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Thus to himself, sooth' by his flattering state, Long have I staid, but yet have no relief; He said: “ How shall I thank thee for this gain, Long have I lov'd, yet have a favour shown; O Cupid! or reward my helping Fate,
Because she knows not of my killing grief, Which sweeteos all my sorrows, all my pain ? And I havc fear'd to make my sorrows known. What husbandman would any pains refuse,
For why? alas! if she should once but dart To reap at last such fruit, his labour's use ?" Disdainful looks, 'twould break my captiv'd hearto But, when he wisely weigh'd his doubtful state, “ But how should she, cre I impart my love, Seeing his griefs link'd like an endless chain Reward my ar lent flame with like desire? To following woes, he would when 'twas too late But when I speak, if she should angry prove, Quencii his hot Haines, and idle love disilain. Laugh at my flowing tears, and scorn my fire ? But Cupid, when his heart was set on fire,
Why, he who hath all sorrows borne before, Had burnt his wings, who could not then retire. Needeth not fear to be opprest with more." The wounded youth and kind Philocrates
Philocrates no longer can forbear, (So was her brother call’d) grew soon so dear, Runs to his friend, and sighing, " Oh !” said he, So true and constant in their amities,
My dear Philetus! be thyself, and swear And in that league so strictly joine:l were,
To rule that passion which now masters thce, That death itself coull not their friendship sever, And all thy reason; but, if it can't be,
But, as they liv'd in love, they died together. Give to thy love but eyes, that it may see.” If one be melancholy, th’ other's sad;
Amazement strikes him dumb; what shall he do? If one be sick, the other's suely ill;
Should he reveal his love, hc fears 'twould prove And if Philetus any sorrow had,
A hindrance; and, should he deny to shew, Philocrates was partner in it still:
It might perhaps his dear friend's anger move : Pylarles' soul, and mad Orestes', was
These doubts, like Scylla and Charybdis, stand, In these, if we believe Pythagoras.
Whilst Cupid, a blind pilot, doth command. Oft in the woors Philetus walks, and there
At last resolvd : “ How shall I seek," said he, Exclairns against his fate, fate too unkind :
“ T'excuse myself, dearest Philocrates! With speaking tears his griets he doth declare, That I from thee have hid this secrecy? And with sad sighs instructs the angry wind
Yet censure not; give me first leave to case/known To sigh; and did ev'n upon that prevail ;
My case with words: my grief you should have It groan'd to hear Fliletus' mournful tale. Ere this, if that my heart had been my own. The crystal brooks, which gently run between “ I am all love; my heart was burnt with fire The shailovingtrees, and,astbey through them pass, From two bright suns, which do ail light disclose; Water the earth, and keep the meadows green, First kindling in my breast the fame desire : Giving a colour to the verdant grass,
But, like the rare Arabian bird, there rose, Hearing Philetus tell his woeful state,
From my heart's ashes, never quenched Love, In show of grief run murmuring at his fate.
Which now this torment in my soul doth move. Philomel answers him again, and shows,
“Oh! let not then my passion cause your hate In ber best language, her sad history,
Nor let my choice offend you, or detain And in a mournful sweetness tells her woes, Your ancient friendship ; "tis, alas! too late Denying to be pos'd in misery :
To call my firm affection back again : Constantia he, she Tereus, Tereus, cries;
No physic can re-cure my weaken'd state, With him both grief, and grief's expression, vies. The wound is grown too great, too desperate." Philocrates must needs his sadness know,
" But counsel,” said his friend, “a remedy Willing in ills, as well as joys, to share,
Which never fails the patient, may at least,
Who leaves to guide the ship when storms arise, But there is no physician can apply
A med'cine ere he know the malady."
I will not toil thee with my history; Desirous to partake his malady,
For to remember sorrows past away, He watches him, in hope to cure his sore
Is to renew an old calamity. By counsel, and recall the poisonous dart,
He who acquainteth others with his moan, When it, alas! was fixed in his heart.
Adds to his friend's grief, but not cures his own." When in the woods, places best fit for care, “ But,” said Philocrates, “ 'tis best, in woe, He to himself did his past griefs recite,
'To have a faithful partner of their care; Th'obsequious friend straight follows him, and there that burthen may be undergone by two, Doth hide himself from sad Philetus' sight; Which is perhaps too great for one to bear.
Whothusexclaims (fora swoln heart would break, I should mistrust your love, to hide from me If it for vent of sorrow might not speak):
Your thoughts, and tax you of inconstancy.” « Oh! I am lost, not in this desert wood, What shall he do? or with what language frame But in Love's pathless labyrinth; there I
Excuse? He must resolve not to deny, My health, each joy and pleasure counted good, But open his close thoughts and inward flame : Have lost, and, which is more, my liberty ; With that, as prologue to his tragedy, And now am forc'd to let him sacrifice
He sigh'd, as if they'd cool his torments' ire, My heart, for rash believing of my eyes.
When they, was! did blow the raging fire.
“ When years first styld me twenty, I began But, if beyond those limits you demand, To sport with catching snares that Love had set: I must not answer, sir, nor understand.” Like birds that flutter round the gin till ta'en,
“ Believe me, virtuous maiden! my desire Or the poor fly caught in Arachne's net,
Is chaste and pious as thy virgin thought; Even so I sported with her beauty's light,
No flash of lust, 'tis no dishonest fire, Till I at last grew blind with too much sight.
Which goes as soon as it was quickly brought; “ First it came stealing on me, whilst I thought But as thy beauty pure; which let not be 'Twas easy to repel it ; but as fire,
Eclipsed by disdain and cruelty !" Though but a spark, soon into flames is brought,
“ Oh! how shall I reply?" she cry'd, “ thou 'st So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher ;
My soul, and therefore take thy victory: (wou Which so have scorch'd my love-struck soul, Thy eyes and speeches have my heart o'ercome, that I
And if I should deny thee love, then I Still live in torment, yet each minute die.”
Should be a tyrant to myself : that fire " Who is it,” said Philocrates, “ can move
Which is kept close burns with the greatest ire. With charming eyes such deep affection?
“ Yet do not count my yielding lightness, now; I may perhaps assist you in your love;
Impute it rather to my ardent love; Two can effect more than yourself alone.
Thy pleasing carriage won me long ago, My counsel this thy errour may reclaim,
And pleading Beauty did myliking move; [might Or my salt tears quench thy destructive flame."
Thy eyes, which draw like loadstones with their “ Nay,” said Philetus, “oft my eyes do flow The hardest hearts, won mine to leave me Like Nilus, when it scorns th' opposed shore;
quite." Yet all the watery plenty l bestow,
“Oh! I am rapt above the reach," said he, Is to my flame an oil that feeds it more.
“Of thought; my soul already feels the bliss (thee So fame reports o' th’ Doclonéan spring,
Of Heaven : when, sweet, my thoughts once tax but That lightens all those which are put therein.
With any crime, may I lose all happiness “ But, being you desire to know her, she
Is wish'd for: both your favour here, and dead, Is callid” (with that his eyes let fall a shower, May the just gods pour vengeance on my head!” As if they fain would drown the memory
Whilst he was speaking this (behold their fate !) Of his life-keeper's name) “ Constantia--" More
Constantia's father enter'd in the room, Grief would not let him utter ; tears, the best
When glad Philetus, ignorant of his state, Expressers of true sorrow, spoke the rest.
Kisses her cheeks, more red than setting Sun, To which his noble friend did thus reply:
Orelse the Morn,blushing through clouds of water, “ And was this all ? Whate'er your grief would ease, To see ascending Sol congratulate her. Though a far greater task, believe't, for thee
Just as the guilty prisoner fearful stands
Reading his fatal Theta in the brows
Ere from his mouth he the sad sentence knows :
Nor wish'd-for, nor expected, in the room. What in the day he fears of future woe,
Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare At night in dreams, like truth, affrights his mind.
Such bold intrusion in that house, nor be Why dost thou vex him, Love? Could'st thou but
At any time with his lov'd daughter there, Thou would'st thyself Philetus' rival be. [sce, Till he had given him such authority: Philocrates, pitying his doleful moan,
But to depart, since she her love did show him, And wounded with the sorrows of his friend,
Was living death, with lingering torments, to him, Brings him to fair Constantia ; where alone
This being known to kind Philocrates, He might impart his love, and either end
He chears his friend, bidding him banish fear, His fruitless hopes, nipt by her coy disdain, And by some letter his griev'd mind appease, Or, by her liking, his wisht joys attain.
And show her that which to her friendly ear
Declares to her the absent lover's will.
PHILETUS TO CONSTANTIA.
You to forget or doubt my ardent love : Ain forc'd to show't, such is my inward smart!
For, were there any means to see you, I
Would run through death, and all the misery
Fate could inflict; that so the world might say.
In life and death I lov'd Constantia. Then, since it only in your power doth lie
Then let not, dearest sweet, our absence part To kill or save, Oh! help, or else I die.”
Our loves, but each breast keep the other's heart; His gently cruel love did thus reply;
Give warmth to one another, till there rise “ I for your pain am grieved, and would do, From all our labours aivour industries Without impeachment of my chastity
The long-expected fruits : bave patience, sweet! And honour, any thing might pleasure you.
There's no man whom the summer asures greet
Before he taste the winter; none can say,
Comfort's Sun we then shall see, Ere night was gone, he saw the rising day.
Though at first it darken'd be
Our Day will put his lustre on.
And we in lonely silence rest;
But with lasting day be blest. And perfect love: she thanks her flattering fate,
And then no friends can part us more,
Nor no new death extend its power;
Thus there's nothing can dissever
Hearts which Love hath join’d together.
FEAR of being seen, Philetus homeward drove,
But ere they part she willingly doth give YOUR absence, sir, though it be long, yet
(As faithful pledges of her constant love) Neither forget nor doubt your constancy.
Many a soft kiss; then they each other leave, Nor need you fear that I should yield unto
Rapt up with secret joy that they have found Another, what to our true love is due.
A way to heal the torment of their wound.
But, ere the Sun through many days had run, There's nought but death can part our souls ; no Constantia's charming beauty had o'ercome time,
Guisardo's heart, and scorn'd affection won; Or angry friends, shall make my love decline : Her eyes soon conquer'd all they shone upon, But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay,
Shot through his wounded heart such hot deUnless Death cut it, ere 'tis ripe, away.
As nothing but her love could quench the fire. CONSTANTIA.
In roofs which gold and Parian stone adorn Oh ! how this letter seem'd to raise his pride! (Proud as the owner's mind) he did abound; Prouder was he of this than Phæton,
In fields so fertile for their yearly corn, When he did Phæbus' flaming chariot guide, As might contend with scorchid Calabria's Unknowing of the danger was to come:
ground; Prouder than Jason, when from Colchos he
But in his soul, that should contain the store Returned with the fleece's victory.
Of surest riches, he was base and poor. But ere the autumn, which fair Ceres crown'd, Him was Constantia urg'd continually, Had paid the sweating plowman's greediest prayer, By her friends, to love: sometimes they did enAnd by the fall disrobed the gaudy ground
treat Of all those ornaments it us'd to wear ;
With gentle speeches and mild courtesy; Them kind Philocrates t' each other brought, Which when they see despis’d by her, they Where they this means t enjoy their freedom
But love too deep was seated in her heart, . “Sweet fair-one,” said Philetus, since the time
To be worn-out by thought of any smart. Favours our wish, and does afford us leave
Soon did her father to the woods repair,
To seek for sport, and hunt the started game;
With many friends too tedious here to name: That may too soon the wings of Love out-fly! With them Constantia went, but not to find “For when your father, as his custom is,
The bear or wolf, but Love, all mild and
kind. For pleasure doth pursue the timorous hare, If you 'll resort but thither, I'll not miss
Being enter'd in the pathless woods, while they To be in those woods ready for you, where
Pursue their game, Philetus, who was late We may depart in sa ety, and no more
Hid in a thicket, carries straight away With dreams of pleasure only, heal our sore." His love, and hastens his own hasty fate; To this the happy lovers soon agree ;
That came too soon upon him; and his sun But, ere they part, Philetus begs to hear,
Was quite eclips'd before it fuily shone. From her enchanting voice a rielody,
Constantia miss'd, the hunters in amaze One song to satisfy his longing ear:
Take each a several course, and by curst Fa te She yields; and, singing added to desire, Guisardo runs, with a love-carried pace, The listening youth increas'd his amorous fire.
Tow'rds them, who little knew their woeful state :
Philetus, like bold Icarus, soaring high
To honours, found the depth of :nisery.
For when Guisardo sees his rival there,
Swelling with envious rage, he comes behind TIME! Ay with greater speed away,
Philetus, who such fortune did not fear, Add feathers to thy wings,
And with his sword a way to s heart does find. Til thy haste in flying brings
But, ere his spirits were possest of death, That wisk'd-for, and expected day.
In these few words he spent his latest breath:
“O see, Constantia! my short race is run;
THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye;
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
More my short time permits une not to tell,
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTER well!"
MR. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON, As soon as he had spoke these words, life fed From his pierc'd body, whilst Constantia, she CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. Kisses his cheeks, that lose their lively red, And become pale and wan; and now each eye,
SIR, Which was so bright, is like, when life was My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet done,
Can only show soinc budding of her wit. A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun.
One frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you, Thither Pbilocrates was driven by Fate,
Like some unkinder storm shot from your brow, And saw his friend lie bleeding on the earth;
Would turn her spring to withering autumn's time, Near bis pale corpsc his weeping sister sate,
And inake her blossoms perish ere their prime. Her eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave
But if you smile, it in your gracious eye birth,
She an auspicious alpha can descry, Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry,
How soon will they grow fruit ! how fresh appear! “ Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company !
That had such beams their infancy to chear !
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then “ Just Juve hath sent me to revenge his fate;
The earliest offering of her grateful pen. Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest :
Your most dutiful scholar, "Tis vain to bope flight ran secure thy state." Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
ABR. COWLEY, “ Here,” said Philocrates, “ thy life I send
A sacrifice, t appease my slaughter'd friend.”
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses join'd :
One Thisbe liv'd in, Pyramus the fair
In the other: Earth ne'er boasted such a pair ! “ Farewell, Constantia !” that word said, he dics.
The very senseless walls themselves combin'd,
And grew in one, just like their master's inind. What shall she do? She to her brother runs, His cold and lifeless body does embrace;
Thisbe all other women did excel, She calls to him chat cannot hear her moans,
The queen of love less lovely was than she : And with her kisses warms his clammy face.
And Pyramus more sweet than tongue can tell; “My dear Philocrates !” she, weeping, cries,
Nature grew proud in framing them so well. “Speak to thy sister !” but no voice replies.
But Venus, envying they so fair should be,
Bids her son Cupid show his cruelty.
The all-subduing god his bow doth bend, “O stay, blest soul, stay but a little here,
Whets and prepares his most remorseless dart, And take me with you to a lasting rest.
Which he unseen unto their hearts did send, Then to Elysium's mansions both shall fly,
And so was Love the cause of Beauty's end. Be married there, and never more to die."
But could he see, he bad not wrought their smart,
For pity sure would have o'ercome his heart. But, sering them both dead, she cry'd, “ Ah me! Ah, my Philctus! for thy sake will I
Like as a bird, which in a net is ta’en, Make up a full and perfect tragedy :
By struggling more entangles in the gin; Since 'twas for ine, dear love, that thou didst So they, who in Love's labyrinth remain, die,
With striving never can a freedom gain. I'll follow thee, and not thy loss deplore;
The way to enter's broad; but, being in, These cyes, that saw thee kill'd, shall see no
No art, no labour can an exit win.
These lovers, though their parents did reprove " It shall not sure be said that thou didst die,
Their fires, and watched their deeds with jealousy; And thy Constantia live when thou wast slain:
Though in these storms no comfort could remove No, no, dear soul! I will not stay from thee;
The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; That will reflect upon my valued fame.”
Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see, Then piercing ber sad breast, “ I come !" she
Yet this could not abolish Love's decree ; cries,
For age had crack'd the wall which did them part; And Death for ever clos'd her weeping eyes. This the unanimous couple soon did spy, Her soul being Ard to its eternal rest,
And here their inward sorrows did impart, Her father comcs, and, secing this, he falls
Unlading the sad burthen of their heart. To th' earth, with grief too great to be exprest:
Though Love be blind, this shows he can descry Whose doletul words my tired Muse me calls
A way to lessen his own misery.
