The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed: And Those which he Design'd for the Press, Now Published out of the Authors Original Copies ... The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
|
|
|
|
| 1. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
 | The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley |  |
7
CONSTANTIA AND PHILETUS.
1
I sing two constant Lovers various fate,The hopes, and feares which equally attend
Their loves: Their rivals envie, Parents hate;
I sing their sorrowfull life, and tragicke end.
Assist me this sad story to rehearse
You Gods, and be propitious to my verse.
2
In Florence, for her stately buildings fam'd,And lofty roofes that emulate the skie;
There dwelt a lovely Mayd Constantia nam'd
Renown'd, as mirrour of all Italy.
Her lavish nature did at first adorne,
With Pallas soule in Cytherea's forme.
3
And framing her attractive eyes so bright,Spent all her wit in studie, that they might
Keepe th'earth from Chaos, and eternall night;
But envious Death destroy'd their glorious light.
Expect not beauty then, since shee did part;
For in her Nature wasted all her Art.
4
Her hayre was brighter then the beams which areA Crowne to Phœbus, and her breath so sweet,
It did transcend Arabian odours farre,
Or th'smelling Flowers, wherewith the Spring doth greet
Approaching Summer, teeth like falling snow
For white, were placed in a double row.
8
5
Her wit excell'd all praise, all admiration,And speech was so attractive it might be
A meanes to cause great Pallas indignation,
And raise an envie from that Deity.
The mayden Lillyes at her lovely sight
Waxt pale with envie, and from thence grew white.
6
She was in birth and parentage as highAs in her fortune great, or beauty rare,
And to her vertuous mindes nobility
The gifts of Fate and Nature doubled were;
That in her spotlesse Soule, and lovely Face
Thou might'st have seene each Deity and grace.
7
The scornefull Boy Adonis viewing herWould Venus still despise, yet her desire,
Each who but saw, was a Competitor
And rivall, scorcht alike with Cupid's fire.
The glorious beames of her fayre Eyes did move,
And light beholders on their way to Love.
8
Amongst her many Sutors a young KnightBove others wounded with the Majesty
Of her faire presence, presseth most in sight;
Yet seldome his desire can satisfie
With that blest object, or her rarenesse see;
For Beauties guard, is watchfull Jealousie.
9
Oft-times that he might see his Dearest-faire,Vpon his stately Jennet he in th'way
Rides by her house, who neigh's, as if he were
Proud to be view'd by bright Constantia.
But his poore Master though to see her move
His joy, dares show no looke betraying love.
9
10
Soone as the morne peep'd from her rosie bedAnd all Heavens smaller lights expulsed were:
She by her friends and neere acquaintance led
Like other Maids oft walk't to take the ayre;
Aurora blusht at such a sight unknowne,
To see those cheekes were redder then her owne.
11
Th'obsequious Lover follows still her traineAnd where they goe, that way his journey feines.
Should they turne backe, he would turne backe againe;
For where his Love, his businesse there remaines.
Nor is it strange hee should be loath to part
From her, since shee had stolne away his heart.
12
Philetus hee was call'd sprung from a raceOf Noble ancestors; But greedy Time
And envious Fate had labour'd to deface
The glory which in his great Stocke did shine;
His state but small, so Fortune did decree,
But Love being blind, hee that could never see.
13
Yet he by chance had hit his heart aright,And on Constantia's eye his Arrow whet,
Had blowne the Fire, that would destroy him quite,
Unlesse his flames might like in her beget:
But yet he feares, because he blinded is,
Though he have shot him right, her heart hee'l misse.
14
Unto Loves Altar therefore hee repayers,And offers there a pleasing Sacrifice;
Intreating Cupid with inducing Prayers,
To looke upon, and ease his Miseries:
Where having wept, recovering breath againe,
Thus to immortall Love he did complaine:
10
15
Oh Cupid! thou whose uncontrolled sway,Hath oft-times rul'd the Olympian Thunderer,
Whom all Cœlestiall Deities obey,
Whom Men and Gods both reverence and feare!
Oh force Constantias heart to yeeld to Love,
Of all thy Workes the Master piece 'twill prove.
16
And let me not Affection vainely spend,But kindle flames in her, like those in me;
Yet if that guift my Fortune doth transcend,
Grant that her charming Beauty I may see:
And view those Eyes which with their ravishing light,
Doe onely give contentment to my sight.
17
Those who contemne thy sacred Deity,And mocke thy power, let them thine anger know,
I faultlesse am, nor can't an honour be
To wound your slave alone, and spare your Foe.
Here teares and sighes speake his imperfect mone,
In language farre more dolorous than his owne.
18
Home he retyr'd, his Soule he brought not home,Just like a Ship whil'st every mounting wave
Tost by enraged Boreas up and downe,
Threatens the Mariner with a gaping grave;
Such did his case, such did his state appeare,
Alike distracted betweene hope and feare.
19
Thinking her love hee never shall obtaine,One morne he goes to th'Woods, and doth complaine
Of his unhappy Fate, but all in vaine,
And thus fond Eccho, answers him againe.
So that it seemes Aurora wept to heare,
For th'verdant grasse was dew'd with many a teare.
11
THE ECCHO.
1
Oh! what hath caus'd my killing miseries?Eyes, Eccho said, What hath detain'd my ease?
Ease, straight the resonable Nymph replyes,
That nothing can my troubled minde appease:
Peace, Eccho answers. What, is any nigh?
Quoth be: at which, she quickly utters, I.
2
Is't Eccho answers? tell mee then thy will:I will, shee said. What shall I get (quoth he)
By loving still? to which she answers, ill.
Ill? shall I void of wisht for pleasure dye?
I; shall not I who toyle in ceaselesse paine,
Some pleasure know? no, she replyes againe.
3
False and inconstant Nymph, thou lyest (quoth he)Thou lyest, shee said, And I deserv'd her hate,
If I should thee beleeve; beleeve, (saith shee)
For why thy idle words are of no weight.
Weigh it (shee replyes) I therefore will depart.
To which, resounding Eccho answers; part.
20
Then from the Woods with wounded heart he goes,Filling with legions of fresh thoughts his minde.
He quarrels with himselfe because his woes
Spring from himselfe, yet can no medicine finde:
Hee weepes to quench the fires that burn in him,
But teares doe fall to th'earth, flames are within.
21
No morning banisht darkenesse, nor blacke nightBy her alternate course expuls'd the day,
Which in Philetus by a constant rite
At Cupids Altars did not weepe and pray;
And yet had reaped nought for all his paine
But Care and Sorrow, that was all his gaine.
12
22
But now at last the pitying God, o'recomeBy's constant votes and teares, fixt in her heart
A golden shaft, and she is now become
A suppliant to Love that with like Dart
Hee'd wound Philetus, and doth now implore
With teares, ayde from that power she scorn'd before.
23
Little she thinkes she kept Philetus heartIn her schortcht breast, because her owne she gave
To him. Since either suffers equall smart,
And alike measure in their torments have:
His Soule, his griefe, his fires, now hers are growne:
Her heart, her minde, her love is his alone.
24
Whilst thoughts 'gainst thoughts rise up in mutinie,Shee took a Lute (being farre from any eares)
And tun'd this Song, posing that harmony
Which Poets wit attributes to the Sphears:
Whose ravishing Notes, if when her Love was slaine
She had sung; from Styx t'had cald him backe againe.
The Song.
1
To whom shall I my Sorrowes show?Not to Love, for he is blinde:
And my Philetus doth not know
The inward sorrow of my minde.
And all the senceless walls which are
Now round about me, cannot heare.
2
For if they could, they sure would weepe,And with my griefes relent:
Unlesse their willing teares they keepe,
Till I from th'earth am sent.
Then I beleeve they'l all deplore
My fate, since I them taught before.
