 | Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses |  |
SCENE VII.
Enter Oenone and Florinda.Oeno.
Sure some Ill Planet rul'd when I was born!
Oenone's lost, forsaken, and forlorn.
Oh! my Prophetick Fears were all too just,
And my Fond Heart did soon this Change mistrust.
Oh! may That Day be blotted from the Year,
When Paris first did on these Plains appear!
Oh! that I'd mingled with the Common Throng,
And never listen'd to his Perjur'd Tongue!
How Happy once I was!—but sure my Fate
Rais'd high my Joys to make my Pains more Great:
She brought indeed a Glorious Scene to View;
But soon alas! that Pleasing Scene withdrew.
Oenone's lost, forsaken, and forlorn.
Oh! my Prophetick Fears were all too just,
And my Fond Heart did soon this Change mistrust.
Oh! may That Day be blotted from the Year,
When Paris first did on these Plains appear!
Oh! that I'd mingled with the Common Throng,
And never listen'd to his Perjur'd Tongue!
How Happy once I was!—but sure my Fate
Rais'd high my Joys to make my Pains more Great:
She brought indeed a Glorious Scene to View;
But soon alas! that Pleasing Scene withdrew.
So when a Prisoner from his Window spies
A Flow'ry Plain, he feasts his greedy Eyes;
But when he turns, and hears his Ratling Chains,
The Prospect serves but to encrease his Pains.
Lead me, Florinda, to some dismal Gloom,
Where the Sun's Chearful Rays can never come.
There let me spend my last Remains of Life
In Floods of Sorrow, and Incessant Grief.
A Flow'ry Plain, he feasts his greedy Eyes;
But when he turns, and hears his Ratling Chains,
The Prospect serves but to encrease his Pains.
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Where the Sun's Chearful Rays can never come.
There let me spend my last Remains of Life
In Floods of Sorrow, and Incessant Grief.
Flor.
My Dear Oenone, hear Florinda speak,
Upon Thy Friend some Kind Compassion take,
And don't Two Hearts at Once unkindly break.
Cease, cease Thy Tears; Upon My Arm recline.
I'll bear My Part; let Half Thy Griefs be Mine.
Forget His Treatment, and no more complain,
But meet His Suddain Coldness with Disdain.
Let not Despair thus wreck Thy Tender Breast;
I'll sing, and tune Thy Tortur'd Soul to Rest.
Oenone.
If Ought in Nature sure cou'd ease My Pain,
Make Me in Love with Life, and be Myself again;
I own, Florinda, it cou'd only be
Th'Enjoyment of so True, so Dear a Friend as Thee.
Musick has Charms I've heard to soften Rocks,
To temper Brutes, and bend the Knotted Oaks.
Why then, shou'd I Alone excepted be?
Why should Thy Musick have no Pow'r o're Me?
Perhaps, Thy Soothing Sounds My Heart may cure,
And I may feel these Anxious Pains no more.
(She sits down in an Easy Chair.)
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sings.
SONG.
The Worst of Ills may Paris know,
For Wronging Poor Oenone so:
To win Her Heart, and then to prove
So Base and False, as not to Love.
O Cupid! Strike the Perjur'd Swain,
And make Him feel the Raging Pain
Of Ardent Love, and Cold Disdain.
Oenone rises.
Oeno.
Thanks to My Friend, Methinks I feel New Life,
And Scorn arises in the Room of Grief.
I'll go This Moment, and upbraid the Swain,
And ne're will trust Deceitful Man again.
(She goes out.)
Flor.
O! that Her Heart with Love no more may burn!
But much I fear, Her Fondness will return.
(Goes out after Her.)
| Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses | |