 | The Triumphs of Love and Honour |  |
SCENE IV.
Philander and Dion enter.Philander.
The Voice of my belov'd, but not the Form!
Urania.
But in vain the Prospects rise
To my sadly weeping Eyes,
Till Philander comes to chear me;
All is Bliss when he is near me;
He can make the warbling Mountains,
And the sweetly murm'ring Fountains,
29
All inviting;
He alone true Joy dispenses.
[Philander hastens to her, and embraces her; and while they are speaking Dion addresses himself to Thalia.
Philander.
Thou Wonder of thy Sex, Life of my Life,
Speak, answer me, for my Heart pants to know,
By what supprising Chance I see thee here?
Urania.
A Flood of Joy breaks in upon my Soul,
Too strong for me to bear. Thalia speak;
Inform thy Brother how I shun'd the Snare
Lay'd for my virgin Heart.
Philander.
My Sister too!
Welcome thou friendly Maid! O! quickly tell me
To what I owe that I am now redeem'd,
From all the Miserys of black Despair,
To Joys unspeakable?
Thalia.
Soon as the Priest
Began the nuptial Rites, Urania droop'd
Like a fair Flow'r beneath a Storm; the Blood
Forsak'd her Cheeks: Life seem'd a-while retir'd;
And all was suddenly one Face of Sadness.
No Care was wanted, and no Art untry'd,
To bring her to herself: to me the King
Committed her in Trust, and cry'd the Hand
That saves my Child from Death preserves my Age
From Woes incurable: before the Morn
Arose to glad the Swains, we fled from Court,
Attir'd as you behold.
30
O! my Urania,
I gaze upon thee like a Wretch exil'd
From the fair Mansions of eternal Bliss,
Shut out from Day to blackest Scenes of Horror,
And in an unexpected Moment call'd
Again to revel in the Fields of Light:
A fairer Prospect meets his ravish'd Eyes
Than he before beheld; each Beauty seems
Doubly improv'd, and dazzles ev'ry Sense.
[Dion, holding the Hand of Thalia.
Amidst the Joys which now surround my Friend,
Dion with great Humility prefers
This one Request. Long has this heav'nly Maid,
Press'd by repeated Vows of Love from me,
Plighted her virgin Heart; my Friend's Consent
Alone is wanted to compleat our Joy.
Philander.
You ask no more than I rejoice to give.
Dion.
Bless'd be the Hour that to your Eyes restores
The Object of your Wishes, who alone
Can reconcile you to yourself, and make
Life worth preserving, bless'd the Voice that gave
A Sanction to my Love. Thalia, now
The Glory of the Camp, and Pomp of Courts,
Cease to allure me; all my future Pride
Shall be to wear out Life in pleasing thee.
Thalia.
And all my Days to come shall be employ'd
In striving, Dion, to deserve thy Love.
31
Still, my divine Urania, I've my Fears;
Methinks I now behold the aged King
Extravagant in Grief; and soon perhaps
Thou may'st again be torn from thy Philander.
So often, Dion, I have try'd thy Friendship,
That I despair not of thy kind Assistance
In what I ask of thee. While I remain
In this Retirement with thy lov'd Thalia,
And with the Fair whose Presence gives me Life,
Return to Court, and there awhile reside,
That your Intelligence from thence may aid us.
Dion.
I go, and may th' Event not cross our Wishes.
[Dion goes.
| The Triumphs of Love and Honour | |