13
3
I willingly would weepe my store,If the'floud would land thy Love,
My deare Philetus on the shoare
Of my heart; but shouldst thou prove
Afeard of flames, know the fires are
But bonefires for thy comming there.
25
Then teares in envie of her speech did flowFrom her faire eyes, as if it seem'd that there
Her burning flame had melted hills of snow,
And so dissol'vd them into many a teare;
Which Nilus like, did quickly over-flow,
And caused soone new serpent griefes to grow.
26
Heere stay my Muse, for if I should recite,Her mournefull Language, I should make you weepe
Like her a floud, and so not see to write,
Such lines as I and th'age requires to keepe
Mee from sterne death, or with victorious rime,
Revenge their Masters death, and conquer time.
27
By this time, chance and his owne industryHad helpt Philetus forward, that he grew
Acquainted with her Brother, so that he,
Might by this meanes, his bright Constantia view:
And as time serv'd shew her his miserie:
And this was the first Act in's Tragedie.
28
Thus to himselfe sooth'd by his flattering state,He said; How shall I thanke thee for this gaine,
O Cupid, or reward my helping Fate,
Which sweetens all my sorrowes, all my paine;
What Husband-man would any sweet refuse,
To reape at last such fruit, his labours use?
14
29
But waighing straight his doubtfull state aright,Seeing his griefes linkt like an endlesse chaine
To following woes, he could despaire delight,
Quench his hot flames, and empty love disdaine.
But Cupid when his heart was set on fire,
Had burnt his wings, and could not then retyre.
30
The wounded youth, and kinde Philocrates(So was her Brother call'd) grew soone so deare,
So true, and constant, in their Amities,
And in that league so strictly joyned were;
That Death it selfe could not their friendship sever.
But as they liv'd in love, they dyde together.
31
If one be melancholy, th'other's sad;If one be sicke, the other he is ill,
And if Philetus any sorrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it still:
Pylades soule and mad Orestes was
In these, if wee beleeve Pythagoras.
32
Oft in the Woods Philetus walkes, and thereExclaimes against his fate, fate too unkind.
With speaking teares his griefes he doth declare,
And with sad sighes teacheth the angrie Wind,
To sigh, and though it nere so cruell were,
It roar'd to heare Philetus tell his care.
33
The Christall Brookes which gently runne betweeneThe shadowing Trees, and as they through them passe
Water the Earth, and keepe the Medowes greene,
Giving a colour to the verdant Grasse:
Hearing Philetus tell his wofull state,
In shew of griefe runne murmuring at his Fate.
15
34
Philomel answeres him againe and shewesIn her best language, her sad Historie,
And in a mournfull sweetnesse tels her woes,
Denying to be pos'd in miserie:
Constantia he, she Tereus, Tereus cryes,
With him both griefe, and griefes expression vies.
35
Philocrates must needes his sadnesse know,Willing in ills, aswell as joyes to share,
Nor will on them the name of friends bestow,
Who in sport, not in sorrowes partners are.
Who leaves to guide the Ship when stormes arise,
Is guilty both of sinne, and cowardise.
36
But when his noble Friend perceiv'd that heYeelded to tyrant Passion more and more,
Desirous to partake his malady,
He watches him in hope to cure his sore
By counsell, and recall the poysonous Dart,
When it alas was fixed in his heart.
37
When in the Woods, places best fit for care,Hee to himselfe did his past griefes recite,
The 'obsequious friend straight followes him, and there
Doth hide himselfe from sad Philetus sight.
Who thus exclaimes; for a swolne heart would breake,
If it for vent of sorrow might not speake.
38
Oh! I am lost, not in this Desart Wood,But in loves pathlesse Labyrinth, there I
My health, each joy and pleasure counted good
Have lost, and which is more, my liberty,
And now am forc't to let him sacrifice
My heart, for rash beleeving of my eyes.
16
39
Long have I stayed, but yet have no reliefe,Long have I lov'd, yet have no favour showne,
Because she knowes not of my killing griefe,
And I have feard, to make my sorrowes knowne.
For why alas, if shee should once but dart
At me disdaine, 'twould kill my subject heart.
40
But how should shee, ere I impart my Love,Reward my ardent flame with like desire?
But when I speake, if shee should angry prove,
Laugh at my flowing teares, and scorne my fire?
Why, he who hath all sorrowes borne before,
Needeth not feare to be opprest with more.
41
Philocrates no longer can forbeare,But running to his lov'd Friend; Oh (said he)
My deare Philetus be thy selfe, and sweare
To rule that Passion which now masters Thee,
And all thy faculties; but if't may not be,
Give to thy Love but eyes that it may see.
42
Amazement strikes him dumbe, what shall he doe?Should he reveale his Love, he feares twould prove,
A hindrance; which should he deny to show,
It might perhaps his deare friends anger move:
These doubts like Scylla and Charibdis stand,
Whilst Cupid a blind Pilot doth command.
43
At last resolv'd; how shall I seeke, said hee,To excuse my selfe, dearest Philocrates;
That I from thee have hid this secrecie?
Yet censure not, give me first leave to ease
My case with words, my griefe you should have known
Ere this, if that my heart had beene my owne.
17
44
I am all Love, my heart was burnt with fireFrom two bright Sunnes which doe all light disclose;
First kindling in my breast the flame desire,
But like the rare Arabian Bird, there rose
From my hearts ashes never quenched Love,
Which now this torment in my soule doth move.
45
Oh! let not then my Passion cause your hate,Nor let my choise offend you, or detayne
Your ancient Friendship; 'tis alas too late
To call my firme affection backe againe:
No Physicke can recure my weakn'd state,
The wound is growne too great, too desperate.
46
But Counsell sayd his Friend, a remedyWhich never fayles the Patient, may at least
If not quite heale your mindes infirmity,
Asswage your torment, and procure some rest.
But there is no Physitian can apply
A medicine, ere he know the Malady.
47
Then heare me, said Philetus; but why? Stay,I will not toyle thee with my history,
For to remember Sorrowes past away,
Is to renew an old Calamity.
Hee who acquainteth others with his mone,
Addes to his friends griefe, but not cures his owne.
48
But said Philocrates, 'tis best in woe,To have a faithfull partner of their care;
That burthen may be undergone by two,
Which is perhaps too great for one to beare.
I should mistrust your love to hide from me
Your thoughts, and taxe you of Inconstancy.
18
49
What shall he doe? or with what language frameExcuse? He must resolve not to deny,
But open his close thoughts, and inward flame,
With that, as prologue to his Tragedy.
Hee sigh'd, as if they'd coole his torments ire,
When they alas, did blow the raging fire.
50
When yeeres first styl'd me Twenty, I beganTo sport with catching snares that love had set,
Like birds that flutter 'bout the gyn, till tane,
Or the poore Fly caught in Arachnes net:
Even so I sported with her Beauties light,
Till I at last grew blind with too much sight.
51
First it came stealing on me, whil'st I thought,'Twas easie to expulse it, but as fire,
Though but a sparke, soone into flames is brought,
So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher;
Which so have scorcht my love-strucke soule, that I
Still live in torment, though each minute dye.
52
Who is it, said Philocrates, can moveWith charming eyes such deep affection?
I may perhaps assist you in your love,
Two can effect more than your selfe alone.
My counsell this thy error may reclaime,
Or my salt teares quench thy annoying flame.
53
Nay said Philetus, oft my eyes doe flowLike Nilus, when it scornes th'opposed shore:
Yet all the watery plenty I bestow,
Is to my flame an oyle, which feedes it more.
So fame reports of the Dodonean spring,
That lights a torch the which is put therein.
19
54
But being you desire to know her, sheIs call'd (with that his eyes let fall a shower
As if they faine would drowne the memory
Of his life keepers name,) Constantia; more
Griefe would not let him utter; Teares the best
Expressers of true sorrow, spoke the rest.
