University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

GONDIBERT, BIRTHA, THULA,
Gondibert.
My Birtha! now for I will call Thee mine,
I long have sought Thee through these secret Shades,
Through every Walk and Grotto, to disclose
Our mutual Happiness. A Tide of Joy
Bears down my Soul: the Gods are most propitious:
Thy Father (O the Rapture turns my Brain!)
Blesses our Passion and confirms our Love.

Birtha.
Is it the Voice of Gondibert, or Heav'n?
For oh, thy Words are wing'd with heavenly Joys!
Pardon me, Modesty, and Virgin-Shame,
If here I clasp Him in my eager Arms,
If here my heaving Bosom grow to his,
If all my Wishes are dissolv'd in Love,
And Thought be happily destroy'd with Rapture.

Gondibert.
Let but To-morrow come, and I'll reward Thee,
For all this Flow of Tenderness and Love,
With Faith unequal'd, and unbounded Joys.

Thula.
Indeed, my Lord, She well deserves Affection,
Ev'n now She call'd you God, She doats upon you;
She lives but on your Sight, She bleeds with Tenderness,
And all her Soul o'erruns with Fondness to you.
I did but hint at Man's Inconstancy,
And Rage began to sparkle in her Eyes
For Doubting of Your Virtue: nay, She chid me.

Gondibert.
And did She, Thula, did the Charmer chide Thee?
O wond'rous Goodness! No, my Birtha, no;
When I prove false—but 'tis impossible;—
Ev'n were my Nature vile and giv'n to changing,
Thy Beauty, matchless Beauty might reclaim me,
Might fix me Thine, and thine alone for ever.
And when this rebel Heart forgets to love,
And beats with ought but Thee, may want o'ertake me,
Contempt and Ruin haunt me through the World,
And Guilt pursue me with a Whip of Scorpions.
I love Thee in my Nakedness of Soul,
Bare and unclouded with the Mask of Baseness.
I'll be so very jealous of my Heart,
That, shou'd another Woman enter in,
I'd stab Her there; and do my Birtha Justice.

Birtha.
Enough, my Lord, my Life, my Soul, my Husband!
For I will call you by that tender Name,
The Spring of chaste Delight and long Endearments.
And if the Gods be kind, I hope To-morrow,
O Transport! I may truly call you so.

Gondibert.
The Marriage-Robe To-morrow shall infold Thee
With purest White, the Emblem of thy Mind.
Then, like a Zephyr o'er a Field of Spices,
My Virgin-Bride, I'll whisper in thy Arms
The Breath of Ecstasy; I'll murmur round Thee,
Unfold thy Charms, and wanton in thy Sweetness.
O drowning Bliss! I dye upon the Thought,
I dye with Ravishment, and, oh, my Senses
Are hurried down the Flood of swelling Joy,
And swallow'd in the Ocean of thy Love.
—Let me repose me on thy fragrant Breast,
And lull me with the Musick of thy Voice,
O sweetly lull my Senses into Calmness!
For now my Spirits bound with wild Excess,
An Agony of Bliss! Oh Birtha, oh!—
Yet how on this soft Pillow of Delight,
How on this Bosom can I rest from Rapture?

Birtha.
My Gondibert! but Language all is poor.—
I'll answer you with Gazing, dart my Soul
In Glances on you, till they twist their Rays
With those kind Rays of yours, and melt together.

Gondibert.
Why, I cou'd gaze for ever on thy Beauties
And look away my Soul into thy Eyes:
Ev'n now it sickens, languishes to leave me,
And longs to rise upon their Beams to Heaven.
What art thou, Beauty? whence thy charmful Pow'r,
To swell the Passions thus, and fire the Blood,
With pleasing Madness, and delightful Fury?
Beauty's the sweet, unfading Rose of Love,
Which blooms diffusive on to endless Ages
From Stock to Stock, in amiable Progress;
And where it blooms creates eternal Spring.
Beauty's a Recompence for all the Woes,
A Counterpoise for all our Pains below.
Beauty's the Essence of divine Perfection,
A radiant Emanation of the Gods,
The Smile of Innocence, the Blush of Virtue,
The Light of Truth, the Harmony of Goodness,
The Flow of spotless Love, the Ray of Honour,
And, all in one, the very Soul of Woman!
Of Woman, lovely, wond'rous, sacred Sex,
The darling Masterpiece of smiling Nature,
The fair Epitome of all that's good,
The Wish of Wisdom, and the Joy of Sense,
At once the Honour and the Proof of Heav'n!

Thula.
My Lord, the Hour of Pray'r is now at hand,
And Astragon will wait.—They heed me not.
—My Lord the Hour of Pray'r—

Gondibert starting from his Rapture.
[Gondibert.]
'Tis well observ'd.
Yes, gracious Pow'r, we'll fly unto thy Altars
With holy Fervour, and o'erflowing Hearts.
To Thee we owe our Being; all the Good
Which show'rs in dewy Plenty on Mankind,
Riches, and Ease, and Honours flow from Thee.
And, oh, Thou Fount of Life, to Thee I owe
This Treasure of my Soul, my Birtha's Beauties.
Still may thy Blessings thus descend upon us,
Of Virtue, Peace, of Piety, Delight;
And still be thus propitious to our Love.

[Exeunt Gondibert and Birtha.
Thula.
Ha! Ulfinore—I'll steal into this Bow'r.

[Thula retires.