv'd that he
Yielded to tyrant paffion more and more,
Defirous to partake his malady,
He watches him, in hope to cure his fore

By counfel, and recall the poifonous dart, When it, alas! was fixed in his heart. When in the woods, places beft fit for care, He to himself did his paft griefs recite, Th' obfequious friend ftrait follows him, and there

Doth hide himself from fad Philetus' fight;

"But how fhould fhe, ere I impart my love,

Reward my ardent flame with like defire ? "But when I fpeak, if she should angry prove, "Laugh at my flowing tears, and fcorn my fire; "Why, he who hath all forrows borne before, "Needeth not fear to be oppreft with more."

Philocrates no longer can forbear, Runs to his friend, and fighing, "Oh!" faid he, "My dear Philetus! be thyfelf, and swear "To rule that paffion which now mafters thee,

"And all thy reafon; but, if it can't be, "Give to thy love but eyes, that it may fee." Amazement ftrikes him dumb; what fhall he do?

Should he reveal his love, he fears 'twould prove A hindrance; and, ihould he deny to show, It might perhaps his dear friend's anger move: Thefe doubts, like Scylla and Charybdis, ftand, Whilft Cupid, a blind pilot, doth command. At laft refolv'd: "How fhall I feek," faid he, "T' excufe myfelf, dearest Philocrates! "That I from thee have hid this fecrecy? "Yet cenfure not; give ine firit leave to cafe "My cafe with words: my grief you should have known

"Fre this, if that my heart had been my own.

"I am all love; my heart was burnt with fire "From two bright funs, which do all light dif clofe;

"First kindling in my breaft the flame Defire: "But, like the rare Arabian bird, there rofe

"From my heart's afhes never-quenched Love, "Which now this torment in my foul doth

move.

"Oh! let not then my paffion caufe your hate,
"Nor let my choice offend you, or detain
"Your ancient friendfhip; 'tis, alas! too late
"To call my firm affection back again :

"No phyfick can re-cure my weaken'd ftate,
"The wound is grown too great, too defpe-
rate."

"But counfel," faid his friend, "a remedy
Which never fails the patient, may at least,
If not quite heal your mind's infirmity,
Affuage your ferment, and procure fome reft.

"But," faid Philocrates, "'tis beft, in woe,
"To have a faithful partner of their care;
"That burthen may be undergone by two,
"Which is perhaps too great for one to bear.

"I should miftruft your love, to hide from me "Your thoughts, and tax you of inconftancy." What shall he do? or with what language frame Excufe? He must refolve not to deny, But open his clofe thoughts and inward flame: With that, as prologue to his tragedy,

He figh'd, as if they'd cool his torments' ire When they, alas' did blow the raging fire. "When years firft ftyl'd me twenty, I began "To sport with catching fnares that Love had fet:

"Like birds that flutter round the gin, till ta'en, "Or the poor fly caught in Arachne's net,

"Even fo I fported with her beauty's light, "Till I at lait grew blind with too much fight." "First it came ftealing on me, whilst I thought " "I was eafy to repel it; but as fire,

Though but a fpark, foon into flames is brought, "So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher;

"Which fo have fcorch'd my love-struck foul, that I

"Still live in torment, yet each minute die." "Who is it," faid Philocrates," can move "With charming eyes fuch deep affection?

may perhaps aflift you in your love; "Two can effect more than yourself alone. "My counfel this thy error may reclaim, " Or my falt tears quench thy deftructive

flame."

Nay," faid Philetus," oft my eyes do flow "Like Nilus when it fcorns th' oppofed fhore; "Yet all the watery plenty I bestow, "Is to my flame an oil that feeds it more.

"So fame reports o' th' Dodonéan spring, "That lightens all those which are put therein. "But, being your defire to know her, fhe " Is call'e" (with that his eyes let fall a fhower, As if they fain would drown the memory Of his life-keeper's name) "Conftantia-"More Grief would not let him utter; tears, the best Expreffers of true forrow, fpoke the reft.

To which his noble friend did thus reply: "And was this all? Whate'er your grief would

eafe,

"Though a far greater tafk, believe 't for thee "It should be foon done by Philocrates:

Think all you wish perform'd; but fee, the day,

"Tir'd with its heat, is hafting now away!"

Home from the filent woods night bids them go:
But fad Philetus can no comfort find;
What in the day he fears of future woe,

At night in dreams, like truth, affrights his mind. Why dost thou vex him, Love? Could'ft thou but fee,

Thou would'it thyself Philetus' rival be.
Philocrates, pitying his doleful moan,
And wounded with the forrows of his friend,
Brings him to fair Conftantia; where alone
He might impart his love, and either end

His fruitless hopes, nipt by her coy disdain,
Or, by her liking, his wifht joys attain.

"Faireft," said he," whom the bright heavens do cover,

"Do not these tears, thefe fpeaking tears, defpife! "Thefe heaving fighs of a fubmiffive lover, "Thus ftruck to th' earth by your all-dazzling eyes!

"And do you not contemn that ardent flame, "Which from yourself, your own fair beauty, came!

< Trust me, I long have hid my love; but now "Am forc'd to show 't, fuch is my inward smart! "And you alone, fair Saint! the means do know "To heal the wound of my confuming heart.

"Then, fince it only in your power doth lie "To kill or fave, Oh! help, or else I die." His gently cruel love did thus reply; "I for your pain am grieved, and would do, "Without impeachment of my chastity "And honour, any thing might pleasure you. "But, if beyond thofe limits you demand, "I muft not answer, Sir, nor understand."

"Believe me, virtuous maiden! my defire "Ischafte and pious as thy virgin thought;

No flash of luft, 'tis no difhoneft fire,

"Which goes as foon as it was quickly brought;

"Of heaven: when, Sweet, my thoughts once tax but thee

"With any crime, may I lofe all happiness

"Is wifh'd for: both your favour here, and dead,

"May the juft gods pour vengeance on my head!"

Whilft he was fpeaking this (behold their fate!)
Conftantia's father enter'd in the room,
When glad Philetus, ignorant of his state,
Kiffes her cheeks, more red than fetting fun,

Or elfe the morn, blushing through clouds of
water,

To fee afcending Sol congratulate her.

Just as the guilty prifoner fearful stands,
Reading his fatal Theta in the brows

Of him who both his life and death commands,
Ere from his mouth he the fad fentence knows:
Such was his ftate to fee her father come,
Nor wifh'd-for, nor expected, in the room.
Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare
Such bold intrusion in that house, nor be
At any time with his lov'd daughter there,
Till he had given him fuch authority:

But to depart, fince she her love did fhew him,
Was living death, with lingering torments ta
him.

This being known to kind Philocrates,
He chears his friend, bidding him banish fear,
And by fome letter his griev'd mind appease,
And fhew her that which to her friendly car

Time gave no leave to tell: and thus his quill
Declares to her the abfent lover's will.

I TRUST, dear foul, my abfence cannot move
You to forget or doubt my ardent love;
For, were there any means to fee you, I
Would run through death, and all the mifery
Fate could inflict; that fo the world might fay,
In life and death I lov'd Conftantia.

Then let not, dearest Sweet, our abfence part
Our loves, but each breast keep the other's heart;
Give warmth to one another, till there rife
From all our labours and our industries
The long-expected fruits: have patience, Sweet,
There's no man whom the fummer pleafures greet
Before he tafte the winter; none can fay,
Ere night was gone, he faw the rifing day.

So, when we once have wafted forrow's night,
The fun of comfort then fhall give us light.
PHILETUS.

This, when Conftantia read, fhe thought her ftate
Mo happy, by Philetus' conftancy
And perfect love: fhe thanks her flattering fate,
Kiffes the paper, till with kiffing she

The welcome characters doth dull and ftain:
Then thus with ink and tears writes back again.

YOUR abfence, Sir, though it be long, yet I
Neither forget nor doubt your conftancy.
Nor need you fear that I fhould yield unto
Another, what to your true love is duc.
My heart is yours; it is not in my claim,
Nor have I power to take it back again.
There's nought but death can part our fouls; no
tine,

Or angry friends, fhall make my love decline:
But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay,
Unless death cut it, ere 'tis ripe, away.

CONSTANTIA.

Oh! how this letter feem'd to raise his pride!
Prouder was he of this than Phaeton,
When he did Phabus' flaming chariot guide,
Unknowing of the danger was to come:

Prouder than Jafon, when from Colchos he
Returned with the fleece's victory.

But ere the autumn, which fair Ceres crown'd,
Had paid the sweating plowman's greedicft prayer,
And by the fall difrob'd the gaudy ground.
Of all thofe ornaments it us'd to wear;

Them kind Philocrates t' each other brought,
Where they this means t' enjoy their freedom
wrought.

"Sweet fair-one," faid Philetus, " fince the time
"Favours our wifh, and does afford us leave
"T' enjoy our loves; oh, let us not refign
"This long'd-for favour, nor ourselves bereave
"Of what we wish'd for, Opportunity,
"That may too foon the wings of love out-
fly!

"For when your father, as his custom is,
"For pleasure doth pursue the timorous hare,
"If you'll refort but thither, I'll not mifs
"To be in those woods ready for you, where

"We may depart in fafety, and no more
"With dreams of pleasure only, heal cur fore."

To this the happy lovers foon agree;
But, ere they part, Philetus begs to hear,
From her inchanting voice's melody,
One fong to fatisfy his longing ear:

She yields; and, finging added to defire,
The liftening youth increas'd his amorous fire.

III.

Then, though death's fad night appear,
And we in lonely filence reft;
Our ravish'd fouls no more shall fear,
But with lafting day be bleft.

IV.

And then no friends can part us more,
For no new death extend its power;
Thus there's nothing can diffever
Hearts which love hath join'd together.

FEAR of being feen, Philetus homeward drove,
But ere they part fhe willingly doth give
(As faithful pledges of her conftant love)
Many a foft kifs; then they each other leave,
Rapt up with fecret joy that they have found
A way to heal the torment of their wound.
But, ere the fun through many days had run,
Conftantia's charming beauty had o'ercome
Guifardo's heart, and fcorn'd affection won;
Her eyes foon conquer'd all they fhone upon,
Shot through his wounded heart fuch hot de-
fire,

As nothing but her love could quench the fire.
In roofs which gold and Parian stone adorn
(Proud as the owner's mind) he did abound;
In fields fo fertile for their yearly corn,

poor.

As might contend with fcorch'd Calabria's ground;
But in his foul, that fhould contain the store
Of fureft riches, he was bafe and
Him was Conftantia urg'd continually,
By' her friends, to love: fometimes they did in-

treat

With gentle fpeeches and mild courtesy;
Which when they fee defpis'd by her, they threat,
But love too deep was feated in her heart,
To be worn-out by thought of any smart.
Soon did her father to the woods repair,
To feek for fport, and hunt the ftarted game;
Guifardo and Philocrates were there,
With many friends too tedious here to name :

With them Conftantia went, but not to find
The bear or wolf, but Love all mild and kind.
Being enter'd in the pathlefs woods, while they
Purfue their game, Philetus, who was late
Hid in a thicket, carries ftraight away
His love, and haftens his own hafly fate;
That came too foon upon him; and his fun
Was quite eclips'd before it fully fhone.
Conftantia mifs'd, the hunters in amaze
Take each a feveral courfe, and by curft fate
Guifardo runs, with a love-carried pace,

Tow'rds them, who little knew their woeful ftate:

Philetus, like bold Icarus, foaring high
To honours, found the depth of mifery.

For when Guifardo fees his rival there,
Swelling with envious rage, he comes behind
Philetus, who fuch fortune did not fear,
And with his fword a way to 's heart does find.
But, ere his fpirits were poffeft of death,
In thefe few words he spent his latest breath:

O fee, Conftantia! my fhort race is run; "See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye; "But live thou happier than thy love hath done, "And when I'm dead, think fometime upon me! "More my short time permits me not to tell, "For now death feizeth me; my dear, farewell!"

As foon as he had fpoke thefe words, life fled
From his pierc'd body, whilst Constantia, she
Kiffes his cheeks, that lose their lively red,
And become pale and wan; and now each eye,
Which was fo bright, is like, when life was
done,

A ftar that 's fall'n, or an eclipfed fun.

Thither Philocrates was driven by fate, And faw his friend lie bleeding on the earth; Near his pale corpse his weeping fifter fate, Her eyes shed tears, her heart to fighs gave birth. "Philocrates when he faw this, did cry, "Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company!

Juft Jove hath fent me to revenge his fate;

Nay, ftay, Guifardo, think not Heaven in jest: ""Tis vain to hope flight can fecure thy state." Then thrust his fword into the villain s breast. "Here," faid Philocrates, "thy life I fend

facrifice, t' appeafe my flaughter'd friend." But, as he fell," Take this reward," said he, "For thy new victory." With that he flung His darted rapier at his enemy, Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung.

With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes,
"Farewell, Conftantia!" that word faid, he
dies.

What shall fhe do? She to her brother runs,
His cold and lifeless bodys embrace;
She calls to him that can hear her moans,
And with her kifles warms his clammy face.

"My dear Philocrates!" the, weeping, cries, Speak to thy fifter!" but no voice replies.

66

Then running to her Love, with many a tear,
Thus her mind's fervent paflion fhe expreft;
"Oftay, bleft foul, ftay but a little here,
"And take me with you to a lafting reft.

"Then to Elyfium's manfions both shall fly, "Be married there, and never more to die." But, feeing them both dead, fhe cry'd, “ Ah me! "Ah, my Philetus! for thy fake will I "Make up a full and perfc& tragedy:

"Since 'twas for me, dear Love, that thou didst die,

"I'll follow thee, and not thy lofs deplore; "Thefe eyes, that faw thee kill'd, fhall fee no

Her foul being fled to its eternal rest,
Her father comes, and, feeing this, he falls
To th' earth, with grief too great to be expreft:
Whofe doleful words my tir'd Mufe me calls
T'o'erpafs; which I most gladly do, for fear
That i should toil too much the reader's ear.

THE

TRAGICAL HISTORY

OF

PYRAMUS AND THISBE.

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL,

MY VERY LOVING MASTER,

MR. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON, Chief School-mafter of Weftminster School.

SIR,

Y childish Mufe is in her (pring, and yet

M Can only fhew fome budding of her wit.

One frown upon her work, learn'd Sir, from you,
Like fome unkinder ftorm fhot from your brow,
Would turn her fpring to withering autumn's
time,

And make her bloffoms perish ere their prime.
But if you fmile, if in your gracious eye
She an aufpicious alpha can defery,
How foon will they grow fruit! how fresh appear!
That had fuch beams their infancy to chear!
Which being fprung to ripenefs, expect then
The earlieft offering of her grateful pen.
Your molt dutiful Scholar,
ABR. COWI.EY.

PYRAMUS AND THISBE.

WHE

HEN Babylon's high walls erected were By mighty Ninus' wife, two houfes join'd. One Thisbe liv'd in, Pyramus the fair In th' other: earth ne'er boasted fuch a pair

The very fenfelefs walls themfelves combin'd, And grew in one, just like their mafter's mind. Thibe all other women did excel,

The Queen of Love lefs lovely was than fhe:
And Pyramus more fweet than tongue can tell;
Nature grew proud in framing them fo well.

Ent Venus, envying they fo fair fhould be,
Bids her fon Cupid fhew his cruelty.
The all-fubduing Cod his bow doth bend,
Whets and prepares his molt remordelefs dart,
Which he unfeen unto their hearts did fend,
And fo was Love the cause of Beauty's end.

But could he fee, he had not wrought their fmart;

For pity fure would have o'ercom: his heart.