55
To which his noble friend did thus reply:And was this all? What ere your griefe would ease
Though a farre greater taske, beleev't for thee
It should be soone done by Philocrates;
Thinke all you wish perform'd, but see, the day
Tyr'd with its heate is hasting now away.
56
Home from the silent Woods, night bids them goe,But sad Philetus can no comfort finde,
What in the day he feares of future woe,
At night in dreames, like truth, affrights his mind.
Why do'st thou vex him, Love? Hadst eyes (I say)
Thou wouldst thy selfe have lov'd Constantia.
57
Philocrates pittying his dolefull mone,And wounded with the Sorrowes of his friend,
Brings him to fayre Constantia; where alone
Hee might impart his love, and eyther end
His fruitlesse hopes, cropt by her coy disdaine,
Or by her liking, his wish't Joyes attaine.
58
Fairest (quoth he) whom the bright Heavens doe cover,Doe not these teares, these speaking teares, despise,
And dolorous sighes, of a submissive Lover,
Thus strucke to th'earth by your all dazeling Eyes.
And doe not you contemne that ardent flame,
Which from your selfe, Your owne faire Beauty came.
20
59
Trust me, I long have hid my love, but nowAm forc't to show't, such is my inward smart,
And you alone (sweet faire) the meanes do know
To heale the wound of my consuming heart.
Then since it onely in your power doth lie
To kill, or save, Oh helpe! or else I dye.
60
His gently cruell Love, did thus reply;I for your paine am grieved, and would doe
Without impeachme[n]t to my Chastity
And honour, any thing might pleasure you.
But if beyond those limits you demand,
I must not answer, (Sir) nor understand.
61
Beleeve me vertuous maiden, my desireIs chast and pious, as thy Virgin thought,
No flash of lust, 'tis no dishonest fire
Which goes as soone as it was quickly brought:
But as thy beauty pure, which let not bee
Eclipsed by disdaine, and cruelty.
62
Oh! how shall I reply (quoth shee) thou'ast wonMy soule, and therefore take thy victory:
Thy eyes and speaches have my heart o'recome,
And if I should deny thee love, then I
Should bee a Tyrant to my selfe; that fire
Which is kept close, burnes with the greatest ire.
63
Yet doe not count my yeelding, lightnesse in mee,Impute it rather to my ardent love,
Thy pleasing carriage long agoe did win me,
And pleading beauty did my liking move.
Thy eyes which draw like loadstones with their might
The hardest hearts, won mine to leave me quite.
21
64
Oh! I am rapt above the reach, said hee,Of thought, my soule already feeles the blisse
Of heaven, when (sweet) my thoughts once tax but thee
With any crime, may I lose all happinesse
Is wisht for: both your favour here, and dead,
May the just Gods [pour] vengeance on my head.
65
Whilst he was speaking this (behold their fate)Constantia's father entred in the roome,
When glad Philetus ignorant of his state,
Kisses her cheekes, more red then setting Sun,
Or else, the morne, blushing through clouds of water,
To see ascending Sol congratulate her.
66
Just as the guilty prisoner fearefull standsReading his fatall Theta in the browes
Of him, who both his life and death commands,
Ere from his mouth he the sad sentence knowes,
Such was his state to see her father come,
Nor wisht for, nor expected to the roome.
67
The inrag'd old man bids him no more to dareSuch bold intrudence in that house, nor be
At any time with his lov'd daughter there
Till he had given him such authority,
But to depart, since she her love did shew him
Was living death, with lingring torments to him.
68
This being knowne to kind Philocrates,He cheares his friend, bidding him banish feare,
And by some letter his griev'd minde appease,
And shew her that which to her friendly eare,
Tyme gave no leave to tell, and thus his quill
Declares to her, the absent lovers will.
22
THE LETTER.
PHILETUS TO CONSTANTIA.
