University of Virginia Library

The Languishing LOVER: OR, An Invocation to SLEEP.

A Musical Interlude:

SCENE. A Shady Grove.
Enter Damon, Thirsis, and Alexis.
Da.
Rise, Gentle God of SLEEP, Arise,
With Downy Slumbers close my Eyes,
And give my Restless Thoughts a Kind Reprieve:
For whilst my Lovely Celia's gone,
I must Her Tedious Absence moan;
Without my Better Half 'tis Pain to live.

Thyr.
Bring here thy Pow'rful, Magic Wand;
Close by Poor Damon's Temples stand,
And wave it gently o're his slumb'ring Soul:
Tho' bound within thy Peaceful Chains,
He will be Free from All those Pains,
Those Anxious Pains with which his Heart is full.

Morpheus rises Half-Asleep.
Mor.
Ye Gentle Swains, my Aid invoking,
Your Faithful Friendship I approve:
In Pleasing Slumbers, Dreams provoking,
I'll reward Young Damon's Love.

Da.
Yet tho' I would Thy Captive be,
I'd have my Mimic Fancy free,
And with an Unconfined Motion rove;
And All her Pretty Pastimes play,
That She may to my Eyes convey
The Dear Idea of the NYMPH I love.

Mor.
Her Lovely Image soon I'll send,
Her Beauties All-displaying;
A Thousand Cupids shall attend,
And in Her Eyes be playing:

(Morpheus waves his Hand over Damon's Head, and descends. Damon falls asleep.
Alex.
Oh! FANCY, Wakeful Goddess, now
Inquire thro' Morpheus' Realms below,
For the Dear Treasure of his Heart that's lost:
If there the Nymph Thou can'st not find,
Yet bring th' Idea to his Mind
Of One, that may resemble Celia most.

Thyr.
But if No Draught be treasur'd there
Of One so Exquisitely Fair;
Let Fancy paint the Charmer All anew:
From every Goddess steal a Grace;
Let it be Fancy's Master-piece;
Not Fancy's Self can Celia's Charms outdo.

Alex.
If All her Art shall not avail,
(Nor shall I wonder if She fail)
To draw a Piece of so much Eminence:
Let her Content with Damon rest,
'Till She beholds his Waking Breast;
She'll find Her Image never stray from thence.

Damon wakes.
Da.
Oh! Sleep, resume thy feeble Pow'r;
Betray my flutt'ring Heart no more,
Nor e're pretend to sooth my Cares again:
E're Celia shall forsake my Breast,
Ne're shall my Eyes incline to Rest,
But wake with Endless Joy, in Endless Pain.

CHORUS.
No more, Ye Swains, no more employ
Dull Morpheus' Pow'r to ease your Pain:
The Absent Lover's Darling Joy
Is still to Wake, and still Complain.