 | Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose |  |
From the French Opera of Orpheus.
Eurydice.ACT I. Part of Scene VII.
With patience yield to Fate's decree:Is this the way to follow Me?
The Wretch, who thus resigns his breath,
Is sentenc'd to a living death.
Ah! then forbear that guilty blow,
Or I shall wish in vain
To meet my Love in bliss below,
And never part again.
Eurydice.
ACT II. Part of Scene I.
But, Orpheus, howEmploy'd art thou?
Can Love like thine a doubt allow?
For Me the Nine thy Song inspire;
To Me thy fingers tune the lyre;
Thy sighs and groans are all for Me,
And echoing Hills invoke Eurydice.
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And with the day his labour ends:
But, ah! my Orpheus rests not so:
Doleful numbers,
Broken slumbers,
Day and night but vary wo.
Oh heav'n! to yield thee some relief,
That thou wert witness of my grief!
In grief, alas! with Thee I join,
And deep the wound, tho' deeper thine,
As thou art ignorant of mine.
Orpheus.
ACT II. Part of Scene V.
Infernal King, whose awful swayWhate'er is born, must once obey,
And the last debt to Thee and Nature pay:
No bold Adventurer am I,
The Secrets of thy Reign to spy:
To Realms, conceal'd from all beside,
Love is my Errand, Love my Guide.
Remember, mighty Sov'reign, thy alarms
From Ceres, bent on the design
To rob thee of thy Proserpine;
When first her Virgin charms
Endear'd her to thy arms,
And the new sweets of Nuptial joy were thine.
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How must the Feeling torture Me!
In all his Course my Parent Sun
Views not Another so undone.
By cruel death depriv'd
Of Her in whom I liv'd,
My dear Eurydice I mourn,
In blooming Youth from Orpheus torn.
Eurydice is now thy prize;
Ah! give her back to happier Life,
The fairest Mistress to my eyes,
And to my arms the kindest Wife.
A longer term indulg'd her now,
Would free her not
From Nature's final lot;
And I, like Her, to fate
Devoted soon or late,
Before thy universal throne must bow.
| Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose | |