University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

[To her.] SYLVIA.
SYLVIA.
My Sister! my Constantia!

CONSTANTIA.
What imports
Thy breathless haste, and whence my Sylvia's transport?

SYLVIA.
O Sister! I am wild with sudden joy!

CONSTANTIA.
But say the cause.

SYLVIA.
My dear, my lovely fawn,
So many days deplor'd and sought in vain,
Is now return'd.

CONSTANTIA.
And hence thy mighty rapture!

SYLVIA.
And think'st thou this so little? well thou know'st
My fawn's my care, my darling and my friend:
She loves her Sylvia: when I speak, methinks
She hears me with a more than brutal sense:
She sleeps upon my bosom, courts my kisses,
And still attends me wheresoe'er I go:
Her had I lost, her have I found again,
And think'st thou this so small a cause of joy?

CONSTANTIA.
O happy Innocence!

SYLVIA.
Shall I, my Sister,
For ever hear thy sighs and see thy tears?

CONSTANTIA.
And can I ever dry these weeping eyes?
Full thirteen times has spring renew'd his course,
Since thus abandon'd, and secluded far
From human race, depriv'd of ev'ry comfort,
O Heav'n! without one glimm'ring hope again
To view my lost, my dear paternal shores,
Here have I dwelt and dragg'd a dying life.
And would'st thou, Sylvia, have me yet unmov'd?

SYLVIA.
But what have we to ask to make us happy?
Are we not Sov'reigns here? This pleasing Isle
Our peaceful kingdom, and the forest herds
Our gentle subjects? Earth and sea produce
Supplies for us: the friendly trees afford
A grateful shelter from the burning heat;
And hollow caves defend us from the cold:
Our will is uncontroul'd by force or law.
If this suffice not, say what more remains
To make us blest?

CONSTANTIA.
Alas! thou can'st not miss
The good thou ne'er hast known: when first we reach'd
These lonely shores, thy lips could scarcely utter
Imperfect sounds, thy young ideas then
Unform'd and unconnected: thy remembrance
Preserves no trace of what we once have been,
No object knows but what this Isle affords.
I, who was then as thou art now, remember
(O fatal recollection!) what I was,
And with my present state compare the past.

SYLVIA.
Oft have I heard thee boast the wealth, the wisdom,
The arts, the manners, and delights of Europe.
And yet permit me to declare my thoughts,
This peaceful life for me has greater charms.

CONSTANTIA.
Think not description, Sylvia, can inform thee
Of what from sight thou only canst receive.

SYLVIA.
And yet those boasted lands are fill'd with man,
With man, whose species is our deadly foe:
And hast thou not a thousand times declar'd—

CONSTANTIA.
True; I have told thee oft; yet ne'er enough
Of that detested race. Yes, men are cruel,
Perfidious, impious, treach'rous, more than savage,
Strangers to ties of soft humanity,
Love, faith and pity dwell not in their breast.

SYLVIA.
Then here from them at least we live secure;
And yet—thou weep'st—Oh! if thou lov'st thy Sylvia,
Forbear this grief. What can I do to ease thee?
Do'st thou desire my fawn? Dry up thy tears,
My fawn shall then be thine.

CONSTANTIA.

[Exit.