University of Virginia Library

THE MONUMENT IN ARCADIA:

A DRAMATIC POEM, IN TWO ACTS.

Persons of the Drama.

• DORASTUS, a rich Shepherd, living as a Hermit.
• LYSANDER, a young Spartan, Lover of Euphemia.
• MUSIDORUS, an Arcadian Shepherd.
• EUPHEMIA, betrothed to Lysander.
• DELIA, Friend to Euphemia.
• DAPHNE, Daughter of Musidorus.
• LAURA, Daughter of Musidorus.
• ARCADIANS.

Scene, ARCADIA.

ACT I.

SCENE—A beautiful Prospect of Arcadia; Shepherds Dwellings dispersed at a Distance, and a Wood on one Side.
Enter LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA, and DELIA.
LYSANDER.
Thanks to the Gods! our cheerful Steps at last
Have reach'd these happy Climes; where refug'd Virtue,
'Midst laughing Vales, o'er-arch'd by cloudless Skies,
Enjoys a calm Retreat. And now, lov'd Maid!
Whom I have follow'd, and would follow still
To Earth's remotest Bounds; 'tis Time to claim
That bright Reward, which, before Delia here,
Your lov'd Companion Delia, you have sworn,
Soon as my Voice had welcom'd your Arrival,
Should crown my willing Service.

EUPHEMIA.
Gen'rous Youth!
Whose fond Compliance with a Maid's Request
Has led you far from home; the Boon you ask
Will poorly pay your Virtues; take my Hand,
And know I give it but to pledge a Heart
By ev'ry Title yours.

DELIA.
Unshaken, long
Remain this Union!—Now! Euphemia, now
Behold your Hopes accomplish'd!—Breathe we not
A purer Air? And does not this bright Scene,
Which opens round us, realize the Truth
Of all Aranthe said?

EUPHEMIA.
It does, it does;
Peace to her Shade! And, Delia, we shall bless
The friendly Path we trod; though scarcely yet
Lysander knows why I so long forbore
To crown his Love, and in this distant Clime
Would only wed.

LYSANDER.
It was enough for me
To know your Wish; contented to be blest
On your own Terms. But oft I've heard you say,
Your dying Mother, poor Aranthe! left
These Counsels in your ear, with that sad Sigh
Which never more is heard.

EUPHEMIA.
Her Care alone
Rear'd me to what I am; yet I ne'er knew
A Parent's Fondness. She was of Arcadia;
And when the Spartan Arms, with fierce descent,
Sought these defenceless Shades, was forc'd away
With other Captives. Then, all pale with Tears,
Lest Violence should seize what Choice deny'd,
She gave the Plund'rer, what he ask'd, her Hand,
And yielded to his Wish.—Vows thus constrain'd
Ne'er draw down Blessings. Fifteen tedious Years
She felt a lordly Husband's rigid Sway;
Till Fate dissolv'd her Bondage, and restor'd
Her Liberty.

LYSANDER.
Euphemia, you relate
What moves my Wonder; for till now, I deem'd
You were Aranthe's Child.

EUPHEMIA.
I thought so too:
But mark the Sequel.—Freedom came too late:
Worn by Dissimulation's irksome Task
For Years repeated, slow-consuming Care
Subdu'd at last her Frame. Arcadia's Vales
She now no more could visit; that fond Hope
Through long Captivity sustain'd the Soul,
Which sunk to find it lost.

LYSANDER.
Not long the Mourner
Surviv'd her Husband?

