What fudden gufts of grief my bofom rend!
A parent's curfes o'er my head impend,
For disobedient vows; O wretched maid,
Thofe 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 authorefs of his fate;
He falls by thine; thou, by Evander's hate.
When shall my foul know reft? Cleanthes flain
No longer fighs and weeps for thy disdain.
Thou still art curft with love. Bleed, virgin, bleed.
How fhall a wretch from anxious life be freed!
My troubled brain with fudden frenzy burns,
And shatter'd thought now this, now that way turns.
What do I fee thus glittering on the plains?
Ha! the dread fword yet warm with crimson stains!
[Takes up the dagger.
Sweet is the walk when night has cool'd the hour. This path directs me to my fylvan bower. [Afide.
Why is my foul with fudden fear difmay'd?
Why drops my trembling hand the pointed blade?
Oftring my arm with force!
PARTHENIA.
Methought a noife
Broke through the filent air, like human voice. [Afide.
One well-aim'd blow fhall all my pangs remove, Grafp firm the fatal fteel, and ceafe to love. [Afide.
Sure 'twas Alexis. Ha! a fword display'd!
The ftreaming luftre darts across the fhade. [Afide.
May Heaven new vigour to my foul impart,
And guide the desperate weapon to my heart! [Afide.
May I the meditated death arreft! [Holds Dione's hand.
Strike not, rash fhepherd; spare thy guiltless breast.
O give me ftrength to ftay the threaten'd harm,
And wrench the dagger from his lifted arm!
What cruel hand with-holds the welcome blow?
In giving life, you but prolong my woe.
O may not thus th' expected ftroke impend!
Unloose thy grafp, and let fwift death defcend.
But if yon' murder thy red hands hath dy'd;
Here. Pierce me deep; let forth the vital tide.
[Dione quits the dagger.
Wait not thy fate; but this way turn thy eyes:
My virgin hand no purple murder dyes.
Turn then, Alexis; and Parthenia know, 'Tis the protects thee from the fatal blow.
Muft the night-watches by my fighs be told?
And muft these eyes another morn behold
Through dazling floods of tears? Ungenerous maid,
The friendly ftroke is by thy hand delay'd;
Call it not mercy to prolong my breath;
'Tis but to torture me with lingering death.
What moves thy hand to act this bloody part? Whence are these gnawing pangs that tear thy heart? Is that thy friend who lies before thee flain?
Is it his wound that reeks upon
-No. I the ftranger found,
Ere chilly death his frozen tongue had bound.
He faid; "As at the rofy dawn of day,
He from the city took his vagrant way,
A murdering band pour'd on him from the wood, First seiz'd his gold, then bath'd their swords in blood."
You, whofe ambition labours to be great,
Think on the perils which on riches wait.
Safe are the fhepherd's paths; when fober Even
Streaks with pale light the bending arch of Heaven,
From danger free, through deferts wild he hies,
The rifing smoke far o'er the mountain fpies,
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 aghaft and pale,
When the door murmurs with the hollow gale.
While he, whofe iron coffers ruft with wealth,
Harbours beneath his roof Deceit and Stealth;
Treachery with lurking pace frequents his walks,
And clofe behind him horrid Murder stalks.
'Tis tempting lucre makes the villain bold:
There lies a bleeding facrifice to gold.
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 forrow known,
When anguish in the gloomy bofom dwells,
The counsel of a friend the cloud difpels.
Give thy breast vent, the fecret grief impart,
And fay what woe lies heavy at thy heart.
To fave thy life, kind Heaven has fuccour fent,
The Gods by me thy threaten'd fate prevent.
No. To prevent it, is beyond thy power;
Thou only canft defer the welcome hour.
When you the lifted dagger turn'd afide,
Only one road to death thy force deny'd;
Still fate is in my reach. From mountains high,
Deep in whofe fhadow craggy ruins lie,
Can I not headlong fling this weight of woe,
And dash out life against the flints below?
Are there not ftreams, and lakes, and rivers wide,
Where my laft breath may bubble on the tide ?
No. Life fhall never flatter me again,
Nor shall to-morrow bring new fighs and pain.
Can I this burthen of thy foul relieve,
And calm thy grief?
-If thou wilt comfort give,
Plight me thy word, and to that word be just;
When poor Alexis fhall be laid in duft,
That pride no longer fhall 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 bleft!
That fwain (who would my liberty control,
To please some short-liv'd transport of his foul)
Shows, while his importuning flame he moves,
That 'tis not me, himself alone he loves.
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