Parthenia appears from the mountain.
Why this way doft thou turn thy baneful eyes,
Pernicious Bafilifk? Lo! there he lies:
There lies the youth thy cursed beauty flew;
See, at thy prefence, how he bleeds anew !
Look down, enjoy thy murder.
Spare my fame;
I come to clear a virgin's injur'd name.
If I'm a Bafilifk, the danger fly,
Shun the fwift glances of my venom'd
eye:
If I'm a murderer, why approach ye near,
And to the dagger lay your bofom bare?
What heart is proof against that face divine?
Love is not in our power.
If e'er I trifled with a fhepherd's pain,
Or with false hope his paffion ftrove to gain;
Then might you juftly curfe my favage mind,
Then might you rank me with the ferpent kind :
But I ne'er trifled with a fhepherd's pain,
Nor with falfe hope his paffion ftrove to gain
'Tis to his rafh pursuit he owes his fate;
I was not cruel; he was obftinate.
Hear this, ye fighing fhepherds, and despair.
Unhappy Lycidas, thy hour is near!
Since the fame barbarous hand hath fign'd thy doom, We'll lay thee in our lov'd Menalcas' tomb.
Why will intruding man my peace destroy?
Let me content and folitude enjoy ;
Free was I born; my freedom to maintain,
Early I fought the unambitious plain.
Moft women's weak refolves, like reeds, will ply,
Shake with each breath, and bend with every figh;
Minë, like an oak, whofe firm roots deep defcend,
Nor breath of love can fhake, nor figh can bend.
If ye unhappy Lycidas would fave;
Go feek him, lead him to Menalcas' grave;
Forbid his eyes with flowing grief to rain,
Like him Menalcas wept, but wept in vain :
Bid him his heart-confuming groans give o'er ;
Tell him, I heard fuch piercing groans before,
And heard unmov'd. O Lycidas, be wife,
Prevent thy fate. - Lo! there Menalcas lies.
Now all the melancholy rites are paid,
And o'er his grave the weeping marble laid;
Let's feek our charge; the flocks, difperfing wide,
Whiten with moving fleece the mountain's fide.
Trust not, ye fwains, the lightning of her eye,
Left ye, like him, should love, despair, and die.
[Exeunt Shepherds, &c. Parthenia remains in a me-
lancholy posture, looking on the grave of Menalcas.
When shall my steps have reft? through all the wood,
And by the winding banks of Ladon's flood,
I fought my love. O fay, ye fkipping fawns
(Who range entangled fhades and daify'd lawns),
If ye have feen her! fay, ye warbling race
(Who measure on swift wing th' aerial space,
And view below hills, dales, and diftant fhores),
Where shall I find her whom my foul adores !
LYCIDAS, PARTHENIA, DIONE, LAURA.
[Dione and Laura at a distance.
What do I fee? no. Fancy mocks my eyes,
And bids the dear deluding vifion rife.
"Tis fhe. My fpringing heart her prefence feels. See, proftrate Lycidas before thee kneels.
Why will Parthenia turn her face away?
Who calls Parthenia? hah!
[She ftarts from ber melancholy; and, feeing Lycidas,. flies into the wood.
LYCIDAS:
Stay, virgin, ftay.
O wing my feet, kind Love. See, fee, the bounds, Fleet as the mountain roe, when preft by hounds. [He pursues her. Dione faints in the arms of Laura.
What means this trembling? All her colour flies,
And life is quite unftrung. Ah! lift thy eyes,
And anfwer me; fpeak, fpeak, 'tis Laura calls.
Speech has forfook her lips. She faints, fhe falls.
Fan her, ye zephyrs, with your balmy breath,
And bring her quickly from the fhades of death :
Blow, ye cool gales. See, fee, the forest shakes
With coming winds! fhe breathes, the moves, the wakes.
Say, what new forrow has thy heart oppreft?
Didft thou not hear his fighs and suppliant tone?
Didft thou not hear the pitying mountain groan?
Didst thou not fee him bend his fuppliant knee?
Thus in my happy days he knelt to me,
And pour'd forth all his foul! See how he ftrains,
And leffens to the fight o'er yonder plains,
To keep the fair in view! Run, virgin, run,
Hear not his vows; I heard, and was undone !
Let not imaginary terrors fright.
Some dark delufion fwims before thy fight.
I faw Parthenia from the mountain's brow,
And Lycidas with proftrate duty bow;
Swift, as the falcon's wing, I faw her fly,
And heard the cavern to his groans reply.
Why ftream thy tears for forrows not thy own?
Oh! where are honour, faith, and juftice flown?
Perjur'd Evander !
Touch not the mournful ftring that wakes thy woc.
That amorous fwain, whom Lycidas you name, (Whofe faithlefs bofom feels another flame)
Is my once kind Evander
but lives, alas! no more for me..
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