I trust (deare Soule) my absence cannot moveYou to forget, or doubt my ardent love;
For were there any meanes to see you, I
Would runne through Death, and all the miserie
Fate could inflict, that so the world might say,
In Life and Death I lov'd Constantia.
Then let not (dearest Sweet) our absence sever
Our loves, let them join'd closely still together
Give warmth to one another, till there rise
From all our labours, and our industries
The long expected fruits; have patience (Sweet)
There's no man whom the Summer pleasures greet
Before he tast the Winter, none can say,
Ere night was gone, he saw the rising Day.
So when we once have wasted Sorrowes night,
The sunne of Comfort then shall give us light.
Philetus.
69
This when Constantia read, shee thought her stateMost happy by Philetus Constancie,
And perfect Love: she thankes her flattering Fate,
Kisses the paper, till with kissing she
The welcome Characters doth dull and stayne,
Then thus with inke and teares writes backe againe.
CONSTANTIA TO PHILETUS.
Your absence (Sir) though it be long, yet INeither forget, nor doubt your Constancie.
Nor need you feare, that I should yeeld unto
Another, what to your true Love is due.
My heart is yours, it is not in my claime,
Nor have I power to giv't away againe.
There's nought but death can part our soules, no time
Or angry Friends, shall make my Love decline:
But for the harvest of our hopes I'le stay,
U[n]lesse Death cut it, ere't be ripe, away.
Constantia.
23
70
Oh! how this Letter did exalt his pride!More proud was he of this, then Phaeton;
When Phœbus flaming Chariot he did guide,
Before he knew the danger was to come.
Or else then Jason, when from Colchos hee
Returned, with the Fleeces victory.
71
But ere the Autumne which faire Ceres crown'd,Had paid the sweating Plow-mans greediest prayer;
And by the Fall disrob'd the gawdy ground
Of all her Summer ornaments, they were
By kind Philocrates together brought,
Where they this means t'enjoy their freedome wrought.
72
Sweet Mistresse, said Philetus, since the timePropitious to our votes, now gives us leave
To enjoy our loves, let us not deare resigne
His long'd for favour, nor our selves bereave
Of what we wisht for, opportunitie;
That may too soon the wings of Love out-flie.
73
For when your Father, as his custome is,For pleasure, doth pursue the timerous Hare;
If you'l resort but thither, I'le not misse
To be in those Woods ready for you, where
We may depart in safety, and no more
With Dreames of pleasure onely, heale our sore.
74
This both the Lovers soon agreed upon,But ere they parted, he desires that she
Would blesse his greedy hearing, with a Song
From her harmonious voyce, she doth agree
To his request, and doth this Ditty sing,
Whose ravishing Notes new fires to's old doe bring.
24
The Song.
1
Time flye with greater speed away,Adde feathers to thy wings,
Till thy hast in flying brings
That wisht for, and expected Day.
2
Comforts sunne, we then shall see,Though at first it darkned bee,
With dangers, yet those Clouds being gone,
Our Day will put his lustre on.
3
Then though Deaths sad night doe come,And we in silence sleepe,
'Lasting Day agen will greet
Our ravisht Soules, and then there's none
4
Can part us more, no Death, nor Friends,Being dead, their power o're us ends.
Thus there's nothing can dissever,
Hearts which Love hath joyn'd together.
75
Feare of being seen, Philetus homeward drove,But ere they part she willingly doth give
As faithfull pledges of her constant love
Many a kisse, and then each other leave
In griefe, though rapt with joy that they have found
A way to heale the torment of their wound.
25
76
But ere the Sun through many dayes had run,Constantia's charming beauty had o'recome
Guiscardo's heart, and's scorn'd affection won,
Her eyes, they conquered all they shone upon,
Shot through his eyes such hot desire,
As nothing but her love could quench the fire.
77
In roofes which Gold and Parian stone adorn,Proud as their Landlords minde, he did abound,
In fields so fertile for their yeerly corne,
As might contend with scorcht Calabria's ground;
But in his soule where should be the best store
Of surest riches, he was base and poore.
