University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

DIONE. PARTHENIA.
Parthenia.
Sweet is the walk when night has cool'd the hour.
This path directs me to my sylvan bower.

[Aside.
Dione.
Why is my soul with sudden fear dismay'd?
Why drops my trembling hand the pointed blade?
O string my arm with force!

[Aside.
Parthenia.
—Methought a noise
Broke through the silent air, like human voice.

[Aside.
Dione.
One well-aim'd blow shall all my pangs remove,
Grasp firm the fatal steel, and cease to love.

[Aside.
Parthenia.
Sure 'twas Alexis, hah! a sword display'd.
The streaming lustre darts a-cross the shade.

[Aside.
Dione.
May heav'n new vigour to my soul impart,
And guide the desp'rate weapon to my heart!

[Aside.
Parthenia.
May I the meditated death arrest!
[Holds Dione's hand.
Strike not rash shepherd; spare thy guiltless breast.
O give me strength to stay the threaten'd harm,
And wrench the dagger from his lifted arm!

Dione.
What cruel hand withholds the welcome blow?
In giving life, you but prolong my woe.
O may not thus th'expected stroke impend!
Unloose thy grasp, and let swift death descend.
But if yon murder thy red hands hath dy'd;
Here. Pierce me deep; let forth the vital tide.

[Dione quits the dagger.
Parthenia.
Wait not thy fate; but this way turn thy eyes;
My virgin hand no purple murder dies.
Turn then, Alexis; and Parthenia know,
'Tis she protects thee from the fatal blow.

Dione.
Must the night-watches by my sighs be told?
And must these eyes another morn behold
Though dazling floods of tears? ungen'rous maid,
The friendly stroke is by thy hand delay'd;
Call it not mercy to prolong my breath;
'Tis but to torture me with lingring death.

Parthenia.
What moves thy hand to act this bloody part?
Whence are these gnawing pangs that tear thy heart;
Is that thy friend who lies before thee slain?
Is it his wound that reeks upon the plain?
Is't Lycidas?

Dione.
—No. I the stranger found,
Ere chilly death his frozen tongue had bound.
He said; as at the rosy dawn of day,
He from the city took his vagrant way,
A murd'ring band pour'd on him from the wood,
First seiz'd his gold, than bath'd their swords in blood.

Parthenia.
You, whose ambition labours to be great,
Think on the perils which on riches wait.
Safe are the shepherd's paths; when sober even
Streaks with pale light the bending arch of heaven,
From danger free, thro' desarts wild he hies,
The rising smoke far o'er the mountain spies,
Which marks his distant cottage; on he fares,
For him no murd'rers lay their nightly snares;
They pass him by, they turn their steps away;
Safe poverty was ne'er the villain's prey.
At home he lies secure in easy sleep,
No bars his ivy-mantled cottage keep;
No thieves in dreams the fancy'd dagger hold,
And drag him to detect the buried gold;
Nor starts he from his couch aghast and pale,
When the door murmurs with the hollow gale.
While he, whose iron coffers rust with wealth,
Harbours beneath his roof deceit and stealth;
Treach'ry with lurking pace frequents his walks,
And close behind him horrid murder stalks.
'Tis tempting lucre makes the villain bold,
There lies a bleeding sacrifice to gold.

Dione.
To live is but to wake to daily cares,
And journey through a tedious vale of tears.
Had you not rash'd between, my life had flown;
And I, like him, no more had sorrow known.

Parthenia.
When anguish in the gloomy bosom dwells,
The counsel of a friend the cloud dispells.
Give thy breast vent, the secret grief impart,
And say what woe lies heavy at thy heart.
To save thy life kind heaven has succour sent,
The gods by me thy threaten'd fate prevent.

Dione.
No. To prevent it, is beyond thy power;
Thou only canst defer the welcome hour.
When you the lifted dagger turn'd aside,
Only one road to death thy force deny'd;
Still fate is in my reach. From mountains high,
Deep in whose shadow craggy ruins lie,
Can I not headlong fling this weight of woe,
And dash out life against the flints below?
Are there not streams, and lakes and rivers wide,
Where my last breath may bubble on the tide?
No. Life shall never flatter me again,
Nor shall to-morrow bring new sighs and pain.

Parthenia.
Can I this burden of thy soul relieve,
And calm thy grief?

Dione.
—If thou wilt comfort give;
Plight me thy word, and to that word be just;
When poor Alexis shall be laid in dust,
That pride no longer shall command thy mind,
That thou wilt spare the friend I leave behind.
I know his virtue worthy of thy breast.
Long in thy love may Lycidas be blest!

Parthenia.
That swain (who would my liberty controul,
To please some short-liv'd transport of his soul)
Shows, while his importuning flame he moves,
That 'tis not me, himself alone he loves.
O live, nor leave him by misfortunes prest;
'Tis shameful to desert a friend distrest.

Dione.
Alas! a wretch like me no loss would prove,
Would kind Parthenia listen to his love.

Parthenia.
Why hides thy bosom this mysterious grief?
Ease thy o'erburden'd heart, and hope relief.

Dione.
What profits it to touch thy tender breast.
With wrongs, like mine, which ne'er can be redrest?
Let in my heart the fatal secret die,
Nor call up sorrow in another's eye!