Leucothoe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Leucothoe

A Dramatic Poem

Bickerstaff, Isaac (1735-1812)

LEUCOTHOE.

ACT I.

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ACT I.

SCENE I.

The theatre represents a plain, bordered with wood; several mountains, which rise one above another, till the highest seem lost in the clouds, making the point of view at the farther end.
Clytie
is discovered in a melancholy posture.

Oh! Jealousy, thy torments who can bear?
Forsaken, scorn'd, abandon'd to despair!
I rage, I burn, no kind assistance nigh!
Give, give me ease, ye gods, or let me die.

Farewel, ye streams! farewel, ye groves!
Farewel, ye shady bow'rs!
Soft scenes of blissful hours,
Of former conscious loves.

Farewel, sweet peace of mind!
Fond wishes, pleasing pain,
With all the tender train,
The joy that happy lovers find.
Farewel! your halcyon days are o'er,
And I must never know you more.

The sun, which appears in the midst of the sky, moves slowly towards the summit of the mountains; where, opening by degrees, it shews Phœbus in his chariot. The horses are discovered, and a great glory.

But, see! he comes, the author of my woes:
He comes, ungrateful God;—but not to me.
Another love within his bosom glows;
Another nymph! distracting misery!
Another nymph allures him to her arms.
I cannot bear the thought! confound her art,
Eternal light'nings blast her charms,
That robb'd me of the dear inconstant's heart.
Goddess of dire Revenge! may all her days
To peace be strangers, and her nights to rest;
May Hope ne'er sooth her with imagin'd ease,
Nor Patience still the tumults in her breast.
Since she has stoln possession of my joy,
Fulfil my pray'r, by pity, justice, led;
May turns alike our happiness destroy,
And all my griefs be doubled on her head.

[She retires among the trees.

SCENE II.

Phoebus
descends the mountain, a symphony playing. The machine sinks.

“Hail! to love, delicious boy,
“Hail! to love, and welcome joy:”
Love, the best, the only treasure,
Love, that laughs at proud degree,
Love, that renders pain a pleasure,
And by enslaving makes us free.

When Heav'n to woman beauty did dispense,
It gave away its own omnipotence.
High 'mongst the pow'rs above, enthron'd I sit,
I'm stiled the God of Wisdom, and of Wit;
This arm alone Light's fiery steeds can rein.
Oh force, how impotent! oh boast, how vain!
Incapable to curb my own desires.
What's strength, or wisdom's use, when love inspires?
Unseen, resistless, it impels us on;
No force can tame it, nor can prescience shun,
And, ere we dread the danger, we're undone.

SCENE III.

PHOEBUS,
CLYTIE.
Hah! whence this boldness? now who dares intrude
Upon my peaceful, sacred solitude?

Clytie,
kneeling.
Light of the world, great eye, and soul,
View at your feet a suppliant maid;
Behold my tears, for you they roll,
For you these sighs my breast invade.
Ah! turn your face; ah! cease to chide;
Nor let, while my distress you see,
What's warmth and life to all beside,
Be coldness, and be death to me.

Phoebus.
Have I not told you, Clytie, o'er and o'er,
That we must meet upon these terms no more?
Why then persist you thus to haunt me still,
And force me to be cruel 'gainst my will?

Clytie.
Because I love, 'tis therefore I pursue.
Oh need I say I love! you know I do.

That answer for me: love, in spite of fear,
Brought me to meet your dread resentment here,
The resolution of my doom to know,
And die,—if you, unkind, will have it so.

Phoebus.
Leave me, and live.

Clytie.
Inhuman! rather say,
Oh ten times rather,—Clytie, Die, and stay.
To life with firmness I can bid adieu;
But 'tis impossible to part from you.

Phoebus.
Be gone.

Clytie.
I cannot.—There was once a time,
When such a word would have been thought a crime.
Oh change, how great! my person to behold,
Am I deform'd, or suddenly grown old?
If ever I had charms your love to gain,
Methinks those charms their wonted bloom retain.
Say then in what, in what is't I offend?
Let me but know my fault, I'll strive to mend.

Phoebus.

Would you my languid appetite revive,
And keep the just expiring flames alive,
Mild and reserv'd you should at distance stand,
And gently feed it with a cautious hand:

What sparingly applied, renews desire;
Pour'd on, extinguishes, and damps the fire.

Give me the nymph who charms with ease,
Whose greatest pleasure is to please;
Whose passion ne'er tyrannic grows,
But hand in hand with freedom goes;
Who ne'er feels transport in her breast,
But as she sees her lover blest:
'Tis such a nymph, and only she,
Must hope to gain a heart from me.

Clytie.
And can you then so soon those vows forget,
Which Eccho scarce has left repeating yet?
Those vows—to me for ever fatal day,
When first they led my easy faith astray!
Which morns and eves have heard, thou base ingrate,
And promis'd love immortal as your state?
Phœbus traverses the stage, she following.
Think but how oft, unmindful of alarms,
You've lain encircled by those yielding arms,
Insatiate draining copious draughts of bliss,
And swearing heav'n was lodg'd in ev'ry kiss;
And then when cloy'd with the delicious feast,
And sunk unnerv'd on this still panting breast,
Think how, repeating the dear task, you've dy'd,
Yet cursed the day that forc'd you from my side.

Phoebus.
That once your beauties did my soul subdue,
I frankly told you, and I told you true.
I lov'd, enjoy'd, and from enjoyment bless'd,
Thought for a while my appetite encreas'd;
But grown with frequent iteration tir'd,
At length I nauseate what I first desir'd.

Clytie.
I see you nauseate, ev'n this moment see
Your eyes regard me with antipathy.
Nor think me stranger to the cause; I know
What brings you, Phoebus, to this secret plain,
For whom my gentle bondage you forego,
And treat my love with insults and disdain.

Phoebus.
Hah!

Clytie.
For Leucothöe. You start; that name
Has struck you. Oh! more false than syren's song,
Was it for this I sold myself to shame?
For this—

Phoebus.

Be wise in time, and stop your tongue,
Another word's destruction sure as hell.
Now hearken, and take care t'observe me well.

By that irrevocable oath I swear,
Which even gods themselves with trembling take,
By the eternal, gloomy Flood, if e'er
You breathe again what you've presum'd to speak
This instant, life shall expiate the offence.
Reply not; make no answer: get you hence.

Oh where, too charming, cruel maid,
Unmindful dost thou rove?
Why is my bliss thus long delay'd?
Haste, haste thee quickly to my aid,
And tune my jarring soul to love.

Clytie.

Confusion! madness! hell! or yet what's worse!
Oh give me breath sufficiently to curse
The world, myself—and all my feeble race.
What! boast your falsehood, own it to my face!
Go, tyrant, seek the idol you adore,
Clytie's weak claims shall trouble you no more:
Hence! stubborn weakness, hence!—O tender fool!
My heart yet fain would hold him, could it be:
But tutor'd by example, I shall cool,
And him disdain, as he has slighted me.

No more let love with golden shafts be drawn,
Or downy mantled wing;
But arm'd his hands,
With flaming brands,

And scorpion whips to sting,
The wretches by his fell distemper gnawn.
No more an infant heaven-design'd,
But a grim monster, fierce and blind,
The curse and scourge of human kind.

SCENE IV.

Phoebus.
Infernal Jealousy! thou foe to rest,
Despotic ruler in the female breast,
Of Love begot, unnatural, and dire,
Thou prey'st upon the vitals of thy sire.
But, see! she comes, whom no such pangs excite,
The harbinger of ev'ry dear delight;
She comes, like teeming Spring along the plain,
Youth, Plenty, Health, and Pleasure, in her train.

SCENE V.

PHOEBUS,
LEUCOTHOE.
So in some ev'ning fair the feather'd male,
Expects his tuneful consort in the vale;
At sight of her, his heart exulting springs,
He rears his plume, and beats his little wings:

They meet, they nestle to each other's breast,
And side by side pursue their way to rest.

Leucothöe.
My lord! my life!

Phoebus.

My best, my tend'rest part!
Thus let me clasp you to my panting heart.
Hence, ye prophane! each ruder guest be far,
The slaves of Business, and the sons of War;
Let none within these happy shades be seen,
But such as wait upon the Paphian Queen,
The sports, the pleasures, and the winged boys,
Foes to suspicion and domestic noise.
Passion may doubt, and quarrel in decay,
Ours still shall flourish—Oh Leucothöe!

[Embracing, and gazing on her tenderly.

Was ever creature form'd so fair!
Sweets from ev'ry pore distilling,
Such a shape, and such an air,
Lips so soft, and eyes so killing.
Turn, oh turn these humid fires!
I cannot bear their wounding glances;
They fill my soul with fierce desires,
And plunge me in extatic trances.

Leucothöe.
Oh! welcome to my soul, as after show'rs
Your own enliv'ning beams to fruits and flow'rs,

Welcome as cooling wind to lab'ring swains,
Or freedom to the wretch that groans in chains.
Might this for ever, ever be my place,
To live and die in thy ador'd embrace.

Phoebus.
Oh thrilling joy! oh more than charming she!
Was ever deity caress'd like me?

Leucothöe.
Oh height of bliss! oh greater than divine!
Was ever mortal happiness like mine?

Phoebus.
How shall I speak the dictates of my heart!
No language can express, no actions prove
My meeting joys.

Leucothöe.
My sorrows when we part!

Phoebus.
How tenderly I doat!

Leucothöe.

How much I love!

Who upon the oozy beach,
Can count the num'rous sands that lie?
Or distinctly reckon each
Transparent star that studs the sky?

As their multitudes betray,
And frustrate all attempts to tell,
So 'tis impossible to say
How much we love, we love so well.

Phoebus.
Be hush'd, ye winds, and you, ye pow'rs, accord,
Who own the force of my superior word.
Hear, and obey! ye deities that reign
O'er the green woods, or haunt the dusky plain;
Hear, and obey! ye softer forms, that lave
In the cool font, or stem the lucid wave;
And ye that roll the rapid orbs on high.

[Soft music.
Leucothöe.
What sounds are these of melting melody,
Which steal so soft and sweet upon my ears?

Phoebus.
Hark! 'tis the music of the moving spheres;
Obedient to thy beauties, they advance
Th'harmonious measures of their tuneful dance.
Nature exults, affected by my joy;
And, see! the sisters, from their sacred height,
In concert mingling, all their art employ,
Proud to administer to your delight.

The music coming forward in a full symphony; the clouds, which obscured the head of the mountains, suddenly disperse, shewing Parnassus, the Muses with their proper symbols, &c.

An entertainment is performed by them on their several instruments, consisting of three parts; the first very sonorous; the second a slow movement, to which a pastoral nymph dances; the third sprightly; when the lowest of the mountains opens, discovering Vulcan's cave. The Cyclops come out, and dance with a number of Dryads, who enter from the woods, then range themselves on each side of the stage. Phœbus and Leucothöe advance.
Leucothöe.
Methinks these scenes, such wonder they inspire,
I still could gaze upon, and still admire;
Yet for the present, prithee, let them cease,
Our revels may offend the neighb'ring peace:
And should they to my father's ears be brought—
My blood runs cold, and curdles at the thought!

Phoebus.
Causeless the thought, and premature the fear!
What can your father do when I am here?
He, and th'extensive empire which he sways,
Struck by my word, shall vanish like a blaze.
Come thou, poor trembling turtle, seek thy mate,
And, safe beneath his pinion, laugh at fate.

Phoebus and Leucothöe.
Hark! Love summons us away;
Let's obey,
Come away;
Hark! Love summons us away:

Just expiring,
With desiring,
Take, oh! take me while you may,
Else I shall dissolve away.
Stay my fleeting soul with kisses,
Till we feed on fiercer blisses,
Blisses Gods alone should share.
Oh! my life, my joy, my treasure,
Oh! the extasy, the pleasure;
'Tis too much, too much to bear.

The End of the First Act.