78
Him was Constantia urg'd continuallyBy her friends to love, sometimes they did intreat
With gentle speeches, and mild courtesie,
Which when they see despis'd by her, they threat,
But love too deep was seated in her heart,
To be worn out with thought of any smart.
79
Her father shortly went unto the WoodTo hunt, his friend Guiscardo being there,
With others who by friendship and by blood
Unto Constantia's aged Father were
Allyed neere, there likewise were with these,
His beautious Daughter, and Philocrates.
80
Being entred in the pathlesse woods, whilst theyPursue their game, Philetus which was late
Hid in a thicket, carries straight away
His Love, and hastens his owne hastie fate.
Which came too soone upon him, and his Sunne
Eclipsed was, before it fully shone.
26
81
For when Constantia's missed, in a maze,Each takes a severall course, and by curst fate
Guiscardo runs, with a love-carried pace
Towards them, who little knew their sorrowfull state:
So hee like bold Icarus soaring hye
To Honours, fell to th'depth of misery.
82
For when Guiscardo sees his Rivall there,Swelling with envious rage, hee comes behind
Philetus, who such fortune did not feare,
And with his flaming sword a way doth find
To his heart, who ere that death possest him quite,
In these few words gaspt out his flying sprite.
83
O see Constantia, my short race is runne,See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye,
But live thou happier then thy love hath done,
And when I'm dead, thinke sometime upon me.
More my short time permits me not to tell,
For now death ceizeth me, ob my deare farewell.
84
As soon as he had spoke these words, life fledFrom's wounded body, whil'st Constantia shee
Kisses his cheekes which lose their lively red,
And become pale, and wan, and now each eye
Which was so bright, is like, when life was done
A fallen starre, or an eclipsed Sunne.
85
Thither Philocrates by's fate being droveTo accompany Philetus Tragedy,
Seeing his friend was dead, and's sorrowfull love
Sate weeping o're his bleeding body, I
Will now revenge thy death (best friend) said he,
Or in thy murther beare thee company.
27
86
I am by Jove sent to revenge this fate,Nay, stay Guiscardo, thinke not heaven in jest,
'Tis vaine to hope flight can secure thy state.
Then thrusting's sword into the Villaines brest:
Here, said Philocrates, thy life I send
A sacrifice, t'appease my slaughter'd friend.
87
But he falls: here take a reward said heFor this thy victory, with that he flung
His killing Rapier at his enemy,
Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung.
With that he falls, but lifting up his eyes,
Farewell Constantia, that word said, he dyes.
88
What shall she doe? she to her brother runnesAnd's cold, and livelesse body doth imbrace,
She calls to him, he cannot heare her moanes:
And with her kisses warmes his clammy face.
My deare Philocrates, shee weeping cryes,
Speake to thy Sister: but no voyce replyes.
89
Then running to her Love, with many a teare,Thus her minds fervent passion she express't,
O stay (blest Soule) stay but a little here,
And we will both hast to a lasting rest.
Then to Elisiums Mansions both together
Wee'l journey, and be marryed there for ever.
90
But when she saw they both were dead, quoth she,Oh my Philetus, for thy sake will I
Make up a full and perfect Tragedy,
Since 'twas for me (Deare Love) that thou didst dye;
Ile follow thee, and not thy losse deplore,
These eyes that saw thee kill'd, shall see no more.
28
91
It shall not sure be said that thou didst dye,And thy Constantia live since thou wast slaine:
No, no, deare Soule, I will not stay from thee,
But constant be in act, as well as Name.
Then piercing her sad brest, I come, she cryes,
And Death for ever clos'd her weeping eyes.
92
Her Soule being fled to its eternall rest,Her Father comes, who seeing this, he falls
To th'earth, with griefe too great to be exprest:
Whose dolefull words my tyred Muse me calls
T' o'repasse, which I most gladly doe, for feare
That I should toyle too much, the Readers eare.
FINIS.
| The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley | |