SONG XXXI.
[Melina, dew'd the Roses of her Face]
1
Melina
, dew'd the Roses of her Face,
With liquild Pearl, distlling from her Eye.
Which gave, such Orient lustre, to the place
As doth the milkie path, in starry Skie,
But when her Eye-lids, let their suns arise,
She made her sorrows, smile, then sigh't alas!
And often doubled, in her mournful Cryes,
Fidelio! Dear Fidelio! 'tis for thee Melina Dyes.
2
Who (now my joy is budled up in dust)
Shall chide the follies of the nicer dames
Would he but have them yeild, they must! they must!
Twas he, gave love and Beauty, all their flames:
His Hand, did whisper Love, his fluent Eyes,
Spake, such fine Amours and so void of lust,
That now He's gone, all ocher I despise
Fidelio! &c.
3
Now may I sigh and count the times are past,
Suming up, every pleasure, with a Tear,
Which could they have a date that would but last,
None, e're had been so happy, as we were.
But Envious death, untimely, did surprize,
That sweet, which if a goddess, had imbrac't
Sh'ad drown'd the world, with Tears, at's obsequies.
Fidelio Dear, &c.
4
Was there a dearth, in the Elysian shade,
Of those rare Souls, that Courteous are, and True?
Or were their Ways of Love, so Common made,
That, they, must snatch thee hence, to learn them new?
'Twas so: but (sure) his spirit sullen lyes,
Till I come thither, when (with triumph clad)
We'le Teach, the gods, Loves holier mysteries,
Till then, I sigh Fidelio, &c.
5
Break Heart! to let my Soul ascend!
And inquisition make, ith' Aire,
'Mongst all the spirits, there attend,
To cull out, that's most white and Fair,
What was our Glory, now, their Pride,
And that's mine own, mine only friend,
There is no heaven, without him! so she cry'd
Fidelio! dear Fidelio! sigh't her last & dy'd.
