English

Let me gaze awhile on that marble brow,
On that full, dark eye, on that check's warm glow;
Let me gaze for a moment, that, ere I die,
I may read thee, maiden, a prophecy.
That brow may beam in glory awhile;
That cheek may bloom, and that lip may smile;
That full, dark eye may brightly beam
In life's gay morn, in hope's young dream;

But clouds shall darken that brow of snow,
And sorrow blight thy bosom's glow.
I know by that spirit so haughty and high,
I know by that brightly-flashing eye,

THE Argument .

Philarete Alexis moves
To embrace the Muse's loves;
Bids him never careful seem
Of another's disesteem;
Since to them it may suffice,
They themselves can justly prize.

P HILARETE , A LEXIS .

Philarete.

A LEXIS , if thy worth do not disdain
The humble friendship of a meaner swain,
Or some more needful business of the day
Urge thee to be too hasty on thy way;
Come, gentle shepherd, rest thee here by me

THE Argument .

Philarete on Willy calls
To sing out his pasiorals;
Warrants fame shall grace his rhymes,
'Spite of envy and the times;
And shows how in care he uses
To take comfort from his Muses.

P HILARETE , W ILLY .

Philarete.

P RITHEE , Willy! tell me this;
What new accident there is,
That thou, once the blithest lad,
Art become so wond'rous sad,
And so careless of thy quill
As if thou hadst lost thy skill?
Thou wert wont to charm thy flocks,

THE Argument .

Philarete, with his three friends,
Here his hunting story ends.
King Alexis, with much ruth,
Wails the banished shepherd's youth:
But he slighteth Fortune's stings,
And in spite of thraldom sings.

P HILARETE , C UDDY , A LEXIS , W ILLY .

Philarete.

S O , now I see y'are shepherds of your word:
Thus were you wont to promise, and to do.

Cuddy.

More than our promise is, we can afford:
We come ourselves, and bring another, too —

THE Argument .

Cuddy here relates, how all
Pity Philarete's thrall;
Who, requested, doth relate
The true cause of his estate;
Which broke off, because 'twas long,
They begin a three-man song.

W ILLY , C UDDY . P HILARETE .

Willy.

L O , Philarete! thy old friend here and I,
Are come to visit thee in these thy bands,
Whilst both our flocks, in an enclosure by,
Do pick the thin grass from the fallowed lands.
He tells me thy restraint of liberty

P HILARETE . Willy .

Philarete.

Willy ! thou now full jolly tun'st thy reeds,
Making the nymphs enamoured on thy strains;
And whilst thy harmless flock unscared feeds,
Hast the contentment of hills, groves, and plains
Trust me, I joy thou and thy muse so speeds
In such an age, where so much mischief reigns;
And to my care it some redress will be
Fortune hath so much grace to smile on thee.

Willy.

To smile on me? I ne'er yet knew her smile,

Nuntius. Chorus.

Nunt. Ah! to what part shall I my steps addresse,
Of bondage base the burden to eschue?
Loe, desolation, ruine, and distresse
With horrour do my native home pursue;
And now poore countrey, take my last farewell,
Farewell all joy, all comfort, all delight.
Cho. What heavy tydings hast thou now to tell,
Who tear'st thy garments thus? what forc'd thy flight?
Nunt. I tell the wracke of us, and all who live

Cyrus . Let us triumpho're them (though proud of late)
Whose glory now doth with their greatnesse faile:
Since with their fortune forfeiting their state:
No warre 's approv'd unlesse that it prevaile:
The world, that whil'st we fought, did doubtfull stand,
As for the one, ordain'd to be a prey,
Saw how the heavens plac'd lightning in my hand,
Those thund'ring downe, who would not us obey:
Goe pay our vowes, ere enterprising more;
The gods detest a minde that is ingrate;

San. Why spend you (sir) with sighes that princely breath,
Whence soveraignty authority should take?
" O weake revenge for one when wrong'd by death,
" To yeeld him homage prostrated in blacke! "
That tyrant pale (so hateful unto us)
Whose fatal shaft so great a griefe hath bred,
Where he triumphs should you reare trophees thus,
And weare his livery, as his captive led?
No, though he might this outward blisse o'rethrow,
And you (save you) of all things else might spoile,

Adrast. Can heaven behold one stand to staine these times,
Yet to the Stygian streames not headlong hurld?
And can th' earth beare one burden'd with such crimes,
As may provoke the wrath of all the world?
Why sends not Iove , to have my course confin'd,
A death-denouncing flash of rumbling thunder?
Else (roaring terrour) clouds of circling winde,
By violence to teare me all a sunder?
What corner yet unknowne from men remoov'd,
Both burn'd with rage, and freezing in despayre,