Of odoriferous breath; no other sport
So she, who fetcheth lustre from their sight, They could enjoy; yet think the time but short, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious light. And wish that it again renewed were,
Unto the mulberry-tree fairThisbe came; To suck each other's breath for cver there.
Where having rested long, at last she’gan Sometimes they did exclaim against their fate, Against her Pyramus for to exclaim, And sometimes they accus'd imperial Sove; Whilst various thonghts turmoil her troubled brain: Sometimes repent their fames; but all too late; And, iinitating thus the silver swan, The arrow could not be recallid: their state
A little while before her death, she sang:
Come, love! why stayest thou ? the night And by their tears could understand their smart: Will vanish ere we taste delight:
But it was hard and knew not what they meant, The Moon obscures herself froin sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her light.
Or we by Morn shall be,o'erta'en; Brea's thorough all thy tiinty cruelty !
Love's joy's thine own as well as mine; For both our souls so closely joined lie,
Spend not therefore the time in rain. That nought but angry Death can them remove;
HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant And though he part them, yet they'll meet
And for her lover's stay sent many a sigh;
Her Pyramus, she thought, did tarry long, Abortive tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,
And that his absence did her too much wrong. And damm'd the lovely splendour of their sight,
Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy, Which seem'd like Titan,wh Ist some watery cloud
She fears, yet's loth to tax, his loyalty. O'erspreads his face, and his bright beams duth shroud ;
Sometimes she thinks that he hath her forsaken ; Till Vesper chas'd away the conquer'd light,
Sometimes, that danger hath befallen him : And forced them (though loth) to bid good- She fears that he another love hath taken; night.
Which, being but imagin’d, soon doth waken
Numberless thoughts, which on her heart did But ere Aurora, usher to the day,
Fears, that her future tate too truly sing. [fling Began with welcome lustre to appear, The lovers rise, and at that cranny they
While she thus musing sat, ran from the wood Thus to each other their thoughts open lay,
An angry liun to the crystal springs, With many a sigh and many a speaking tear ;
Near to that place; who coming from his food, Whose grief the pitying Morning blusht to hear.
His chaps were all besmear'd with crimson blood :
Swifter than thought, sweet Thisbe strait begius « Dear love!” said Pyramus, “ how long shall we,
To fly from him; fear gave her swallows' wings. Like fairest flowers not gatherd in their prime, Waste precious youth, and let advantage fee,
As she avoids the lion, her desire Till we bewail (at last) our cruelty
Bids her to stay, lest Pyramus should come, l'pon ourselves ? for beauty, though it shine And be devour'd by the stern lion's ire, Like day, will quickly find an evening-time.
So she for ever bumn in unquench'd fire :
But fear expels all reasons; she doth run “Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night
Into a darksome cave, ne'er seen by sun.
For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, With bloody teeth he tore in pieces small;
For, could the senseless beast her face descry, " What though our cruel parents angry be?
It had not done her such an injury.
The night half wasted, Pyramus did come;
Who, seeing printed in the yielding sand Who lets slip Fortune, her shall never find;
The lion's paw, and by the founta n some Occasion, once pass’d by, is bald behind.” Of Thisbe's garment, sorrow struck bim dumb;
Just like a marble statue did he stand, She soon agreed to that wbich he requir'd,
Cut by some skilful graver's artful hand For little wooing needs, where both consent; What he so long had pleaded, she desir’d: Recovering breath, at Fate he did exclaim, Which Venus seeing, with blind Chance conspir'd, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed :
And many a charming accent to her sent, “ I may,” said he," myself for her death blaine; That she (at last) would frustrate their intent. Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame:
Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone,
All that frail man can either hear or read." Striving to close those eyes that mak her bright; Just like the Moon, which seeks t' ec ipse the Sun, This spoke, he drew his fatal sword, and said, Whence all ber splendor, all ber beams, do come: " Receive my crimson blood, as a due debt