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my case ?"
Soon as the morning left her rosy bed,
Of his unhappy fate, but all in vain ; And all heaven's smaller lights were driven away, And thus fond Echo answers him again: She, by her friends and near acquaintance led, It mov'd Aurora, and the wept to hear, Like other maids, would walk at break of day : Dewing the verdant grass with many a tear.
Aurora blush'd to fee a light unknown,
To behold cheeks more beauteous than her own.
THE Е сно.
1. From her, whose eyes had stole away his heart. H! what hath caus'd my killing miseries "**
Eres," Echo said. “ What hath detain's Philctus he was call'd, sprung from a race Of noble ancestors; but greedy Time
“ Ease,” straight the reasonable nymph replies. And envious Fate had labour'd to deface
" That nothing can my troubled mind appease ?" The glory which in his great stock did shine :
“ PEACE," Echo answers, “ What, is any Small his estate, unfitting her degree; But blinded Love could no such difference sec.
Philetus said. She quickly utters, Yet he by chance had hit his heart aright,
II. And dipt his arrow in Conftantia's eyes,
“ Is 't Echo answers ? tell me then thy will :" Blowing a fire that would destroy him quite,
“ I WILL," the said. • What shall I get,” says Unless such flames within her heart should rise.
hc, But yet he fears, because he blinded is,
“ By loving still?" To which she answers, “ ILL." Though he have shot him right, her heart he'll
“ ni! Shall I void of wish'd-for pleasures die? miss.
“ Shall not I, who toil in ceaseless pain, Unto Love's altar therefore he repairs,
“ Some pleasure know?” “ No," he replica And offers up a pleasing facrifice;
again. Intreating Cupid, with inducing prayers,
III. To look upon and ease his miseries :
« False and inconstant nymph, thou lyett !" said Where having wept, recovering breath again, Thus to immortal Lovc he did complain :
"“ Tuou LYEST," she said; “ And I deserv'd her « Oh, mighty Cupid! whose unbounded sway
hate, " Hath often rul'd th’Olympian thunderer; “ If I should thec believe." “ BELIEVE," faith " Whom all cælestial deities obey;
The. k. Whom men and gods both reverence and fear! “ For why? thy idle words are of no weight." « Oh force Constantia's heart to yield to love ! “ WEIGHT," she answers. “ Therefore I'll
« Of all thy works the master-piece 'twill prove. u And let me not affection vainly spend,
To which resounding Echo answers, “ Part." " But kindle flames in her like those in me; THEN from the woods with wounded heart he " Yet is that gift my fortune doth transcend,
gocs, « Grant that her charming beauty I may see! Filling with legions of fresh thoughts his mind, “ For ever view those eyes, whose charming He quarrels with himself, because his woes light,
Spring from himself, yet can no medicine find: “ More than the world besides, does please my He weeps to quench the fires that buru in him, fight.
But tears do fall to th' earth, flames are wich
in. “ Those who contema thy sacred deity, “ Laugh at thy power, make them thine anger No morning banish'd darkness, nor black night know:
By her alternate course expellid the day, " I faultless am; what honour can it be,
In which Philctus by a constant rite « Only to wound your flave, and spare your foe?" At Cupid's altars did not weep and pray;
Here tears and lighs speak his imperfect moan, And yet he nothing reap'd for all his pain,
In language far more moving than his own. But care and forrow was his only gain. Home he retir'd, his soul he brought not home; But now at last the pitying God, o'ercome Just like a ship, while every mounting wave By constant votes and tears, fix'd in her heart Tofs'd by enraged Boreas up and down,
A golden shaft, and the is now become Threatens the mariner with a gaping grave; A suppliant to Love, that with like dart
Such did his case, such did his state appear, He'd wound Philetus; does with tears implore Alike distracted between hope and fear.
Aid from that power the so much scorn'd be.
fore. Thinking her love he never shall obtain, One morn he haunts the woods, and doth con- Little she thinks she kept Philetus' heart plain
In her scorch'd breast, because her own she gave
To him. Since either fuffers equal smart, “ O Cupid ! or reward my helping fate,
« Which sweetens all my sorrows, all my pain ? His soul, his griess, his fires, now her's are “ What husbandman would any pains refule, grown:
“ To reap at last such fruit, his labour's use!" Her heart, her mind, her love, is his alone.
