Aglaura! here Eliza! Ah! perfidious!
Where are you fled? Unhand me, traitor
Mir.-I obey.
Am.-Corisca laid this plot, now go to her,
And tell what thou hast gained.
Mir.-Where fly'st thou, cruel?
Behold at least my death; for lo! I pierce
My bosom with this steel!
Am.-Ah me! I'm well nigh dead.
Mir.-And if this action to thy hand be due,
Behold the weapon and the breast.
Thou hast deserv'd it. What could move thy heart To such presumption?
Am.-Love should not cause
An act of rudeness.
Mir. Then believe my love,
Because I was not rude; if in thy arms
Thou first did catch me, then I cannot well
Be charged with rudeness, since with such a fair
Occasion to be bold, and use with thee
The laws of love, I yet preserved respect,
And almost had forgot I was a lover.
Am.-Upbraid me not with what I did when blind. Mir. And I in love was blinder far than thou! Am.-Prayers and fair words respectful lovers use, Not cheats and thefts.
Mir.-As a wild beast when pressed
By hunger, rushes furiously from the wood.
Upon the traveller, so if I, who live
Upon the food of thy fair eyes alone,
Since by thy cruelty or my hard fate,
That pleasant food I've been so long denied
If I, a ravenous lover, rushing forth
At last to-day upon thee from my wood,
Where I had long been famished, did attempt
In hopes to save my life, one stratagem
Which the necessity of love did prompt,
Then, cruel, blame not me, but blame thyself.
For if, as thou hast said, prayers and fair words
Respectful lovers use, which never thou
Wouldst deign to hear from me; thou by thy flight
And cruelty hast robbed me of the power
To be discreet.
Am. If thou hadst quitted her
That fled from thee, then hadst thou been discreet.
But know thou persecutest me in vain.
What wouldst thou have of me?
Mir.-That only once
Thou wouldst vouchsafe to hear me ere I die.
Am.-See thy good fortune; for as soon as asked
Thou hast received the gift. Now then begone.
Mir.-Ah, nymph! all I have uttered yet,
Is scarce a single drop
Out of the boundless ocean of my woes.
If not for pity's sake, ah, cruel maid!
Yet for the pleasure it will give thee, hear
The last sad accents of a dying swain.
Am. To shun more trouble, and to show how false The hopes thou cherishest, I now consent
To hear thee, but with this condition first:
Say little, quickly part, and come no more.
Mir.-Within too narrow bounds, most cruel nymph,
Thy harsh command would limit such desires,
So boundless an extent of fervent love,
As scarce the thoughts of man can comprehend!
That I have loved, and love thee more than life,
If thou shouldst doubt, oh! cruel, ask these woods
And all their savage race, for they can tell.
Each field, each lonely bush, each aged tree,
The rugged rocks of these steep mountains, too,
Which have been wont to soften at the sound
Of my complaints, can all declare my love.
But wherefore need I seek such numerous proofs
To show my love, when beauty such as thine
Affords, itself, the surest proof of all?
Assemble every beauty of the sky
Clad in its purest azure, let the earth
Show all its excellence, and bring the whole
Within one space; they centre all in thee.
Such is the cause of this my ardent flame,
Necessity and nature give it birth,
For, as by nature water downward flows,
As fire ascends, air wanders, earth is fixed,
As roll the spheres, so naturally my thoughts
Still tend to thee as to their chiefest bliss ;
And ever to thy charms by night, by day,
With all its fond affections flies my soul.
And he who should imagine he had power
My constant heart to sever from thy love,
Might hope with as much ease to work a change
In nature's laws; turn from their ancient course
The heavens, or earth, or water, air, or fire,
And from its firm foundation shake the world.
Yet since 'tis thy command my words be few,
I shall obey, and only say—I die—
And shall do less in dying, since I see
How much thou wishest for my death; but still
I'll do, alas! all that can now remain
For me to do, of every hope bereft.
But, cruel maid, when I am in the dust,
O wilt thou then feel pity for my woes!
Am.-If I had promised I would answer thee
As well as hear thee, then thou wouldst have cause Thus to lament my silence as thou dost.
Thou call'st me cruel, hoping that to shun
Such charge, I might perchance reclaim my thoughts,
And show thee kindness; nor dost thou perceive,
Those flattering praises lavished by thy tongue,
So little merited, are less approved.
They please me not; the charge of cruelty
Delights me more. To be to others cruel
I grant is well termed vice, but to a lover
'Tis virtue; and what thou hast given the name
Of harshness, is in woman honesty,
Candor, and truth; but say that cruelty
To lovers is a fault, declare the time
When Amarillis showed thee cruelty.
Indeed my lover, Oh respect my fame,
My soul's best jewel, and dearer far than life.
Thou seek'st impossibilities; thou seek'st
What heaven forbids to grant, what men oppose,
And what, if done, must be atoned by death.
But most of all and with the strongest shield,
Virtue defends it; for a noble soul
Scorns a more faithful guardian than itself.
Cease then, Mirtillo, longer to complain,
Or importune me more, but fly and live,
If thou be wise; for to abandon life
Through mad excess of grief, is not the mark
Of an heroic, but a timorous soul.
And 'tis the truest virtue to abstain
From what we love, if what we love be wrong,
And virtue's sacred laws forbid the flame.
Mir. He that has lost his heart, has not the power
To save himself from death.
Am. But he that takes
The shield of virtue conquers every passion.
Mir.-Where love already triumphs, virtue yields. Am.-But he that cannot what he will, at least Should do what's in his power.
Mir.-Necessity of loving has no law.
Am.-Distance and time will cure love's deepest
Mir. We fly in vain what in the heart is lodged.
Am.-A new affection will expel the old.
Mir.-Yes; if my heart and soul could be but changed!
Am. The great destroyer, Time,
Will kill love too at last.
Mir.-But cruel Love
Will kill the life or ere that day arrive.
Am. Is there no cure then for thy malady?
Mir.-No cure at all save death!
Am.-Death!-hear me therefore now, and be my words
A law to thee. Although I'm well aware
When lovers speak of dying, it indicates
A custom rather of an amorous tongue,
Than a deliberate and fixed resolve;
Yet if so strange a frenzy e'er should seize thee,
Know that thou wouldst not alone destroy
Thy life; but my good name would also die.
Live then, if thou dost love me, and farewell.
Henceforth I'll reckon it a token sure
Of wisdom in thee, if thou tak'st good heed
That we may ne'er hereafter meet again.
Mir. O cruel sentence ! how can I survive Without my life, or end my bitter woes,
Unless by death!
Am.-Mirtillo, now 'tis time
Thou should'st depart; I've heard thee much too long; Go, and console thyself with this at least ;
Of hopeless lovers there's a numerous crowd;
There is no love but carries with it pain,
Many, as well as thou, of love complain. (Exit Mirtillo.)
Mirtillo, O my life, my soul !
If here within thou couldst perceive
The secret feelings of the heart
Of Amarillis whom thou call'st so cruel,
Well do I know that she would find
From thee that pity thou implor'st from her!
O hapless souls bound by the ties of love;
Mirtillo has my heart, yet what avails
My love to him or his dear love to me!
Ah! wherefore, cruel destiny,
Dost thou divide whom Love has bound?
And wherefore bind'st thou those,
Perfidious Love, whom destiny divides?
Most sacred virtue! awful name!
Thou most inviolable deity
Of truly noble souls !-this fond desire
Which by thy holy rigor I've subdued,
I now present a spotless sacrifice
Before thy shrine. And thou, my love, Mirtillo,
O pardon her that's only cruel
Where she is forced from thee to hide
All show of mercy! O forgive
Her thy fierce foe in looks and words alone,
But thy most tender lover in her heart!
Or if revenge be thy desire,
What greater vengeance can'st thou take on me,
Than thy own grief; for if thou be my heart,
As sure thou art in spite of heaven and earth,
Whene'er thou sigh'st or sheddest tears,
Thy sighs my vital spirits are,
Thy tears my blood, and all those pangs,
And all those mournful sighs of thine,
Are not thy pangs, are not thy sighs, but mine!
|