EUPHEMIA.
Scarcely half the Space
Of ten sad Moons. The Lamp of Life each Day
Burnt fainter; and a sudden Stroke its Light
Almost extinguishing, she call'd me to her,
And bade me bring the Friend whom most I lov'd,
My Delia, with me. To our Ears she then,
By interrupted Words with Pain brought forth,
Unlock'd her Heart;—Told me, a Mother's Name
Was but assum'd, that He whom she espous'd
Might treat me gently;—That my infant Years
Were to her Care confided;—That her All
She had bequeath'd me;—And her dying Wish
Was, that when Time should favor the Intent,
I'd seek Arcadia.—“If, my Child!” she cry'd,
“Thy Lot be Happiness, 'twill meet thee there;
“Be Hope thy Guide: The righteous Gods, perhaps,
“May there restore”—But what—was all conceal'd;
For Death that instant seiz'd her Pow'rs of Speech,
And left me lost in Darkness and Distress.

DELIA.
Nor till her Spirit fled, ceas'd she to fix,
Though Utt'rance was deny'd, on my fair Friend
Looks forcible as Language.—We have search'd,
Where'er Conjecture wings its dubious Flight,
To trace her Meaning, or descry from whence
Euphemia drew her Birth; but ev'ry Path
Perplex'd and tangled, still in Darkness ends.

LYSANDER.
Some Cause forbade, or she had ne'er so long
Conceal'd the Story, which her parting Breath
Could not enough disclose. But say, my Love,
Did not Aranthe oft' at other Times
Discourse the Beauties of her native Land,
The more to tempt you to this Pilgrimage?

EUPHEMIA.
Oh, frequent! frequent! It was oft' her Subject,
And she would tell such Wonders of Arcadia,
So boast its joyous Skies, where Love, where Truth,
And fair Simplicity reign'd undisturb'd,
That all entranc'd I heard her, and my Soul
Dwelt on her Story, till it pin'd to see
These Heav'n-distinguish'd Regions.—To myself,
In secret, then I vow'd, that I would ne'er
But in Arcadia wed.—It was for this
Arcadia was so oft my Theme, when first
You grac'd me with your Notice; 'twas for this
I hither led you; and at some near Shrine
My Vow shall be confirm'd.

LYSANDER.
Blest be the Night,
When forth I led you from detested Sparta,
Ne'er to behold it more! Detested Sparta!
Where the firm Virtue of our rigid Fathers,
Which nerv'd their Arm, and gave th'admiring World
A Line of Heroes, is debas'd by Vice,
Or crush'd by pow'rful Faction.—To forget
The Cloud that shades my Country, be my Task;
Since thence I've borne a Prize, in whom I view
The Graces of the purest Times.

EUPHEMIA.
No more!
Already you o'erpay me.

LYSANDER.
Bounteous Maid!
My Tongue would beggar Language, should it speak
The Transport I now feel to call Thee mine,
And to enfold Thee thus.—Whatever Joys
This Clime shall offer, they can nothing add
To mine, possessing Thee.

DELIA.
Behold! a Troop
Of Swains advancing! Haply, we from them
May gain all due Intelligence.

LYSANDER.
Yet hold!
They seem assembled on some Ceremony;
'Twere best at Distance mark them;—For a while
Let us withdraw beneath these bow'ring Shades.

[They retire into the Wood.
Enter—MUSIDORUS, DAPHNE, LAURA, and a Number of Arcadian Shepherds and Shepherdesses, bearing in their Hands Garlands of Flowers.
They advance, singing.
CHORUS.
Give the Hour to sober Pleasures;
Cheerful Hearts are Life's best Treasures:
Let the choral Song go round;
Echo shall our Joys resound.

MUSIDORUS.
Onward, Arcadians! bear your flow'ry Wreaths,
Twin'd with the fairest Sweets of ev'ry Kind
That scent the Ev'ning Air, and with them deck
The sacred Pines of Pan; while the deep Grove
Tells to the distant Hills our festive Rites.—
'Tis wisely done to make the most of Life:
Whilst Temp'rance sits the Guardian of our Sports,
Each grateful Smile that dimples o'er the Cheek
Is Tribute paid the Gods!

