 | Leucothoe |  |
12
SCENE III.
PHOEBUS,CLYTIE.
Hah! whence this boldness? now who dares intrude
Upon my peaceful, sacred solitude?
Clytie,
kneeling.
Light of the world, great eye, and soul,
View at your feet a suppliant maid;
Behold my tears, for you they roll,
For you these sighs my breast invade.
Ah! turn your face; ah! cease to chide;
Nor let, while my distress you see,
What's warmth and life to all beside,
Be coldness, and be death to me.
Phoebus.
Have I not told you, Clytie, o'er and o'er,
That we must meet upon these terms no more?
Why then persist you thus to haunt me still,
And force me to be cruel 'gainst my will?
Clytie.
Because I love, 'tis therefore I pursue.
Oh need I say I love! you know I do.
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Brought me to meet your dread resentment here,
The resolution of my doom to know,
And die,—if you, unkind, will have it so.
Phoebus.
Leave me, and live.
Clytie.
Inhuman! rather say,
Oh ten times rather,—Clytie, Die, and stay.
To life with firmness I can bid adieu;
But 'tis impossible to part from you.
Phoebus.
Be gone.
Clytie.
I cannot.—There was once a time,
When such a word would have been thought a crime.
Oh change, how great! my person to behold,
Am I deform'd, or suddenly grown old?
If ever I had charms your love to gain,
Methinks those charms their wonted bloom retain.
Say then in what, in what is't I offend?
Let me but know my fault, I'll strive to mend.
Phoebus.
Would you my languid appetite revive,
And keep the just expiring flames alive,
Mild and reserv'd you should at distance stand,
And gently feed it with a cautious hand:
What sparingly applied, renews desire;
Pour'd on, extinguishes, and damps the fire.
And keep the just expiring flames alive,
Mild and reserv'd you should at distance stand,
And gently feed it with a cautious hand:
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Pour'd on, extinguishes, and damps the fire.
Give me the nymph who charms with ease,
Whose greatest pleasure is to please;
Whose passion ne'er tyrannic grows,
But hand in hand with freedom goes;
Who ne'er feels transport in her breast,
But as she sees her lover blest:
'Tis such a nymph, and only she,
Must hope to gain a heart from me.
Whose greatest pleasure is to please;
Whose passion ne'er tyrannic grows,
But hand in hand with freedom goes;
Who ne'er feels transport in her breast,
But as she sees her lover blest:
'Tis such a nymph, and only she,
Must hope to gain a heart from me.
Clytie.
And can you then so soon those vows forget,
Which Eccho scarce has left repeating yet?
Those vows—to me for ever fatal day,
When first they led my easy faith astray!
Which morns and eves have heard, thou base ingrate,
And promis'd love immortal as your state?
Phœbus traverses the stage, she following.
Think but how oft, unmindful of alarms,
You've lain encircled by those yielding arms,
Insatiate draining copious draughts of bliss,
And swearing heav'n was lodg'd in ev'ry kiss;
And then when cloy'd with the delicious feast,
And sunk unnerv'd on this still panting breast,
Think how, repeating the dear task, you've dy'd,
Yet cursed the day that forc'd you from my side.
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That once your beauties did my soul subdue,
I frankly told you, and I told you true.
I lov'd, enjoy'd, and from enjoyment bless'd,
Thought for a while my appetite encreas'd;
But grown with frequent iteration tir'd,
At length I nauseate what I first desir'd.
Clytie.
I see you nauseate, ev'n this moment see
Your eyes regard me with antipathy.
Nor think me stranger to the cause; I know
What brings you, Phoebus, to this secret plain,
For whom my gentle bondage you forego,
And treat my love with insults and disdain.
Phoebus.
Hah!
Clytie.
For Leucothöe. You start; that name
Has struck you. Oh! more false than syren's song,
Was it for this I sold myself to shame?
For this—
Phoebus.
Be wise in time, and stop your tongue,
Another word's destruction sure as hell.
Now hearken, and take care t'observe me well.
By that irrevocable oath I swear,
Which even gods themselves with trembling take,
By the eternal, gloomy Flood, if e'er
You breathe again what you've presum'd to speak
This instant, life shall expiate the offence.
Reply not; make no answer: get you hence.
Another word's destruction sure as hell.
Now hearken, and take care t'observe me well.
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Which even gods themselves with trembling take,
By the eternal, gloomy Flood, if e'er
You breathe again what you've presum'd to speak
This instant, life shall expiate the offence.
Reply not; make no answer: get you hence.
Oh where, too charming, cruel maid,
Unmindful dost thou rove?
Why is my bliss thus long delay'd?
Haste, haste thee quickly to my aid,
And tune my jarring soul to love.
Unmindful dost thou rove?
Why is my bliss thus long delay'd?
Haste, haste thee quickly to my aid,
And tune my jarring soul to love.
Clytie.
Confusion! madness! hell! or yet what's worse!
Oh give me breath sufficiently to curse
The world, myself—and all my feeble race.
What! boast your falsehood, own it to my face!
Go, tyrant, seek the idol you adore,
Clytie's weak claims shall trouble you no more:
Hence! stubborn weakness, hence!—O tender fool!
My heart yet fain would hold him, could it be:
But tutor'd by example, I shall cool,
And him disdain, as he has slighted me.
Oh give me breath sufficiently to curse
The world, myself—and all my feeble race.
What! boast your falsehood, own it to my face!
Go, tyrant, seek the idol you adore,
Clytie's weak claims shall trouble you no more:
Hence! stubborn weakness, hence!—O tender fool!
My heart yet fain would hold him, could it be:
But tutor'd by example, I shall cool,
And him disdain, as he has slighted me.
No more let love with golden shafts be drawn,
Or downy mantled wing;
But arm'd his hands,
With flaming brands,
And scorpion whips to sting,
The wretches by his fell distemper gnawn.
No more an infant heaven-design'd,
But a grim monster, fierce and blind,
The curse and scourge of human kind.
Or downy mantled wing;
But arm'd his hands,
With flaming brands,
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The wretches by his fell distemper gnawn.
No more an infant heaven-design'd,
But a grim monster, fierce and blind,
The curse and scourge of human kind.
| Leucothoe | |