Being enter'd in the pathless woods, while they
Pursue their game, Philetus, who was late
Hid in a thicket, carries straight away
His love, and hastens his own hasty fate;
That came too soon upon him; and his sun
Was quite eclipsed before it fully shone.
Constantia miss'd, the hunters in amaze
Take each a several course, and by curst Fate
Guisardo runs, with a love-carried pace,
Towards them, who little knew their woful 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 death,
In these few words he spent his latest breath:
Constantia ! my short race is run;
See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye;
But live thou happier than thy love hath done,
And when I'm dead, think sometime upon me!
More my short time permits me not to tell,
For now Death seizeth me; my dear, farewell!"
As soon as he had spoke these words, life fled
From his pierced body, whilst Constantia, she
Kisses his cheeks, that lose their lively red,
And become pale and wan; and now each eye,
Which was so bright, is like, when life was done,
A star that's fallen, or an eclipsed sun.
Thither Philocrates was driven by Fate,
And saw his friend lie bleeding on the earth;
Near his pale corpse his weeping sister sate,
Her
eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave birth. Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry, Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company!
"Just Jove hath sent me to revenge his fate; Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest: "Tis vain to hope flight can secure thy state." Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
thy life I send A sacrifice, to' appease my slaughter'd friend.”
But, as he fell, "Take this reward," said he, "For thy new victory." With that he flung His darted rapier at his enemy,
Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung. With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes, "Farewell, Constantia!" that word said, he dies.
What shall she do? She to her brother runs,
His cold and lifeless body does embrace;
She calls to him that cannot hear her moans,
And with her kisses warms his clammy face.
"My dear Philocrates!" she, weeping, cries,
Speak to thy sister!" but no voice replies.
Then running to her love, with many a tear,
Thus her mind's fervent passion she exprest;
"O stay, blest soul, stay but a little here,
And take me with you to a lasting rest.
Then to Elysium's mansions both shall fly,
Be married there, and never more to die,"
But, seeing them both dead, she cry'd, "Ah me! Philetus! for thy sake will I
Make up а full and perfect tragedy:
Since 'twas for me, dear love, that thou didst die, I'll follow thee, and not thy loss deplore;
These eyes, that saw thee kill'd, shall see no
"It shall not sure be said that thou didst die, And thy Constantia live when thou wast slain : No, no, dear soul! I will not stay from thee; That will reflect upon my valued fame." [cries, Then piercing her sad breast, "I come!" she And Death for ever closed her weeping eyes.
Her soul being fled to its eternal rest,
Her father comes, and, seeing this, he falls
To the' earth, with grief too great to be exprest:
Whose doleful words my tired Muse me calls
To' o'erpass; which I most gladly do, for fear
That I should toil too much the reader's ear.
RIGHT WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTER,
CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER-SCHOOL.
My childish Muse is in her Spring, and yet
Can only show some budding of her wit.
One frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you,
Like some unkinder storm shot from your brow,
Would turn her spring to withering autumn's time,
And make her blossoms perish ere their prime.
But if you smile, if in your gracious eye
She an auspicious alpha can descry,
How soon will they grow fruit! how fresh appear!
That had such beams their infancy to cheer!
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then
The earliest offering of her grateful pen.
Your most dutiful scholar,
ABR. COWLEY.
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
WHEN Babylon's high walls erected were
By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses join'd:
One Thisbe lived in, Pyramus the fair
In the' other: Earth ne'er boasted such a pair!
The very senseless walls themselves combined,
And grew in one, just like their master's mind.
Thisbe all other women did excel,
The queen of love less lovely was than she :
And Pyramus more sweet than tongue can tell;
Nature grew proud in framing them so well.
But Venus, envying they so fair should be,
Bids her son Cupid show his cruelty.
The all-subduing god his bow doth bend,
Whets and prepares his most remorseless dart,
Which he unseen unto their hearts did send,
And so was Love the cause of Beauty's end.
But could he see, he had not wrought their smart;
For pity sure would have o'ercome his heart.
Like as a bird, which in a net is ta'en,
By struggling more entangles in the gin;
So they, who in Love's labyrinth remain,
With striving never can a freedom gain.
The way to enter's broad; but, being in,
No art, no labour can an exit win.
These lovers, though their parents did reprove Their fires, and watched their deeds with jealousy; Though in these storms no comfort could remove The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see, Yet this could not abolish Love's decree;
For had crack'd the wall which did them part;
This the unanimous couple soon did spy,
And here their inward sorrows did impart,
Unlading the sad burthen of their heart.
Though Love be blind, this shows he can descry
A way to lessen his own misery.
|