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“ When years first styld me twenty, I began But, if beyond those limits you demand, To sport with catching Snares that Love bad 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: (won 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 eves 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; I'wo 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 quenchthy 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 I 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 (thce So fame reports o'th' Dodonéan 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 call'd” (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
Cocostantia'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 :
Or else 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, It should be soon done by Philocrates :
Reading his fatal Theta in the brows Think all your wish perform’d; but see, the day,
Of him who both his life and death commands, Tird with its heat, is hasting now away !"
Ere from his mouth he the sad sentence knows: Home from the silent woods Night bids them go : Such was his state to see her father come, , But sad Philetus can no comfort find;
Nor wish’d-for, nor expected, in the room. Wbat 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. (see,
Till he had given bim 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 « Fairest,” said he, “whom the bright Heavens do Time gave no leave to tell : and thus his quill cover,
Declares to her the absent lover's will.
PHILETUS TO CONSTANTIA. And do not you contemn that ardent Aame,
Which from yourself, your own fair beauty, came! I TRUST, dear soul, my absence cannot move “ Trust me, I long have bid my love; but now
You to forget or doubt my ardent love :
For, were there any means to see you, I Am fore'd to show't, such is my inward smart!
Would run through death, and all the misery And you alone, fair saint! the means do know
Fate could inflict; that so the world might say, To heal the wound of my consuming heart.
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 and our 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 pleasures 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.
Then, thongh Death's sad night appear,
And we in lonely silence rest; his, when Constantia read, she thought her state Our ravish'd souls no more shall fear, Most happy, by Philetus' constancy
But with lasting day be blest. And perfect love: she thanks her Hattering fate,
And then no friends can part us more, kisses the paper, till with kissing she The welcome characters doth dull and stain :
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 your 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
Guisarilo's heart, and scorn'd affection won; Or angry friends, shall make my love decline :
Her eyes soon conqner'd all they shone upon, But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay,
Shot through his wounded heart such hot de Unless Death cut it, ere 'tis ripe, away.
As nothing but her love could quench the fire.
In roofs which gold and Parian stone adom • 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 Phoebus' flaming chariot guide, As might contend with scorch'd 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, Tenjoy our loves; oh, let us not resign
To seek for sport, and hunt the started game; This long'd-for favour, nor ourselves bereave Guisardo and Philocrates were there, Of what we wish'd for, opportunity,
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 For pleasure doth pursue the timorous hare,
kind. If you 'll resort but thither, l'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 safety, 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 fully shone. From her enchanting voice a melody,
Constantia miss'd, the hunters in amaze One song to satisfy his longing ear:
Take each a several course, and by curst Fate 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 wocful state:
Philetus, like bold Icarus, soaring high
To honours, found the depth of misery.
For when Guisardo sees his rival there,
Swelling with envious rage; he comes behind
Philetus, who such fortune did not fear,
And with his sword a way to s heart does find.
But, ere his spirits were possest of deat',
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 TUISBE.
MR. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON,
CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.
SIR, Which was so bright, is like, when life was My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet done,
Can only show some budding of her wit. A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun.
Onc frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you, Thither Philocrates was driven by Fate,
Like soinc 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 his pale corpse bis weeping sister sate,
And makr her blossoms perish ere their prime. Her eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave
But if you smile, if 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 iheir infancy to chear! “Just Jove hath sent me to revenge his fate;
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then
The earliest offering of her grateful pen. Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest:
Your most dutiful scholar, "Tis vain to hope flight can secure thy state.” Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
ABR. COWLEY. “ Here,” said Philocratcs, “ thy life I send
A sacrifice, t appease my slaughter'd friend.” But, as he fell, “ Take this reward,” said he,
PYRAMUS AND TAISBE. “For thy new victory.” With that he fung
Wuen Babylon's high walls erected were His darted rapier at his enemy,
By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses joind: Which hit his hearl, and in his brain-pan hung.
One Thisbe liv'd in, Pyramus the fair With that he falls, but, lifting up his cyes,
In the other : Earth ne'er boasted such a pair! “ Farewell, Constantia !” that word said, be
The very senseless walls themselves combin'd, dies.
Aud grew in one, just like their master's mind. What shall she do? She to her brother runs, His cold and lifeless body docs embrace;
Thisbe all other women did excel, She calls to him that 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 rennorseless dart, And take me with you to a lasting rest.
Which he unseen unto their hearts did send,
And so was Love the cause of Beauty's end.
But could he see, he bad not wrought their smart;
For pity sure would have o'ercome his heart. But, seeing them both dead, she cry'd, “ Ah me! Ah, my Philetus! 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 me, 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 eyes, that saw thee kill'd, shall see no
No art, no labour can an exit win. more.