But, when he wisely weigh'd his doubtful state, Whilft thoughts 'gainst thoughts rise up in mu Seeing his griefs link'd like an endless chain tiny,
To following woes, he would when 'twas too late She took a lute (being far from any ears)
Quench his hot flames, and idle love diflain. And tun'd this song, posing that harmony
But Cupid, when his heart was set on fire, Which poets attribute to heavenly spheres.
Had burnt his wings, who could not then reThus had the fung when her dear love was
'The wounded youth and kind Philocrates She'd surely call'd him back from Styx again.
(So was her brother call'd) grew foon so dear,
But, as they liv'd in love, they died icgether.
If one be melancholy, th' other 's fad; 1.
If one be fick, the other 's surely ill; whom shall I my sorrows show ?
And if Philetus any furrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it ftill: And my Philetus doth not know
Pylades' soul, and mad Orestes', was The inward torment of my mind.
In these, if we believe Pythagoras. and all the senselcss walls, which are Now round about me, cannot hear;
Oft in the woods Philetus valks, and there
Exclaims against his fate, fate too unkind:
With speaking tears his griefs he doth declare, For, if they could, they sure would wcep, And with sad fighs instructs the angry wind And with my griefs relent;
To figh; and did ev'n upon that prevail;
It groan'd to hear Philetus' mournful talc.
The crystal brooks, which gently run between My fate, fince I taught them before.
The shadowing trees, and, as they through them
Water the earth, and keep the meadows green, I willingly would weep my store,
Giving a colour to the verdant grass, If th flood would land in love,
Hearing Philctus tell his woeful state, My dear Philetus, on the shore
In fhew of grief run murmuring at his fate. of my heart; but, should'st thou prove Afraid of flames, know the fires arc
Philomel answers him again, and shews, But bonfires for thy coming there.
In her best language, her sad history,
And in a mournful sweetness tells her'woes, THEN tcars in envy of her speech did flow
Denying to be pos'd in misery : from her fair eyes, as if it seem'd that there
Constantia he, she Tercus, Tereus, cries; Her burning fame had melted hills of snow,
With him both gries, and grief's expression, And so diffolv'd them into many a tear;
vies. Which, Nilus-like, did quickly overflow, And quickly caus'd new ferpent griefs to grow,
Philocrates must needs his sadness know,
Willing in ills, as well as joys, to share, Here stay, my Muse; for if I should recite
Nor will on them the name of fri rds bestow, Her mournful language, I thould make you weep, Who in light sport, not sorrow, partners are. Like her, a flood, and so not see to write
Who leaves to guide the thip when storms arile, Such lines as I, and th' age requires, to keep
Is guilty both of sin and cowardice.
But when his noble friend perceiv'd that he
Yielded to tyrunt paflion more and more,
Defirou». to partake his malady, B; this time, chance and his own industry
He watches him, in hope to cure his sore Had help'd Philctus forward, that he grew
Py counsel, and recall the poisonous dart,
When it, alas! was fixe! in his heart.
When in the woods, places best fit for care,
He to himself did his past griefs recite,
Th' obfequious friend itrait follows him, and Thus to himself, footh’d by his flattering state,
there He said; “ How shall I think thee for this gain Doth hide himself from fad Piriletus' light;
Who thus exclaims (for a swoln heart would
break, If it for vent of sorrow might not speak): « Oh! I am loft, not in this desart wood, “ But in Love's pathless labyrinth; there I “ My health, each joy and pleasure counted good, “ Have loft, and, which is more, my liberty;
" And now am forc'd to let him facrifice
Long have I ftaid, but yet have no relief; « Long have I lov’d, yet have no favour shown; 6 Because she knows not of my killing grief, “ And I have fear'd to make my sorrows known.
“ For why, alas ! if she should once but dart
heart. But how should fhe, ere I impart my love, “ Reward my ardent flame with like desire ? “ But when I speak, if the shouli angry prove, “ Laugh at my flowing tears, and scorn my fire;
“ Why, he who hith all sorrows borne before,
“ Needeth not fear to be opprest with more.” Philocrates no longer can forbear, Runs to his friend, and lining, “ Oh!" said he, “ My dear Philctus! be thyself, and swear “ To rule that passion which now masters thee,
" And all thy reason ; but, if it can't be,
“ Give to thy love but eyes, that it may fee.” Amazement strikes him dumb; what shall he
do? Should he reveal his love, he fears 'twould prove A hindrance; and, should he deny to show, It might perhaps his dear friend's anger move :
These doubts, like Scylla and Charybdis, stand,
Whilft Cupid, a blind pilot, doth command. At last resolv'd: “ How shall I seek," said he, “ T'excuse myself, dearcít Philocrates ! u That I from thee have hid this secrecy? " Yet cenfure not ; give ine firit leave to ease “ My case with words: my grief you should
have known " Ere this, if that my heart had been my own. “ I am all love ; my heart was burnt with fire “ From two bright suns, which do all light dif
close; "First kindling in my breast the flame Desire: é. But, like the rare Arabian bird, there rose
“ From my heart's ashes never-quenched Love, " Which now this torment in ny soul doth
« But there is no physician can apply
“A medicine ere he know the malady." “ Then hear me," said Philetus; “ but why?
Stay, “ I will not toil thee with my history; « For to remember sorrows pait away, “ Is to renew an old calamity.
“ He who acquainteth others with his moan, “ Adds to his friend's grief, but not cures his
own." « But,” said 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 mistrust your love, to hide from me
“ Your thuughts, and tax you of inconstancy."
He sigh’d, as if they'd cool his torments' ire
When they, alas' did blow the raging fire. “ When years first styld me twenty, I began " To sport with catching snares that Love had
fet : “ Like birds that flutter round the gin, tili ta'en, “ Or the poor fly caught in Arachne's net,
“ Fven fo I sported with her beauty's light,
“ Till I at last grew blind with too much light. “ First it came stealing on me, whilft I thuught “ 'Twas easy to repel it; but as fire,
Though but a spark, soon into flames is brought, “ So mine grew great, and quickly mounted
higher; “ Which so have scorch'd my love-struck soul,
that I ' Still live in torment, yet each minute die." “ Who is it,” said Philocrates, “ “ With charruing eyes such decp affection? “ I may perhaps allist you in your love ; “ Two can effect more than yourself alone.
My counsel this thy error may reclaim, " Or my falt tears quench thy deftru&ive
flame." Nay,” said Philetus, “ oft my eyes do flow “ Like Nilus when it scorns th' opposed Thore; “ Yet all the watery plenty 1 bestow, “ Is to my flame an oil that feeds it more.
“ Şo fame reports o'th' Dodonéan spring,
“ That lightens all those which are put therein. “ But, being your desire to know her, she “ Is call'd” (with that his cyes let fall a shower, As if they fain would drown the memory Of his life-keeper's name) “ Constantia~" More
Grief would not let him utter; tears, the bcít
Expressers of truc sorrow, spoke the rest. To which his noble friend did thus reply: “ And was this all? Whate'er your grief would
ease, " Though a far greater task, believe 't for thee “ It should be soon done by Philocrates :
« Oh! let not then my passion cause your hate,
“ No phylick can re-cure my weakcn'd state,
rate." But counsel," said his friend, a remedy " Which never fails the patient, may at Icast, « If not quitc heal your mind's infirmity, * Alluage your tormcat, and procure fome reft.
« Think all you with perform’d; but see, the “ Of heaven : when, Sweet, my thoughts once day,
tax but thee “ Tir’d with its heat, is hafting now away!" “ With any crime, may I lose all happiness
“ Is with'd for: both your favour here, and Home from the silent woods night bids them go :
dead, But ind Philetus cap no comfort find;
May the just gods pour vengeance on my What in the day he lears of future woe,
head!" At night in dreams, like truth, affrights his mind. Why doit thou vex him, Love? Could'it thou Whilst he was speaking this (hehold their fate!) but see,
Constantia's father enter'd in the room, Thou would'st thyself Philetus' rival be.
When glad Philetus, ignorant of his state,
Kulcs her cheeks, more red than setting fun, Pull crates, pitying his doleful moan,
Or else the morn, blushing through clouds of And Younded with the sorrows of his friend,
water, Brings him to fair Conftantia; where alone He mighe impart his love, and either end
To fee ascending Sol congratulate her. His fruitless hopes, nipt by her coy disdain, Just as the guilty prisoner fearful stands, Or, by her liking, his witht joys attain.
Reading his fatal Theta in the brows
Of him who both his life and death commands, * Faireft," said he, “ whom the bright heavens
Ere from his mouth hc the sad sentence knows:
Such was his state to see her father come, “ Do not these tears, these speaking tears, despise !
Nor wish'd-for, nor expected, in the room, “ These heaving fighs of a submissive lover, Thus struck to th' earth by your all-dazzling
Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare eyes!
Such bold intrusion in that house, nor be * And do you not coatemn that ardent flame, At any time with his lov'd daughter there, " Which from yourself, your own fair beauty, Till he had given him such authority : came!
