 | Sappho |  |
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ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Grove near the House of Agenor.AGENOR, DORIS, LYCIDAS.
Ag.
Hence from my sight! or with repentant speed
Restore thy heart to Lycidas.
Dor.
My hand
('Tis all I can) I yield him.
Ag.
See, the swain
With virtuous pride disclaims it!
Lyc.
Not from pride,
But grief, Agenor, I decline a gift,
That Doris yields so coldly.
Dor.
Take it, Youth,
And know, tho' Phaon claims my adoration,
He ne'er shall be thy rival. If his charms
Surpass (as sure they do) whate'er is human,
May I not pay to him that tribute chaste,
We give to bright Apollo?
Lyc.
But his heart,
Wayward and false; his bold licentious tongue;
Does that bespeak divinity?
Ag.
If so,
'Tis such as frights us in the Satyr troop,
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Which oft, at eve, from Etna's burning womb
Are seen to climb, and cool them on yon cliff,
Carolling strains uncouth.
Lyc.
Or boldly daring,
Like ruthless Polypheme, to lure the faith
Of one more heav'nly fair than Galatea
From one, as true as Acis.
Dor.
Hapless Youth!
Much do I pity thee, and much myself.
Yet all I can, in offering here my hand,
I give thee. Ah! my Father, check thy frowns.
Ag.
Away! my soul thy perfidy disowns.
Fly to the Lesbian traytor, fly!
Forsake the mansion of thy Sire:
From fair Sicilia's plains retire,
And take an exile's destiny.
The dower of penury and pine,
Giv'n by a father's curse, be thine!
Forsake the mansion of thy Sire:
From fair Sicilia's plains retire,
And take an exile's destiny.
The dower of penury and pine,
Giv'n by a father's curse, be thine!
[Agenor and Doris exeunt different ways.
SCENE II.
LYCIDAS.
Agenor, stay! my heart releases Doris
From all her vows, so thou forgiv'st her crime.
He hears me not. Ah, lost, lost Lycidas!
And, if he heard thee, could'st thou yield the nymph
To impious Phaon? lov'd as thou hast been,
Canst thou, reflecting on that love, resign
That bliss to him, which should alone be thine?
From all her vows, so thou forgiv'st her crime.
He hears me not. Ah, lost, lost Lycidas!
And, if he heard thee, could'st thou yield the nymph
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Canst thou, reflecting on that love, resign
That bliss to him, which should alone be thine?
Ah! how the Hours, on golden plume,
Flew lightly o'er this fragrant shade,
Where, with my lovely Doris laid,
I cropt the rose, and woodbine's bloom,
To weave a garland for her head.
O cruel change! the tempests lour!
The roses droop, the woodbines fade!
Falsehood and Fraud have seiz'd the bower,
And robb'd me of my darling Maid!
Flew lightly o'er this fragrant shade,
Where, with my lovely Doris laid,
I cropt the rose, and woodbine's bloom,
To weave a garland for her head.
O cruel change! the tempests lour!
The roses droop, the woodbines fade!
Falsehood and Fraud have seiz'd the bower,
And robb'd me of my darling Maid!
SCENE III.
LYCIDAS, SAPPHO (disguised as a Shepherd.)Sap.
Shepherd, I kindly greet thee!
Lyc.
Whence—what art thou?
Methinks I made acquaintance with thy face
This morning near the temple; but thy garb
Then spoke thee female.
Sap.
True; and such I am,
A nymph of Lemnos.
Lyc.
Thy resplendent galley
Glittering with streamers, and thy numerous train
Bespoke thee noble.
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True; but what avails
Or birth, or wealth, when love, when bliss is lost;
When Phaon has deceiv'd me?
Lyc.
Heav'ns! another
Inthrall'd as Doris?
Sap.
Yes, and to release
Doris from thraldom, to avenge myself,
And blast his perfidy, I mask me thus
In man's attire. Conduct me swift to Doris.
Lyc.
Ah! what will that avail?
Sap.
Know, gentle Swain,
I boast no vulgar skill in minstrelsy,
And mean by that to win her heart from Phaon,
And make it mine. That done, from such a bond
(My sex declar'd) thou shalt thyself reclaim
That truant heart, and fix it thine for ever.
Lyc.
Impossible! ye gods, that I could hope it!
O! she too madly doats on Phaon's beauty;
Yet thou art beauteous too; and in thy eye
There sits a soft and modest tenderness,
Which more, methinks, should move a virgin's mind,
Than Phaon's wanton glances.
Sap.
Not on that
Shall I depend, which had not power to keep
My Phaon faithful; but my surer hope
Springs from my soul, and its enchanting art
Which, while it sooths, inflames each hearer's heart.
Shall I depend, which had not power to keep
My Phaon faithful; but my surer hope
Springs from my soul, and its enchanting art
Which, while it sooths, inflames each hearer's heart.
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Whate'er of sacred magic reigns
In verse and heav'n-born harmony,
I mix in my melodious strains:
Apollo hears me from his sky;
Thro' music's maze he guides the song,
Obsequious to my tuneful call;
Now lifts the swelling sounds along;
Now sinks in a pathetic fall.
In verse and heav'n-born harmony,
I mix in my melodious strains:
Apollo hears me from his sky;
Thro' music's maze he guides the song,
Obsequious to my tuneful call;
Now lifts the swelling sounds along;
Now sinks in a pathetic fall.
Lyc.
Never till now did my rapt ear imbibe
Such strains celestial: the tun'd spheres themselves,
That o'er our heads ring their immortal chime,
To the blest gods give not more extacy,
Than thou to Lycidas! it must succeed.
Come on, sweet Lemnian Syren; swift I'll lead thee
To the fair bower, which Doris haunts at noon.
SCENE IV.
Changes to another part of the Grove.AGENOR, PHAON.
Ag.
The guilty ever fly from those they fear;
But I have found, and, finding thee, command
Thy quick departure: Sicily disdains
To harbour falsehood. Vengeance here awaits
Thy crimes. Begone, and by thy flight avoid
Thy doom.
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Unconscious of those crimes, old man,
Why should I fly?
Ag.
Thou hast seduc'd my daughter.
Pha.
I have won
Thy daughter's heart, and, having won, will keep it.
Agenor, know, I am no vulgar suitor!
I own, what well may justify my claim
To nymphs as rich as Doris.
Ag.
Wert thou wealthy
As Lydian Crœsus, I would scorn thy suit:
I've given her to another.
Pha.
'Tis a grant,
Which parents have not in their power to give;
Else why have I her heart? thou didst not give it,
And yet 'tis mine.
Ag.
Insolent wretch! I'll hear
No more. If the next rising sun
Beholds thee here, thy punishment's begun.
No more. If the next rising sun
Beholds thee here, thy punishment's begun.
The rat'ling chain, the prison's gloom,
Where adders hiss, and scorpions sting,
Villain, shall be thy dismal doom!
There Famine, on her raven wing,
Shall hover o'er thy fainting head;
Till Nature, shrinking at the sight,
Quenches the lamp of life and light,
And gives thee to the perjur'd dead.
Where adders hiss, and scorpions sting,
Villain, shall be thy dismal doom!
There Famine, on her raven wing,
Shall hover o'er thy fainting head;
Till Nature, shrinking at the sight,
Quenches the lamp of life and light,
And gives thee to the perjur'd dead.
[Exit Agenor.
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SCENE V.
PHAON.
Sternly he threatens, and has power confest
To put those threats in practice. I will haste
To Doris: press her, ere the morning dawns,
To fly with me to Cyprus. My trimm'd bark
Already is unmoor'd; my ship-mates ready;
And the breeze blows, as if it wish'd to speed
My am'rous theft, and sanctify the deed.
To put those threats in practice. I will haste
To Doris: press her, ere the morning dawns,
To fly with me to Cyprus. My trimm'd bark
Already is unmoor'd; my ship-mates ready;
And the breeze blows, as if it wish'd to speed
My am'rous theft, and sanctify the deed.
Fill'd with each wanton zephyr's gale
My nimble bark shall spread its sail,
And cut the wave with prow of gold:
Around it's keel young dolphins play;
Triumphant Tritons lead the way;
And laughing Love the helm shall hold.
My nimble bark shall spread its sail,
And cut the wave with prow of gold:
Around it's keel young dolphins play;
Triumphant Tritons lead the way;
And laughing Love the helm shall hold.
[Exit Phaon.
SCENE VI.
Changes to the Bower of Doris.DORIS.
Ye solitary shades, once more receive
Your love-lorn visitant! Let my poor limbs
Fall on your fragrance! O that they might soon
Sink into sleep eternal! that Agenor
Might find his daughter here, depriv'd of breath,
And wipe from her pale brow the dews of death!
Your love-lorn visitant! Let my poor limbs
Fall on your fragrance! O that they might soon
Sink into sleep eternal! that Agenor
Might find his daughter here, depriv'd of breath,
And wipe from her pale brow the dews of death!
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Ye Powers! this load of life remove,
Who gave the boon to be enjoy'd;
Behold that boon a burthen prove!
Behold your gen'rous aim destroy'd!
Change then to death your gift divine;
The gift that gladly I resign.
Who gave the boon to be enjoy'd;
Behold that boon a burthen prove!
Behold your gen'rous aim destroy'd!
Change then to death your gift divine;
The gift that gladly I resign.
[She reclines on the turf in a pensive attitude.
SCENE VII.
LYCIDAS, SAPPHO, DORIS.Lyc.
Heard ye that pensive strain? it was the voice
Of Doris. See, reclin'd upon yon bed
Of fragrant violets she sits and weeps!
Hasten, I pray thee, and with some soft air
Chase from her breast the cloud of black despair.
[Lycidas retires behind the Bower, while Sappho sits down at her feet, plays a pastoral symphony on her reed, and then sings.
Sap.
The youth that gazes on thy charms,
Rivals in bliss the gods on high,
Whose ear thy pleasing converse warms,
Thy lovely smile his eye.
But trembling awe my bosom heaves,
When plac'd those heav'nly charms among;
The sight my voice of power bereaves,
And chains my torpid tongue.
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The subtle flame; in dimness drear
My eyes are veil'd; a murm'ring noise
Glides tinkling thro' my ear;
Death's chilly dew my limbs o'erspreads,
Shiv'ring, convuls'd, I panting lye;
And pale, as is the flower that fades,
I droop, I faint, I die!
Dor.
Who art thou, bright-ey'd Spirit? for those strains
Bespeak thee more than human. Tell me, which
Of the tun'd spheres thou guid'st, and why hast left
The chiming orb to sooth my mortal ear
With thy celestial warblings?
SCENE VIII.
PHAON.What do I see? a rival at her feet!
He clasps her hand, devours it with his kisses.
Rouse thee, rash Swain, and stand prepar'd to meet
An injur'd lover's fury.
[Lycidas rushes from behind the Bower.
Lyc.
Stand there first,
And meet the fury of that injur'd lover
Who first has right of vengeance!
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Him I've caught
In am'rous dalliance; he shall first be punish'd,
Thee I can scorn at leisure.
[He runs at Sappho, strikes her on the breast, she falls.
Dor.
Stay thee, Phaon.
Ah me! the shepherd swoons. Good Lycidas
Prevent a deadlier blow.
[Lycidas seizes the crook of Sappho, and stands before the Bower to guard it, while Doris kneels and supports her.
Lyc.
Base Murderer, pause!
In me behold a man, whose firmer arm
Is brac'd to meet thy prowess, vile Assassin,
I dare thee to the combat!
Pha.
No, poor Shepherd,
Thy heart enough is wounded! Hie thee hence:
My wrath shall not assist the scorn of Doris,
Curst with the pang of unsuccessful love.
Go bear away thy woes and quit the grove.
Thy heart enough is wounded! Hie thee hence:
My wrath shall not assist the scorn of Doris,
Curst with the pang of unsuccessful love.
Go bear away thy woes and quit the grove.
Where the willows skirt the brook,
Go and weave a garland green,
Leave thou there thy scrip and crook,
Vent in tears thy jealous spleen:
Heave thou there thy last sad sigh,
Drop into the stream and die.
Go and weave a garland green,
Leave thou there thy scrip and crook,
Vent in tears thy jealous spleen:
Heave thou there thy last sad sigh,
Drop into the stream and die.
Sap.
Die didst thou say? I hop'd I had been dead;
But death, like Phaon, has deceiv'd poor Sappho.
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Sappho!
Pha.
Just Heav'ns! it is, it is my Sappho,
And I have wounded her perhaps to death!
Sap.
Would to that Heav'n thou hadst! but thou may'st still
Atchieve the deed; behold this bruised breast!
O! with thy dagger give a kinder blow,
And I shall be at peace.
Pha.
O torture! torture!
Where shall I turn? how hide me from myself?
SCENE IX.
AGENOR.Whence springs this tumult? need I ask the cause,
When that licentious wretch appears before me?
But who the wounded swain?
Dor.
Hear, Sire, and wonder,
'Tis Lesbian Sappho; she whose tuneful fame—
Sap.
Ah! spare the praise, or turn that praise to pity.
Yes; pity her, whom fate ordain'd to prove
The sharpest pangs of agonizing love.
Yes; pity her, whom fate ordain'd to prove
The sharpest pangs of agonizing love.
O! if thy aged heart can feel,
Ev'n from that venerable eye
My woes might bid the tears to steal,
And not debase its dignity.
Ev'n from that venerable eye
My woes might bid the tears to steal,
And not debase its dignity.
[To Agenor.
Ag.
See, at thy call they freely flow!
Ag. Dor. Lyc.
We all partake in Sappho's woe!
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Shall I, that sorrow's impious cause,
Not add my true repentant tear?
Ag. Sap. Do. Lyc.
Traytor, avaunt! the vengeance fear,
That on thy head thy falsehood draws!
Ag.
Fly from his presence, hapless Fair:
Fly to my hospitable gate:
Dor.
There let this breast thy friendship share;
Lyc.
There let my zeal on both await.
Pha.
Shall I be banish'd from the grove,
Deny'd my folly to atone?
Ag. Sap. Ph. Dor. Lyc.
Such is the righteous doom of Jove!
So Justice thunders from his throne!
[Exeunt—Phaon on the opposite side.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
| Sappho | |