 | Horace |  |
Scena Tertia.
Sabina. Camilla. Julia.Sabina.
Sister, I have good news!
Camilla.
I think I know
What that good news is, if you call it so;
I heard it told my Father, but I find
No comfort in't to my afflicted mind:
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Return more violent by this interval;
And all the rays of comfort it doth shed,
Is only that our tears are respited.
Sabina.
The Gods did not in vain this tumult fire.
Camilla.
We rather do in vain of them enquire.
They have instructed Tullius in this choice,
And theirs but seldom meet the publick voice:
For you must know that the immortal Gods
Descend more rarely to the mean abodes
Of common souls, than unto Princes far,
Who here below their own Vice-gerents are,
And whose unlimited pow'r's a secret beam
Of the Divinity's annext to them.
Julia.
To argue thus is wilfully to rear
Against your self the obstacles you fear.
We only know Heav'ns will, when mov'd by pray'r,
In sacred Oracles the Gods declare;
Neither can you despair: but first you must,
The truth of what you late had thence distrust.
Camilla.
All Oracles do in mysterious sence
Still shrowd themselves from our intelligence,
And when we think we understand them most,
The most we grope, and are in error lost;
Far then from building our assurances
On their illegible, and dark decrees.
When least they seem perplext, then to be sure,
We should suspect them to be most obscure.
Sabina.
By what's already done, we ought to give
Our griefs, and fears, some respite, and reprieve,
T'allay our sorrows, and to give some scope,
Some entertainment to a pleasing hope;
When Heav'ns favour does her Arms disclose
Half open, ready to embrace our woes;
Who then the happy Auspice does not own,
And does expect no blessing, merits none?
That recontracts them, and she takes offence,
To see her bounties checkt by diffidence.
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Heav'n acts alone in all his deep designs;
Nor fits events to flatter humane minds.
Julia.
Heav'n has alarm'd your bosom thus, to fit
You better for the joys must follow it.
Farewel! I'le go enquire of your affairs;
In the mean time pray moderate your cares:
I hope these sad reflexions will all prove,
At my return soft arguments of love;
And that we yet shall dedicate this night
Sacred to Hymen, and to chaste delight.
Sabina.
I hope so too.
Camilla.
I dare not.
Julia.
The success
Will soon discover who the best can guess.
| Horace | |