These lovers, though their parents did reprove. “ It shall not sure he 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 bis face could see, Then piercing her sad breast, “ I come !" she
Yet this could not abolish Love's decree ; .. cries,
Por 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 fled to its eternal rest,
And here their inward sorrows did impart, Her father comes, and, seeing 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 woriis my tired Muse me calls
A way to lessen his own misery. To o'erpass; which I most gladly do, for fear Oft to the friendly cranny they resort, That I should toil too much the reader's car. And feed themselves with the celestial air**
of odoriferous breath ; no other sport
So she, who fetcheth Instre from their sight, They could enjoy, y:t think the time but short, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious ligut. And wish that it again renewed were,
Unto the mulberry-tree fairThishe came; To suck each other's breath for ever there.
Where having rested long, at last she 'gan Sometimes they olid exclaim against their fate, Against her Pyramus for to exclaim, And sometimes they accus'd imperial Jove; Whilst various thoughts turinoil her troubled brain: Sometimes repent their lames; but all too late ; And, imitating thus the silver swan, The arrow could not be recall’d: their state
A little while before her death, she sang :
Come, love! why stayest thou? the night
But it was hard and knew not what they mcant, The Moon obscures herself from sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her light,
Or we by Morn shall be o'erta'en; Breaks thorough all thy finty cruelty !
Love's joy's thine owu as well as mine; For both our souls so closely joined lie,
Spend not therefore the time in vain. That nonght but angiy Death can them remole;
HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant And though he part them, yet they'll meet
song, • above."
And for her lover's stay sent many a sigh;
Her Pyramus, she thought, did tarry long, Abortire tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,
And that his absence did her too much wrong. And dammid 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 duti
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: right.
Whih, 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 fate too truly sing. Began with welcome lustre to appear,
[Aing The lovers rise, and at that cranny they
While she thus musing sat, ran fron 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, swect Thisbe strait begins “Dear love!” said Pyramus, “how long shall we,
To fly from him; fear gave her swallows' wings. Like fairest flowers not gather'd in their prime, Waste precions youth, and let advantage flee,
As she avoids the lion, her desire . 11 we bewail (at last) our cruelty
Bids her to stay, lest Pyrainus should come,
So she for ever burn in unquench'd fire : “ Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night
But fear expels all reasons; she doth run
Into a darksome cave, ne'er seen by sun,
For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, | With bloody teeth he tore in pices smail :
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
Just like a marble statue did he stand,
Cut by some skilful graver's artful hand.
Recovering breath, at Fate be did exclaim, Which Venus seeing, with blind Chance conspir'd, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed : And many a charining accent to her sent,
“ I may,” said he, “ mysel: for her death blame; That shc (ai last) would frustrate their intent. Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame: Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone,
Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed Striving to close those eyes that make her bright;
All that frail man can either hear or read.” Just like the Moon, which seeks t'ec'ipse the Sun, This spoke, he drew his fatal sword, and said, Whence all her splendor, all her beams, do come: “ Receive my crimson blood, as a due debt
'nto thy constant love, to which 'tis paid :
And on his love he rais'd his dying head: I strait will meet thee in the pleasant shade
Where, striving long for breath, at last, said he, Of cool Elysium ; where we, being met,
" () Thisbe, I am hasting to the dead, Shall taste those joys that here we could not get.” And cannot heal that wound my fear hath bred : Then through his breast thrusting his sword, life hies
Farewell, sweet Thisbe! we must parted be, From him, and he makes haste to seek his fair: .
For angry Death will force me soon froin thee.” And as upon the colour'd ground he lies,
Life did from him, he from his mistress, part, His blood had dropt upon the mulberries;
Leaving his love to languish here in woe. With which th' unspotted berries stained were, What shall she do? How shall she ease her heart? And ever since with red they colour'd are.
Or with what language speak her inward smart? At last fair Thisbe left the den, for fear
Usurping passion reason doth oerflow, Of disappointing Pyramus, since she
She vows that with her Pyramus she'll go : Was bound by promise for to meet him there : Then takes the sword wherewith her love was slain, . But when she saw the berries changed were
With Pyramus's crimson blood warm still; From white to black, she knew not certainly And said, “Oh stay, blest soul, awhile refrain, It was the place where they agreed to be.
That we may go together, and remain With what delight from the dark cave she came,
In endless joys, and never fear the ill . Thinking to tell how she escap'd the beast!
Of grudging friends !”—Then she herself did kill. But, when she saw her Pyramus lie slain,
To tell what grief their parents did sustain, Ab! how perplex'd did her sad soul remain !
Were more than my rude quill can overcome; She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast, Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain, And every sign of raging grief exprest.
For weeping calls not back the dead again. She blames all-powerful Jove ; and strives to take
Both in one grave were laid, when life was done; His bleeding body from the moisten'd ground.
And these few words were writ upon the tomb: She kisses his pale face, till she doth make It red with kissing, and then seeks to wake
ЕРІТАРН. His parting soul with mournful words; his wound
UNDERNEATH this marble stone, Washes with tears, that her sweet speech confound.
Lie two beauties join'd in one.
Two, whose loves deaths could not sever; But afterwards, recovering breath, said she,
For both liv'd, both dy'd together. “ Alas! what chance hath parted thee and I ?
Two, whose souls, being too divine O tell what evil hath befall'n to thee,
For earth, in their own sphere now shine.
Tell Thisbe what hath caus'd this tragedy !" Who have left their loves to fame,