Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses :: :: University of Virginia Library

The PASTORAL Interlude.

Syl.
‘Why have my dearest Friends this Grotto chose
‘Where the Pale Yew, and pensive Poplar grows?
Why do Ye thus sit sighing, and alone,
And to the Woods, and Mountains make your Moan?
‘Can any Sorrow your sad Hearts possess,
‘Which Sylvia will not pity, or redress?
(Turns to Damon.)
O! Vent the Galling Secrets of Your Heart,
And to Your Faithful Friends, Your Pains impart!
Whose Sympathizing Sighs may ease Your Soul,
And Tears in Consort all Your Tears condole.

Damon.
‘Oh! that We ne're had liv'd to see the Day,
‘When first we sold our Flocks, and flung our Crooks away!
‘Before, how happy in Our Rural Bow'rs,
‘In Mirth and Play We spent Our harmless Hours!

‘How oft have We, within Our Calm Retreat,
‘(Whilst on each Side We heard Our Lambkins bleat)
‘Smil'd at the Troubles that attend the Great!
‘But yet (We know not how) Ambition fir'd
‘Our Souls, and Hopes of Gain Our Thoughts inspir'd.
‘For These We from Those Sacred Plains withdrew,
‘Bid all Our Cheerful Fellow Swains adieu,
‘And to the Busy World in Haste We flew.

Menal.
‘Soon as We sold our Flocks We bought a Ship,
‘Which plow'd, in hopes of Gain, the dang'rous Deep,
‘And to Our Wishes shun'd the Tempests Roar,
‘The Rugged Rocks, and Pyrates lawless Pow'r.
‘Propitious Heav'n, regardful of Our Pray'rs,
‘Our Goods from Loss secur'd, Our Minds from Fears,
‘And with Unenvy'd Wealth rewarded all Our Cares.
‘But, Oh! Dear Sylvia, Sure Our Cruel Fate
‘Rais'd high Our Joys to make Our Pains more Great!
‘She brought indeed a Glorious Scene to View,
‘But to Our Torment soon that Scene withdrew.
So from his Window the poor Prisoner spies
A pleasant Plain, and feasts his greedy Eyes:
But when he turns, and hears his ratling Chain,
The Prospect serves but to encrease his Pain.

Syl.
‘Why, dear Menalcas, would'st Thou tempt thy Fate,
‘And hazard Greatness to be yet more Great?
When Fortune had so far propitious been,
Why didst Thou not come back to Us again?—
Thou should'st have rul'd Sole Monarch of our Plain.
‘But Thou, by blind Ambition hurry'd on,
‘Wast resolutely bent, like Phaeton,
‘To drive the Chariot of the Day, or None.

Damon.
‘Had We to Wealth Virtue's bright Precepts join'd,
‘And with strong Reason fenc'd Our feeble Minds,
‘We needn't now Our Tragick Story tell,
‘Nor mourn the Fatal Frauds by which We fell.

Men.
‘Near to the Royal Bourse a Dome there lies,
‘Where Knaves grow insolent by Gain, and Fools by Loss grow wise.
On every Side are soft Enchantments seen,
But Scylla and Carybdis lurk within:
Yet such bewitching Charms delude the Eye,
That Few ('till 'tis too late) their Danger see.
Thus the Unwary Traveller disdains
The Common Road, and seeks the flow'ry Plains,
Thinking the Pleasure will reward his Pains:
But to his Cost he finds with much Surprize,
That in the Verdant Grass the Poisonous Adder lies.
A Fourfold Path directs the Motly Throng,
Made up of every Nation, every Tongue:
Thro' which with Eager Haste they thither run,
Some to Undo, but more to be Undone.
‘To this Vile Spot a subtil, wily Crew
‘Our heedless Steps by strong Enticements drew.

Amar.
‘Tell us, Menalcas, how their Snares they laid,
‘What Arts they us'd your Senses to invade,
‘And how your Soul was such a Captive made.

Men.
‘The Musick of their false, deluding Tongues
‘Was soft, and fatal as the Syrens Songs.

‘With Heaps of Promis'd Gold they first essay'd,
‘And brib'd our weaker Passions to their Aid.
These gain'd, with Ease our Reason they controul'd,
And soon prevail'd our inmost Thoughts t'unfold.
Then Secrets deep with Freedom they disclos'd,
And with Assur'd Success each New Design propos'd.

Amar.
‘Cou'd you by specious Words alone be caught,
‘And taken in a Net so slightly wrought?
‘The Bitter Pill is always gilded o're;
‘With Ease, methinks, you might such Frauds explore.

Dam.
‘With strong Deceit their Artful Plots they form'd,
‘And Magick Scenes of Wealth their Dark Intrigues adorn'd;
But when these fail, as fail they sometimes will,
And you begin to dread th'Approaching Ill;
A Thousand Guileful Tales they strait contrive,
To make the Dying Hope in Expectation live.
‘Thus charm'd from Virtue's peaceful Paths we stray'd,
‘And to recountless Ills our thoughtless Souls betray'd.

Amar.
‘Cease your Complaints, your Sighs and Tears give o're;
‘If you'll resolve to lead that Life no more,
‘We will your Stock of Sheep and Goats renew,
‘That You may bid the Busy Faithless, World Adieu.

The PASTORAL ended, they join in a Figure Dance to the South-Sea Tune. The Dance over, Amaryllis speaks—

N. B. For the Ease of the Little Ladies Memories, the Lines only thus marked (') where spoken in the Performance.

Jonathan's Coffee-House.

Exchange Alley.