English

PART I

Rhyme on, rhyme on, in reedy flow,
O river, rhymer ever sweet!
The story of thy land is meet;
The stars stand listening to know.

Rhyme on, O river of the earth!
Gray father of the dreadful seas,

Rhyme on! the world upon its knees
Invokes thy songs, thy wealth, thy worth.

Rhyme on! the reed is at thy mouth,
O kingly minstrel, mighty stream!
Thy Crescent City, like a dream,

Her soul surged vast as space is. She
Was trembling as a courser when
His think flank quivers, and his feet
Touch velvet on the turf, and he
Is all afoam, alert and fleet
As sunlight glancing on the sea,
And full of triumph before men.

At last she bended some her face,
Half leaned, then put him back a pace,
And met his eyes.

Calm, silently
Her eyes looked deep into his eyes, —
As maidens search some mossy well
And peer in hope by chance to tell

How beautiful is love! The walks
By wooded ways; the silent talks
Beneath the broad and fragrant bough.
The dark deep wood, the dense black dell,
Where scarce a single gold beam fell
From out the sun.

They rested now
On mossy trunk. They wandered then
Where never fell the feet of men.
Then longer walks, then deeper woods,
Then sweeter talks, sufficient sweet,
In denser, deeper solitudes, —
Dear careless ways for careless feet;
Sweet talks of paradise for two,

Ay, she was as Madonna to
The tawny, lawless, faithful few
Who touched her hand and knew her soul:
She drew them, drew them as the pole
Points all things to itself.

She drew
Men upward as a moon of spring
High wheeling, vast and bosom-full,
Half clad in clouds and white as wool,
Draws all the strong seas following.

Yet still she moved as sad, as lone
As that same moon that leans above,
And seems to search high heaven through

This bronzed child, by that river's brink,
Stood fair to see as you can think,
As tall as tall reeds at her feet,
As fresh as flowers in her hair;
As sweet as flowers over-sweet,
As fair as vision more than fair!

How beautiful she was! How wild!
How pure as water-plant, this child, —
This one wild child of Nature here
Grown tall in shadows.

And how near
To God, where no man stood between
Her eyes and scenes no man hath seen, —

ACT. V. SCEN. I.

A H gentle Laelaps , pretty louing dogge,
Where hast thou left thy maister? where is he,
That great commander ouer thee and me?
Thou wert not wont be farre off from his feete,
And O no more would I, were he so pleas'd;
But would as well as thou goe follow him,
Through brakes and thickets, ouer cliffes and rocks
So long as I had life to follow him,
Would he but looke vpon me with that eye
Of fauour, as h'is vs'd to looke on thee.
Thou canst be clapt and strookt with that faire hand

ACTVS. IV. SCENA. I.

Techne. Amyntas

Amyntas must come backe I know this vvay,
And here it will be best for me to stay;
And here, indeed he comes, poore man I see
All quite dismay'd: and now ile worke on him.
Come, vvho tels troth Amyntas, vvho deceiues
Your expectation now, Cloris, or I?
Am. Peace Techne peace, and do not interrupt
The griefe that hath no leasure to attend
Ought but it selfe, and hath shut vp vvith it

ACT III. SCEN. I.

Alcon. Lincus.

VVhat my friend Lincus ? now in troth well met.
Lin. VVell met good Alcon , this fals happily
That we two thus incounter all alone,
VVho had not any conference scarse this moneth.
Al. In troth I long'd to heare how you proceed
In your new practise here among these swaines;
For you and I must grace each others arte:
Though you knew me, vvhen I in Patras dwelt,
And waited on a poore Phisitions man,

ACT. II. SCEN. I.

Siluia. Cloris.

O Cloris , here haue thou and I full oft
Sate and beene merry, in this shady Groue.
Here haue we sung full many a Rundelay,
Told Riddles, and made Nosegayes, laught at loue,
And other passions, whilst my selfe was free,
From that intollerable misery,
Whereto affection now inuassels me.
Now Cloris I shall neuer more take ioy
To see, or to be seene, with mortall eye;
Now sorrow must be all my company.

ACTVS. I. SCENA. I .

Ergastus. Melibaeus.

How is it Melibaeus that we finde
Our Country, faire Arcadia , so much chang'd
From what it was; that was thou knowst of late,
The gentle region of plaine honesty,
The modest seat of vndisguised truth,
Inhabited with simple innocence:
And now, I know not how, as if it were
Vnhallowed, and diuested of that grace,
Hath put off that faire nature which it had,
And growes like ruder countries, or more bad.