 | Dione |  |
SCENE V.
LYCIDAS. DIONE. LAURA.Laura.
Recall thy scatter'd sense, bid reason wake,
Subdue thy passion.
Lycidas.
—Shall I never speak?
She's gone, she's gone—kind shepherd, let me rest
My troubled head upon thy friendly breast.
The forest seems to move,—O cursed state!
I doom'd to love, and she condemn'd to hate!
Tell me, Alexis, art thou still the same?
Did not her brighter eyes put out the flame
Of thy first love? did not thy flutt'ring heart,
Whene'er she rais'd her look, confess the dart?
Dione.
I own the nymph is fairest of her race,
Yet I unmov'd can on this beauty gaze,
Mindful of former promise; all that's dear,
My thoughts, my dreams; my ev'ry wish is there.
Since then our hopes are lost; let friendship's tye
Calm our distress, and slighted love supply;
Let us together drive our fleecy store,
And of ungrateful woman think no more.
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'Tis death alone can raze her from my breast.
Laura.
Why shines thy love so far above the rest?
Nature, 'tis true, in ev'ry outward grace,
Her nicest hand employ'd; her lovely face
With beauteous feature stampt; with rosy dyes
Warm'd her fair cheek; with lightning arm'd her eyes:
But if thou search the secrets of her mind,
Where shall thy cheated soul a virtue find?
Sure hell with cruelty her breast supply'd.
How did she glory when Menalcas dy'd!
Pride in her bosom reigns; she's false, she's vain;
She first entices, then insults the swain;
Shall fmale cunning lead thy heart astray?
Shepherd, be free; and scorn for scorn repay.
Lycidas.
How woman talks of woman!
Dione.
—Hence depart;
Let a long absence cure thy love-sick heart.
To some far grove retire, her sight disclaim,
Nor with her charms awake the dying flame.
Let not an hour thy happy flight suspend;
But go not, Lycidas, without thy friend.
Together let us seek the chearful plains,
And lead the dance among the sportive swains,
Devoid of care.
Laura.
—Or else the groves disdain,
Nor with the sylvan walk indulge thy pain.
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The courtly nymph her tresses binds with gold;
To captivate the youths; the youths appear
In fine array; in ringlets waves their hair
Rich with ambrosial scents, the fair to move,
And all the business of the day is love.
There from the gaudy train select a dame,
Her willing glance shall catch an equal flame.
Lycidas.
Name not the court.—The thought my soul confounds,
And with Dione's wrongs my bosom wounds.
Heav'n justly vindicates the faithful maid;
And now are all my broken vows repaid.
Perhaps she now laments my fancy'd death
With tears unfeign'd; and thinks my gasping breath
Sigh'd forth her name. O guilt, no more upbraid!
Yes. I fond innocence and truth betray'd.
[Aside.
[Dione and Laura apart.
Dione.
Hark! how reflection wakes his conscious heart.
From my pale lids the trickling sorrows start;
How shall my breast the swelling sighs confine!
Laura.
O smooth thy brow, conceal our just design:
Be yet a while unknown. If grief arise,
And force a passage through thy gushing eyes.
Quickly retire, thy sorrows to compose
Or with a look serene disguise thy woes.
[Dione is going out. Laura walks at a distance.
Lycidas.
Canst thou, Alexis, leave me thus distrest?
Where's now the boasted friendship of thy breast?
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In social herds o'er-spread the pastures fair,
When op'ning hounds the warmer scent pursue,
And force the destin'd victim from the crew,
Oft' he returns, and fain would join the band,
While all their horns the panting wretch withstand?
Such is thy friendship; thus might I confide.
Dione.
Why wilt thou censure what thou ne'er hast try'd?
Sooner shall swallows leave their callow brood,
Who with their plaintive chirpings cry for food;
Sooner shall hens expose their infant care,
When the spread kite sails wheeling in the air,
Than I forsake thee when by danger prest;
Wrong not by jealous fears a faithful breast.
Lycidas.
If thy fair-spoken tongue thy bosom shows,
There let the secrets of my soul repose.
Dione.
Far be suspicion; in my truth confide,
O let my heart thy load of cares divide!
Lycidas.
Know then, Alexis, that in vain I strove
To break her chain, and free my soul from love;
On the lim'd twig thus finches beat their wings,
Still more entangled in the clammy strings.
The slow-pac'd days have witness'd my despair,
Upon my weary couch sits wakeful care
Down my flush'd cheek the flowing sorrows run,
As dews descend to weep the absent sun.
O lost Parthenia!
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—These wild thoughts suspend;
And in thy kind commands instruct thy friend.
Lycidas.
Whene'er my faltring tongue would urge my cause,
Deaf is her ear, and sullen she withdraws.
Go then, Alexis, seek the scornful maid,
In tender eloquence my suff'rings plead;
Of slighted passion you the pangs have known;
O judge my secret anguish by your own!
Dione.
Had I the skill inconstant hearts to move,
My longing soul had never lost my love.
My feeble tongue, in these soft arts untry'd,
Can ill support the thunder of her pride;
When she shall bid me to thy bower repair,
How shall my trembling lips her threats declare!
How shall I tell thee, that she could behold,
With brow serene, thy corse all pale and cold
Beat on the dashing billow! shouldst thou go
Where the tall hill o'er-hangs the rocks below,
Near thee thy tyrant could unpitying stand,
Nor call thee back, nor stretch a saving hand.
Wilt thou then still persist to tempt thy fate,
To feed her pride and gratify her hate?
Lycidas.
Know, unexperienc'd youth, that woman's mind
Oft' shifts her passions, like the inconstant wind;
Sudden she rages, like the troubled main,
Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.
Watch the kind moment, then my wrongs impart,
And the soft tale shall glide into her heart.
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No. Let her wander in the lonely grove,
And never hear the tender voice of love.
Let her a while, neglected by the swain,
Pass by, nor sighs molest the chearful plain;
Thus shall the fury of her pride be laid;
Thus humble into love the haughty maid.
Lycidas.
Vain are attempts my passion to controul.
Is this the balm to cure my fainting soul?
Dione.
Deep then among the green wood shades I'll rove,
And seek with weary'd pace thy wander'd love;
Prostrate I'll fall, and with incessant prayers
Hang on her knees, and bathe her feet with tears;
If sighs of pity can her ear incline,
(O Lycidas, my life is wrapt in thine!)
[Aside.
I'll charge her from thy voice to hear the tale,
Thy voice more sweet than notes along the vale
Breath'd from the warbling pipe: the moving strain
Shall stay her flight, and conquer her disdain.
Yet if she hear; should love the message speed,
Then dies all hope;—then must Dione bleed.
[Aside.
Lycidas.
Haste then, dear faithful swain. Beneath those yews
Whose sable arms the brownest shade diffuse,
Where all around, to shun the fervent sky,
The panting flocks in ferny thickets lie;
There with impatience shall I wait my friend,
O'er the wide prospect frequent glances send
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A tender welcome, may thy love be kind!
[Ex. Lycidas.
| Dione | |