FIRST ARCADIAN.
Let such as tread
The busy Haunts of Men, where Envy shoots
Its poison'd Arrows, wear their Brow o'ercast;
Our Vales are only Witnesses of Joy,
And Mirth well-authoriz'd; Our fertile Soil
A happier Sun-shine warms; and the press'd Grape,
Pouring from Goblets deep its purple Stream,
Drives off imagin'd Ills, and the cheer'd Mind
Attunes to Harmony.

AIR.

LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA, and DELIA, appear from the Wood.
LYSANDER.
Forgive us, Shepherds,
If we as Strangers peradventure press
Somewhat abruptly on you. Wide is spread
The Fame of your fair Clime; and it hath hither
Allur'd our Steps, inquisitive to learn
That true Simplicity which marks your Lives,
And makes them deem'd so happy.

MUSIDORUS.
You are welcome
To these pacific Shades, and doubly so
As being Strangers: But if chance you come
From Scenes of artful Life, where Pomp displays
Its splendid Fallacies, ours scarce will charm.—
Yet here Content resides, and rural Ease;
With ev'ry Blessing which the bounteous Pan
Bestows on virtuous Toils.

LYSANDER.
Deem not that we
So ill have read the World, that our fool'd Sense
Is caught by Pageantry.—Nought charms so much
As the bright Lustre of an upright Mind,
Active, and steady.—And in lonely Vales,
And Roofs unnotic'd, oft' such Virtues dwell
As Courts with Pride might boast; though all unseen
Their Graces bloom, save by a circling few,
And Heav'n's approving Eye.

FIRST ARCADIAN.
Your Reas'ning, Youth,
Bespeaks a Mind well tutor'd; and your Chance
Hath thrown you amongst Men, who know to prize
The Heart that points to Virtue.—Freely share
Whate'er these Plains afford. Say, will you join
Our festive Rites? Or, rather, do you seek
Rest and Refreshment?—Long perchance hath been
Your Way; and these your fair Companions tire.

LYSANDER.
True—long hath been our Way; but we have made it
Pleasure, not Toil.—You shall at Leisure know
Whate'er in the small Circle of our Lives
May win your Ear. Suffice it now to say
What beyond Rest, beyond your proffer'd Care,
Sits nearest at my Heart, is, that you guide
Our Steps, to where before some hallow'd Shrine,
This beauteous Maid and I may swear till Death
A lasting Union.—Long, too long, my Bliss
Hath been delay'd; and tedious seems to creep
Each lazy Minute now, till I can boast
Alliance with her Virtues.

MUSIDORUS.
Such a Place
Stands in the Covert of yon Wood; be mine
The Task to lead you thither.—Leagues of Love,
Approv'd by Virtue, from their starry Thrones
The Gods behold well pleas'd!—Go you before,
My Daughters, and with virgin Hands adorn
The nuptial Altar.—Shepherds, you'll pursue
Your purpos'd Sports: we shall at Eve rejoin.

[Exeunt Daphne and Laura.
LYSANDER.
Here, my Euphemia, our long Voyage ends,
Safe in the wish'd-for Port we ride in Peace,
Anchor'd by Love and Friendship.—Gen'rous Swain!
Your hospitable Kindness asks more Praise
Than my poor Tongue can give; a Time may come
When I may better speak it.

MUSIDORUS.
Nay! no more;
I act but as I ought.—Benevolence
Is due from Man, to Man!—Come, Lady, on;
The Altar now attends your maiden Vows;
Be thrifty of the Hour, the Day wears fast.

[Exeunt Musidorus, Lysander, Euphemia, and Delia.
FIRST ARCADIAN.
Now with light Foot to sportive Measures beat,
Strike ev'ry sprightly Note, that ere we join
In yonder hallow'd Grove, we to the Dance
May add new Graces, and avow our Zeal.

A DANCE of Arcadians.
After the Dance, the Chorus repeated.
Give the Hour to sober Pleasures;
Cheerful Hearts are Life's best Treasures:
Let the choral Song go round;
Echo shall our Joys resound.
[Exeunt.
SCENE—A wild rocky Entrance to a Cave; on one Side of which is seen a Wood.
DORASTUS enters from the Cave. After looking attentively around, he comes slowly forward.
[Exit.

ACT II.

A RURAL SCENE.
Enter LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA, DELIA, MUSIDORUS, DAPHNE, and LAURA.
As they are all advancing from the End of the Stage, DAPHNE and LAURA sing the following
LYSANDER.
Thanks, courteous Fair-ones, Thanks; I little hop'd
Such Bride-maids for my Love; but you are all
As bounteous as your Skies; and your kind Care
Shall bind us both your Debtors.—You, good Shepherd,
Who with your Daughters at the Shrine of Pan
Have witness'd to our Vows, shall see, I trust,
That they were seal'd with Truth, and only join'd
Hearts of congenial Mould.

MUSIDORUS.
May circling Years
Still firmer bind them! and the Hand of Death
Alone dissolve this Union!

EUPHEMIA.
Heav'n so grant!—
Most freely, Shepherd, I accept your Grace,
And proffer'd Services; wrapt in Delight
To meet already in this stranger Land
Such hospitable Smiles.

DAPHNE.
Nor here is seen
A Smile the Heart avows not; our plain Life
Disdains those Arts and Falshoods, which they say
Are practis'd by the Great-ones of the World.—
Ambition walks not here; nor is here known
Envy, its fell Associate.—Rural Cares
Employ the fleeting Day, and one firm Chain
Of social Harmony unites us all.—
Our temp'rate Board gives Cheerfulness and Health;
And there Contentment sits, and bids us scorn
What cheated Man calls Luxury.

LAURA.
Nor yet
Shall our calm Plains abuse your Hopes; the Eye
As well as Mind is solac'd.—Nature blooms
In youthful Beauty round us, from her Urn
Scatt'ring unnumber'd Treasures. Mark how glows
The vivid Landscape; and the burthen'd Earth
Pants with the gay Profusion.

EUPHEMIA.
A new World
Springs up before me. See, Lysander, see
What vary'd Sweets shall strew our future Paths
Beneath this better Sun.

LYSANDER.
Rooted I stand,
And lost in Admiration thank the Gods
For all their Bounty to me; chief for Thee
Their noblest Boon, thou Crown of my Desires!
Thou lovely Charmer!—O my Friends, excuse
A young Man's Transport; when you better know
This Maiden's Excellence, you will confess
My Tongue no Flatt'rer—for she wears a Heart
So pure, so spotless, that it might be shrin'd
In Crystal, and have all its Movements scann'd!

MUSIDORUS.
My Bosom shares your Transport—Gentle Lady,
Beneath the Umbrage of yon tufted Trees,
Which shade the Margin of the azure Stream
That steals along its Side, our Dwelling stands,
Rustic and simple; thick around it shoots
The flaunting Woodbine; and each fragrant Flow'r
Adorns the verdant Scene.—There I've prepar'd
A cheerful Welcome;—All our rural Sports
My Daughters shall relate, and teach you too,
If so you like, to tend our fleecy Folds;
For all are Shepherds here.

EUPHEMIA.
Something but now,
As o'er the Lawn we pass'd, Laura discours'd
Of a grey Hermit, whose religious Life
Gain'd him such Love, that each Arcadian deem'd
His Blessing prosp'rous; fain on this Day's Act
Would I implore it.

MUSIDORUS.
Lady, he you mean
Dwells at the mossy Foot of yonder Rock,
The good Dorastus; Shepherd once himself,
And Master still of many a Flock; but he,
Long from our Plains sequester'd, mourns retir'd
A Loss that weighs his grey Hairs down.—All here
View him with filial Love; for he's to all
A Friend, a Father.—Thither I'll conduct you
As homeward now we pass.

LYSANDER.
We will attend;
Yet tarry but a Space, while from those Trees
Of clust'ring Roses, that invite the Touch,
I pluck some crimson Buds, and twist a Wreath
For my Euphemia's Brow; she has not yet
Receiv'd her bridal Garland.

[Exit.
EUPHEMIA.
On this Bank
Await we his Return. Sit, my fair Maids;
And, Delia, calm the Flutt'rings of my Heart
By some soft Strain.—Give me that cheering Song
Aranthe so much lov'd.

DELIA.

EUPHEMIA.
Kind Delia, take my Thanks.—I feel the Truth
Thy Strain inspires; for see Lysander comes,
Who round the little Region of my Heart
Bids Hope triumphant live.

LYSANDER re-enters, with a Chaplet of Roses in his Hand.
LYSANDER.
Euphemia, wear
This blooming Wreath, in Honor of the Day,
And as an Emblem of our twin'd Affections.— [Presents her the Chaplet.

This hath a transient Date, but they, I trust,
Shall never know Decay.—Now let us speed
To seek the Hermit's Cave; good Shepherd, on.

[Exeunt.
The Scene opening discovers a Wood. In the Middle of the Stage is a Monument, with the Statue of a Nymph lying on it. Upon its Base appears this Inscription, in large Characters, I TOO WAS AN ARCADIAN. DORASTUS is seen standing near the Tomb, with a Basket of Flowers in his Hand, singing the following
Enter MUSIDORUS, LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA, DELIA, DAPHNE, and LAURA.
MUSIDORUS.
Behold the good old Man!—On the still Air
How sweetly floats his plaintive Voice!—Beside
This Wood he dwells, and here at setting Sun
Sings his accustom'd Dirge, as Mem'ry drops
A Sigh o'er happier Scenes that Time hath clos'd.

LYSANDER.
Say, what yon Pile which he bestrews with Flow'rs?
It seems a Tomb, and that fair sculptur'd Form
Declares it such; as does the Epitaph,
“I too was an Arcadian.”

MUSIDORUS.
He bewails
A Daughter torn away, on whom he built
The Comfort of his Age; it is for her
This mournful Pile is rear'd, these Rites perform'd.—
But soft!—A Moment ends them; let us not
Invade his Privacy.

[They keep retired on one Side of the Stage.
DORASTUS continues the Air, strewing the Flowers round the Tomb.
During the Song, Lysander discourses with Musidorus; —Euphemia, with Daphne and Laura. She often fixes her Eyes on the Monument, with Marks of Emotion. The Song ended, they advance.
MUSIDORUS.
Good Ev'n, Dorastus,
And heard be all thy Orisons!—Behold
I bring with me a Pair, who even now
At yonder consecrated Altar seal'd
The Bond of wedded Faith.—Far is their Home,
Beyond the Southern Mountains; but Desire
To visit these our Plains hath urg'd their Steps
Hither, to sojourn with us.—Lo! they sue
Your Grace and Welcome; and will prove, I judge,
Worthy your Courtesy.—Their bridal Bed
My Daughters have prepar'd; and I myself
Shall be their this Night's Host; a secret Impulse
Hath won me to their Service.

LYSANDER.
Strangers here,
Each Mark of Hospitality must charm;
And sooth to say, this our kind Patron's Care
Hath far outstrip'd my Hope.—Might we obtain
Thy Pray'rs, respected Hermit, nothing then
Remains to crown our Fortune.

DORASTUS.
If the Blessing
Of an old Man by many a Sorrow worn,
And bow'd by many a Year, can aught avail,
O take it, freely take it.—May the Act
Of this fair Day be prosper'd! may a Length
Of Happiness be yours! a virtuous Race
To both endear the World! and all your Paths,
Your Ev'ning Paths of Life, be spread with Flow'rs
That never grew in mine!

LYSANDER.
As he turns to Euphemia, he finds her looking towards the Tomb with a melancholy Attention.

EUPHEMIA.
The Cause is in myself;
O my Lysander! I have fool'd my Sense
With visionary Hope, and now awake
To meet my Error.

LYSANDER.
Nay! explain, Euphemia.

EUPHEMIA.
This good Man's Sigh has op'd my Eyes; this Scene
Of Death has undeceiv'd me.—Blind to think
That there was any Ground, where Mortals tread,
On which Affliction walks not!—Ev'ry Clime
Engenders human Woe; and fam'd Arcadia
Is pregnant with the same disastrous Fortune
That other Regions know.

DORASTUS.
Our Life, fair Lady,
Must needs be chequer'd thus.

LYSANDER.
Alas! my Love,
Let us enjoy the Good, nor with vain Search
Anticipate Misfortune; come it will,
Though Wisdom stand as Guard; and e'en these Shade.
Must sometimes own its Pow'r.

EUPHEMIA.
Mistaken Maid!
Is this the Land where Pleasure only reign'd?
Was it for this I pac'd so long a Way?
Abandon'd Sparta? and so far allur'd
Thy wand'ring Steps, Lysander, here to meet
The Face of Sorrow?—Where is that Content
Aranthe boasted? Where that Peace, she said
Should greet our Coming?—Ah! could she delude
That Hope she so long nourish'd?

DORASTUS.
Heard I aright?
Or did false Sounds abuse me?—Spake you not
Of Sparta, and Aranthe, courteous Lady?
Pray you say on; for to my Ear you utter'd
A Name well known.—Aranthe! knew you her?
And lives she yet?

LYSANDER.
Ah no! she is no more!
With pious Hand these Maidens clos'd her Eyes,
Bathing her Corse with Tears.

EUPHEMIA.
In her I lost
The best of Women, whose indulgent Care
No Time shall wear away.—Her latest Wish
Was I should seek Arcadia, where herself
Had sometime known a happier Destiny
Than Sparta's Walls afforded.

DORASTUS.
You are then
Her daughter, doubtless; you perhaps have oft
Heard her relate—

EUPHEMIA.
Good Hermit, you mistake;
I am no Child of her's, though many a Year
Such I was deem'd, till her last Breath unveil'd
The Error, and declar'd I was a Pledge
Intrusted to her Care in infant Years,
By whom was unexplain'd, for Death's cold Grasp
Broke off th'unfinish'd Tale,—and I had walk'd
The World, a friendless Orphan, and alone,
But for this virtuous Youth, to whom I've giv'n
That Love his Merit claim'd.—But why on me
Is cast that Look of Eagerness?—Why heaves
Thy lab'ring Bosom thus?—or whence those Tears
That tremble in thine Eye?

DORASTUS.
O Nature!—Nature!
Who with thy pow'rful, and invisible Hand
Shak'st my whole Frame with Tumult,—can I think
This Conflict, these Forebodings of a Father
Are rais'd, or felt in vain?—The Stroke's too great!
Pray you your Arm a Moment.—Yes—it must—
Those Features wear the radiant Hue of Truth!—
There cannot be Deceit.—It is—It is
My long-lost Child restor'd.—

EUPHEMIA.
All-ruling Gods!
Have ye upheld me through the Maze of Life
Unknowing, and unknown, in this far Land
To guide me to a Parent?

LYSANDER.
All's explain'd;
This was Aranthe's Meaning, this the Cause
She urg'd so strong your Coming, hoping still
Some Chance might bring about this blest Event
Th'indulgent Gods have prosper'd.

DORASTUS.
Gen'rous Youth!
Whose Graces have endear'd thee to my Child,
Whose Truth and Friendship won her, let my Arms
Embrace thee as a Son.—A Father's Blessing,
Pour'd from a Heart with Gratitude o'ercome,
Shall now enforce the rest.—Alas! too quick
My Spirits bound!—Prithee resolve my Mind
A few fond Questions more.

[They withdraw to the Bottom of the Stage.
MUSIDORUS.
See, my Children,
The Virtuous still are happy!—This is she
So long reputed dead, for whom was rear'd
The Statue, and the Tomb; for whom these Shades
So oft' have echo'd with a Father's Sighs;
Sighs now repaid with Transports!

LAURA.
Nor in vain
Have we intwin'd the festive Wreath. This Night
Shall social Pleasure beam from ev'ry Eye,
And Sounds of Joy be heard along the Vale.

DAPHNE.
See where, returning from the hallow'd Grove,
The Shepherds cross the Plain. I'll be myself
Of this Event the Harbinger; 'twill prove
Most welcome to them all.

[Exit.
DORASTUS, LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA, and DELIA, come forward.
DORASTUS.
Enough, enough;
My stormy Life at last sinks to a Calm.
Come Death now when it will, I'll meet it smiling,
Upheld by this lov'd Pair.

LYSANDER.
Long live to see
Our mutual happiness! and be repaid,
In the bright Virtues of your new-found Daughter,
The Suff'rings you've endur'd!

DORASTUS.
Great Providence!
How just are all thy Ways!—Never let Man,
Howe'er he be distress'd, abandon Hope;
For in the Moment when the Cloud is blackest,
When the big Storm rolls loudest o'er his Head,
The Hand of Heav'n perhaps supports his Steps,
And guides him back to Peace!—'Twas but this Morn,
Stung with Remembrance of my former Woes,
I curs'd the Sons of Sparta; ere Day close
A Spartan Hand leads back the Child I lost,
And quite atones the Wrongs his Country did me!

EUPHEMIA.
Justly I stand reprov'd.—Henceforth I'll own
Each Murmur is a Crime, and Discontent
Ingratitude to Heav'n.

DORASTUS.
Forbear to think
This Earth can teem Perfection; Far beyond
Those azure Rocks, that kiss the sloping Sky,
A happier Region lies, to which compar'd
Our Spot, is as the dank and tainted Gale
To th'unsully'd Breath of Morning.—There the Toils
Of lab'ring Virtue cease! and thither oft'
She turns her patient Eye, and seeks her Crown!—
'Tis there, Euphemia, and 'tis there alone
Perfection may be hop'd; on this Side, all
Is mutable and frail!

EUPHEMIA.
Yet 'tis not strange
The Mind that's tutor'd to expect too much
Should sigh at Disappointment.

DORASTUS.
That, my Child,
Is Life's grand Error;—We delude ourselves,
And charge the Cheats of Fancy to the World.—
Man in his visionary Hour conceives
Joys never destin'd for him, then sits down
In sullen Discontent, to think he loses
That which he ne'er possess'd.—Go, wiser you
My Children, curb your Wishes, taste with Thanks
That Good the Gods allot you; and remember,
Howe'er our Paths are chequer'd by Misfortune,
Life still has many Pleasures for the Virtuous.

MUSIDORUS.
The neighb'ring Swains, whom Delia has inform'd
Of what has chanc'd, with Looks of Transport haste
To greet your happier Fortune.

A Number of Arcadians enter with Daphne, and surround Dorastus with Marks of Congratulation.
DORASTUS.
Ah! how sweet
Their Steps who speak of Peace!—I have, my Friends,
A Heart that reads your Purpose in your Eye,
And registers your Love—A Heart, the Gods
Have quite o'erwhelm'd with Mercy!—Thanks to all
Who share with me this Joy; and double Thanks
To thee, kind Musidorus, whom this Night
We all will sojourn with, and cheer the Board
Thy lib'ral Hand has spread.—Rich Flocks, and Herds,
And wide-spread Pastures, shall be giv'n to-morrow
In Dowry with this Maid.—You, Delia, too
Shall now become my Care.—Let us away,
The Ev'ning Star is ris'n,—and as we pass
Let all our choral Youth their Voices join
In Notes that deep-felt Gratitude inspires.

CHORUS.
Mighty Pan! to Thee we owe
All the Happiness we know;—
Let our Lives still peaceful glide;
Give us Virtue for our Guide.

[Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.