But to depart, since the her love did few him,
Was living death, with lingering torments ta * Trust me, I long have hid my love; but now
him. An fore'd to show 't, such is my inward smart!
And you alone, fair Saint! the means do know 'This being known to kind Philocrates, * To heal the wound of my consuming heart, He chears his friend, bidding him banish fear,
Then, since it only in your power doth lie And by some letter his griev'd mind appeale, " To kill or save, Oh! help, or else I die." And thew her that which to her friendly ear
Time gave no leave to tell: and thus his quill His gently cruel love did thus reply;
Deciares to her che absent lover's will. " } for your paiu am grieved, and would do, " Without impeachment of my chastity * And honour, any thing might pleasure you.
* But, if beyond those limits you demand, " I must not answer, Sir, nor understand.”
THE LET T E R. Believe me, virtuous maiden! my defire
PHILETUS " is chale and pious as thy virgin thought; * No flash of luft, 'tis no dishonest fire,
I TRUST, dear foul, my absence cannot move “ Which goes as soon as it was quickly brought; You to forget or doubt my arden: love;
* But as thy beauty pure; which let not be For, were there any means to see you, I * Eclipsed by disdain and cruelty!
Would run through death, and all the misery
Fate could inflict; that so the world might say, " Oh! how shall I reply ?" she cry'd, " thou 'n
In life and death I lov'd Conftantia.
Then let not, dearest Sweet, our absence part My soul, and therefore take thy vi&ory:
Our loves, but each breast keep the other's heart; Thy eyes and speeches have my heart o'ercome,
Give warruth to one another, till there rise And if I should deny thee love, then I
From all our labours and our industries Should be a tyrant to myself: that fire " Which is kept close burns with the greatest
The long-expected fruits; have patience, Sweet,
There's no man whom the summer pleasures greet ire.
Before he taste the winter; none can say, Yet do not count my yielding lightness, now; Ere night was gone, he faw the rising day. Impute it rather to my ardent love;
So, when we once have wafted sorrow's night, * Thy pleasing carriage won me long ago,
The fun of comfort then shall give us liglit. " And pleading beauty did nıy liking move ;
PHILETIS. Thy eyes, which draw like loadstones with
This, when Costantia read, Me thonglit her state The hardest hearts, won mine to leave me
Most happy, by Philctus' constancy quite."
Ard perfect love: she thanks her flattering fate,
Kifies the paper, till with kising the *Oh! I am rapt above the reach,” said he, The welcome characters doth duil and stain:
Of thought; my soul aiready feels the bliss Then thus with ink and tears writus back again,
YOUR absence, Sir, though it be long, yet I Neither forget nor doubt your constancy. Nor need you fear that I should 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 souls ; no
But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay,
Oh! how this letter secin'd to raise his pride!
Prouder than Jason, when from Colchos he
Returned with the fleece's victory.
Them kind Philocrates t' each other brought,
wrought. « Sweet fair-one,” said Philetus, “ since the time “ Favours our with, and docs afford us leave “ T'enjoy our loves; oh, let us not relign “ This long'd-for favour, nor ourselves bereave
“ Of what we wish'd for, Opportunity,
“ We may depart in safety, and no more
“ With dreams of pleafure only, heal cur sore."
She yields; and, singing added to desire,
Rapt up with secret joy that they have found
A way to heal the torment of their wound. But, ere the fun through many days had run, Constantia's charming beauty had o'ercome Guisardo's heart, and scorn'd affection won; Her eyes foon conquer'd all they shone upon, Shot through his wounded heart such hot de
fire, As nothing but her love could quench the fire. In roofs which gold and Parian stonc adorn (Proud as the owner's mind) he did abound; În fields fo fertile for their yearly corn, As might contend with scorch'a Calabria's ground;
But in his soul, that should contain the ftore
Of sureft riches, he was bafe and poor. Him was Constantia urg'd continually By' her friends, to love: sometimes they did inWith gentle speeches and mild courtesy; Which when they see despis’d by her, they threai.
But love too deep was scated in her heart,
To be worn-out by thought of any smart.
With them Conftantia went, but not to find
The bear or wolf, but Love all mild and kind. Being enter'd in the pathless woods, while they Pursue their game, Philetus, who was late Hid in a thickct, carries straight away His love, and haitens his own hally fate;
That came too soon upon him; and his fun
Was quite eclips'd before it fully more.
To honours, found the depth of misery.
Eut, ere his fpirits were posleit of death,