 | Dione |  |
SCENE I.
LYCIDAS. PARTHENIA asleep in a bower.Lycidas.
May no rude wind the rustling branches move;
Breathe soft, ye silent gales, nor wake my love.
Ye shepherds, piping homeward on the way,
Let not the distant echoes learn your lay;
Strain not, ye nightingales, your warbling throat,
May no loud shake prolong the shriller note,
Lest she awake; O sleep, secure her eyes,
That I may gaze; for if she wake, she flies.
While easy dreams compose her peaceful soul,
What anxious cares within my bosom roll!
If tir'd with sighs beneath the beech I lye,
And languid slumber close my weeping eye,
Her lovely vision rises to my view,
Swift flies the nymph, and swift would I pursue;
I strive to call; my tongue has lost the sound;
Like rooted oaks, my feet benumb'd are bound;
Struggling I wake. Again my sorrows flow,
And not one flatt'ring dream deludes my woe.
What innocence! how meek is ev'ry grace!
How sweet the smile that dimples on her face,
Calm as the sleeping seas! but should my sighs
Too rudely breathe, what angry storms would rise!
Though the fair rose with beauteous blush is crown'd,
Beneath her fragrant leaves the thorn is found;
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Deep at the heart the cank'ring worm consumes;
'Tis thus, alas! those lovely features hide
Disdain and anger and resentful pride.
| Dione | |