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The First SCENE is a River. Peneus, a River-God, appears on a Bed of Rushes, leaning on his Urn. He rises, and comes forward, his Head crown'd with Rushes and Flowers, a Reed in his Hand.
PENEUS.
How long must Peneus chide in vain
His Daughter's Coyness and Disdain?
Thro' Tempe's pleasant Vales and Bow'rs
As my full Urn its Current pours,
In every Plain, from every Grove
I hear the Sighs of slighted Love;
And on my rushy Banks the Silvans cry
Why ever cruel, Daphne, why?
But see She comes, the beauteous Cause;
Daphne, my just Commands attend,
Hear me, thy Father and thy Friend,
And yield at last to Love and Hymen's Laws.

DAPHNE.
O Peneus urge this cruel Suit no more.
Have I not to Diana swore?
Behold again to her I bow,
Devoted ever to remain
A Virgin of her Spotless Train,
Hear, Cynthia, and confirm my Vow.

[Exit Daph.
PENEUS.
Rash Maid return—
What hast thou Sworn?
With thee shall Peneus' Race expire?
Then hear once more thy slighted Sire,
And know, thy fatal Vow draws down
The Curse of Heav'n, a Father's Frown,
And sure Destruction waits thy Scorn.
[Exit Pen.

SCENE changes to a Forest.
Apollo Enters with his Bow and Arrows, as having newly slain the Python.
APOLLO.
'Tis done—the Monster Python, slain
By Phœbus' Shafts, lyes breathless on the Plain.
Yet why with Conquest am I thus adorn'd?
Alas! I feel a Mortal's Pain,
Conquer'd by Love, whom once I scorn'd.
O Daphne! till thy Smiles I can obtain,
No more these Marks of Triumph let me bear;
But thus a Shepherd's Semblance wear
Till blest by thee I grow a God again.
[Throws away his Bow and Arrows, and takes up a Sheep-hook.
See—She appears; how wondrous Fair!
Hail Goddess of these verdant Groves!

DAPHNE.
What art thou, or from whence?

APOLLO.
A Swain that loves.

DAPHNE.
Thy unavailing Courtship spare.
Dost thou not daily hear the Shepherds cry
Why ever cruel, Daphne, why?—
Go—with the rest despair.

APOLLO.
No, let the rest despair, while I
Distinguish'd, triumph in the Joy.

DAPHNE.
Canst thou the Mountain Tyger bind,
Or stop the Floods, or fix the Wind?
Do this—then Daphne will perhaps be kind.

APOLLO.
Ev'n Tygers Love's soft Laws obey;
Art thou more savage far than they?
Look all around thee, and above!
Love lights the Skies, and paints the Meads;
Its genial Flame
Thro' Heav'n and Earth and Ocean spreads;
Thou art thy self the happiest Child of Love,
Do not thy Birth disclaim.

DAPHNE.
Tho' fair as Phœbus thou shou'dst seem,
And were thy Words soft as his Lyre
They cou'd not move me to Desire,
Wake, Shepherd, from thy Dream.

APOLLO.
In her soft Cheeks and beauteous Eyes,
What new enchanting Graces rise!

[Aside
Duetto for Apollo, and Daphne.
Apol.
No more deny me,
O cease to fly me
Your faithful Swain.

Daph.
No longer try me,
For ever fly me
Despairing Swain.

Apol.
Yet hear me.

Daph.
Forbear me.

Apol.
Let Sighs imploring
And Looks adoring
Still speak my Pain.

Daph.
Your Sighs imploring
And Looks adoring
But move Disdain.
[Exit Daph.

APOLLO.
She's gone—nor knows from whom she flies.
Mistaken Coyness! false Disdain!
Phœbus she prais'd, but scorns the Swain—
Then, breaking from this dark Disguise,
When Phœbus what he is shall seem,
My glittering Rays and melting Lyre
At last shall warm thee to Desire,
And wake thee, Daphne, from thy Dream.

[Exit Apollo.
Enter Daphne and Doris.
DAPHNE.
Doris, why this trifling Tale?

DORIS.
That good Advice may once prevail;
Save one—nor all your Lovers lose.
Alas! that I, poor I might gain
What you each Day refuse!

DAPHNE.
Take all, and ease me of the Pain.

DORIS.
I wou'd—but ah! 'twere now in vain:

DAPHNE.
Poor Doris! dry thy weeping Eyes;
Dost thou repent thou once wert wise?

DORIS.
Yet might I see one courting Swain,
Tho' but to slight him once again!—
But come—I'll amorous Thoughts give o'er.

DAPHNE.
'Tis well! to leave 'em at threescore.
Haste then, and at th' appointed Place
See if the Nymphs expect me for the Chace.

[Ex. Doris.
[A Symphony of Instruments is heard, whilst Apollo Descends in the Chariot of the Sun; a Crown of Rays about his Head, and his Lyre in his Hand.]
DAPHNE.
What Sounds Cœlestial strike my Ear!
Why does the golden Source of Light
Pour out new Day?—how wond'rous bright!
Some God descends to human Sight;
I'm charm'd, yet aw'd with Fear.

APOLLO.
Daphne, on Phœbus fix thy Eye,
With meaner Shapes deceiv'd no more;
Know, I thy beauteous Form adore;
Wilt thou a God, a God that loves thee, fly?
[Apollo strikes his Lyre, and Daphne turns back as surpriz'd at the Sound.]
Hark how the River-Shores prolong
My soft Complaints, and murmur to my Song!
Thy Father Peneus feels my Pain;
See! how his Osiers gently bow,
And seem my secret Soul to know—

Daph.
aside.]
Alas! My rash, my fatal Vow!

Apol.
Wilt thou alone unmov'd remain?

[As Daphne is going out she stops, and sings the following Air.]
DAPHNE.

Apol.
O do not go—

Daph.
Dost thou not know,
I'm of Diana's Train?
Thy Love forbear—

Apol.
Thy Scorn forbear—

Daph.
I must not hear;

Apol.
O stay and hear;

Daph.
Thy Love is vain.

Apol.
Thy Flight is vain.

[Exit Daph. pursu'd by Apollo.
SCENE changes to the River.
Re-enter Daphne looking back as affrighted.
DAPHNE.
He comes—the swift Pursuer comes—O where
Shall I escape his piercing Sight,
Where hide me from the God of Light?
Ah! 'tis in vain—he's here.
Daphne runs to the side of the River, and, as she sings the following Air, is transform'd into a Laurel Tree.]

Apollo enters at the latter End of the Air, and is met by Peneus.
APOLLO.

PENEUS.
Still Peneus, with a Father's Care,
Shall feed thee from his flowing Urn
With Verdure ever fresh and fair,
Nor this thy destin'd Change shall mourn.

CHORUS, or Duetto of Apollo and Peneus.