Classic Poem

SCENE V.

LYCIDAS. PARTHENIA. DIONE. LAURA.

LYCIDAS.

What do I see? no. Fancy mocks my eyes,
And bids the dear deluding vision rise.
'Tis she. My springing heart her presence feels.
See, prostrate Lycidas before thee kneels.
Why will Parthenia turn her face away?

PARTHENIA.

Who calls Parthenia ? hah!

LYCIDAS.

— — — Stay, virgin, stay.
O wing my feet, kind Love. See, see, she bounds,
Fleet as the mountain roe, when prest by hounds.

LAURA.

What means this trembling? all her colour flies,
And life is quite unstrung. Ah! lift thy eyes,
And answer me; speak, speak, 'tis Laura calls.
Speech has forsook her lips. — She faints, she falls.
Fan her, ye Zephyrs, with your balmy breath,
And bring her quickly from the shades of death:
Blow, ye cool gales. See, see, the forest shakes
With coming winds! she breaths, she moves, she wakes.

DIONE.

Ah false Evander!

LAURA.

— — — Calm thy sobbing breast.
Say, what new sorrow has thy heart opprest.

DIONE.

Didst thou not hear his sighs and suppliant tone?
Didst thou not hear the pitying mountain groan?
Didst thou not see him bend his suppliant knee?
Thus in my happy days he knelt to me,
And pour'd forth all his soul! see how he strains,
And lessens to the sight o'er yonder plains
To keep the fair in view! run, virgin, run,
Hear not his vows; I heard, and was undone!

LAURA.

Let not imaginary terrors fright.
Some dark delusion swims before thy sight.
I saw Parthenia from the mountain's brow,
And Lycidas with prostrate duty bow;
Swift, as on faulcon's wing, I saw her fly,
And heard the cavern to his groans reply.
Why stream thy tears for sorrows not thy own?

DIONE.

Oh! Where are honour, faith, and justice flown?
Perjur'd Evander!

LAURA.

— — — Death has laid him low.
Touch not the mournful string that wakes thy woe.

DIONE.

That am'rous swain, whom Lycidas you name,
(Whose faithless bosom feels another flame)
Is my once kind Evander — yes — 'twas he.
He lives — but lives, alas! no more for me.

LAURA.

Let not thy frantick words confess despair.

DIONE.

What, know I not his voice, his mien, his air?
Yes, I that treach'rous voice with joy believ'd,
That voice, that mien, that air my soul deceiv'd.
If my dear shepherd love the lawns and glades,
With him I'll range the lawns and seek the shades,
With him through solitary desarts rove.
But could he leave me for another love?
O base ingratitude!

LAURA.

— — — Suspend thy grief,
And let my friendly counsel bring relief
To thy desponding soul. Parthenia 's ear
Is barr'd for ever to the lover's prayer;
Evander courts disdain, he follows scorn,
And in the passing winds his vows are born.
Soon will he find that all in vain he strove
To tame her bosom; then his former love
Shall wake his soul, then, will he sighing blame
His heart inconstant and his perjur'd flame:
Then shall he at Dione 's feet implore,
Lament his broken faith, and change no more.

DIONE.

Perhaps this cruel nymph well knows to feign
Forbidding speech, coy looks, and cold disdain,
To raise his passion. Such are female arts,
To hold in safer snares inconstant hearts!

LAURA.

Parthenia 's breast is steel'd with real scorn.

DIONE.

And dost thou think Evander will return?

LAURA.

Forgo thy sex, lay all thy robes aside,
Strip off these ornaments of female pride;
The shepherd's vest must hide thy graceful air,
With the bold manly step a swain appear;
Then with Evander may'st thou' rove unknown,
Then let thy tender eloquence be shown;
Then the new fury of his heart controul,
And with Dione 's sufferings touch his soul.

DIONE.

Sweet as refreshing dews, or summer showers
To the long parching thirst of drooping flowers;
Grateful as fanning gales to fainting swains,
And soft as trickling balm to bleeding pains,
Such are thy words. The sex shall be resign'd,
No more shall breaded gold these tresses bind;
The shepherd's garb the woman shall disguise.
If he has lost all love, may friendship's tyes
Unite me to his heart!

LAURA.

— — — Go, prosp'rous maid,
May smiling love thy faithful wishes aid.
Be now Alexis call'd. With thee I'll rove,
And watch thy wand'rer through the mazy grove;
Let me be honour'd with a sister's name;
For thee, I feel a more than sister's flame.

DIONE.

Perhaps my shepherd has outstript her haste.
Think'st thou, when out of sight, she flew so fast?
One sudden glance might turn her savage mind;
May she like Daphne fly, nor look behind,
Maintain her scorn, his eager flame despise,
Nor view Evander with Dione 's eyes!