Classic Poem

SCENE III.

PARTHENIA. SHEPHERDS.

1 SHEPHERD .

Why this way dost thou turn thy baneful eyes,
Pernicious Basilisk? Lo! there he lies,
There lies the youth thy cursed beauty slew;
See, at thy presence, how he bleeds anew!
Look down, enjoy thy murder.

PARTHENIA.

— — — Spare my fame;
I come to clear a virgin's injur'd name.
If I'm a Basilisk, the danger fly,
Shun the swift glances of my venom'd eye:
If I'm a murd'rer, why approach ye near,
And to the dagger lay your bosom bare?

1 SHEPHERD .

What heart is proof against that face divine?
Love is not in our power.

PARTHENIA.

— — — Is love in mine?
If e'er I trifled with a shepherd's pain,
Or with false hope his passion strove to gain;
Then might you justly curse my savage mind,
Then might you rank me with the serpent kind:
But I ne'er trifled with a shepherd's pain,
Nor with false hope his passion strove to gain:
'Tis to his rash pursuit he owes his fate,
I was not cruel: he was obstinate.

1 SHEPHERD .

Hear this, ye sighing shepherds, and despair,
Unhappy Lycidas , thy hour is near!
Since the same barb'rous hand hath sign'd thy doom.
We'll lay thee in our lov'd Menalcas tomb.

PARTHENIA.

Why will intruding man my peace destroy?
Let me content, and solitude enjoy;
Free was I born, my freedom to maintain,
Early I sought the unambitious plain.
Most women's weak resolves, like reeds, will ply,
Shake with each breath, and bend with ev'ry sigh;
Mine, like an oak, whose firm roots deep descend,
No breath of love can shake, no sigh can bend.
If ye unhappy Lycidas would save;
Go seek him, lead him to Menalcas ' grave;
Forbid his eyes with flowing grief to rain,
Like him Menalcas wept, but wept in vain;
Bid him his heart-consuming groans give o'er:
Tell him, I heard such piercing groans before,
And heard unmov'd. O Lycidas , be wise,
Prevent thy fate. — Lo! there Menalcas lies.

1 SHEPHERD .

Now all the melancholy rites are paid,
And o'er his grave the weeping marble laid;
Let's seek our charge; the flocks dispersing wide,
Whiten with moving fleece the mountain's side.
Trust not, ye swains, the lightning of her eye,
Lest ye like him, should love, despair, and dye.