Dione. A Pastoral Tragedy - Act 4, Scene 2

SCENE II.

LYCIDAS. DIONE. PARTHENIA.

LYCIDAS.

Hath proffer'd greatness yet o'ercome her hate?
And does she languish for the glitt'ring bait?
Against the swain she might her pride support.
Can she subdue her sex, and scorn a Court?
Perhaps in dreams the shining vision charms,
And the rich bracelet sparkles on her arms;
In fancy'd heaps the golden treasure glows:
Parthenia wake; all this thy swain bestows.

DIONE.

Sleeps she in these close bowers?

LYCIDAS.

— — — Lo! there she lies.

DIONE.

O may no startling sound unseal her eyes,
And drive her hence away. 'Till now, in vain
I trod the winding wood and weary plain.
Hence, Lycidas ; beyond those shades repose,
While I thy fortune and thy birth disclose.

LYCIDAS.

May I Parthenia to thy friendship owe!

DIONE.

O rather think on lost Dione 's woe!
Must she thy broken faith for ever mourn,
And will that juster passion ne'er return?

LYCIDAS.

Upbraid me not; but go. Her slumbers chase;
And in her view the bright temptation place.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.