English

T H at which their zeale, whose onely zeale was bent
To shew the best they could that might delight
Your royall minde, did lately represent
Renowned Empresse to your Princely sight:
Is now the offring of their humblenesse,
Here consecrated to your glorious name;
Whose happy presence did vouchsafe to blesse
So poore presentments, and to grace the same:
And though it be in th'humblest ranke of words,
And in the lowest region of our speach,
Yet is it in that kinde, as best accords
With rurall passions; which vse not to reach

When flourish'd Athens with the Grecian reign,
And liv'd her heroes, an illustrious train!
When by her arms each neighb'ring state was sway'd
And kings an homage to her warriors paid;
E'en then those chiefs, with rev'rent awe ador'd
The fane of Pallas more than Mars's sword;
(And Latium's lords, who all the world subdu'd,
Low'r'd their proud fasces to the learn'd and good ;)
And with less glory in the rolls of fame,
Shines ev'ry hero's than each sage's name.
Hail blest Ilissus! in whose sacred shade,

Act 5th

Scene 1st

Melitus

What means this dreadful vision of the night?
Ha! Sure it was not fancy? fancy breeds
A thousand megrims in the brain, and loves
To tease her e'en to madness. — No; twas real;
I saw it plain, and horrid was it's figure;
It glar'd upon me with the eye of death;
And spoke too — sure it spoke — it mention'd Socrates,
And told me, heav'n was pouring down it's vengeance
On my accursed head — It was no dream;

Act 4th

Scene 1st

Xantippe, Plato

Xantippe

Ye gods! what hath Xantippe done, to feel
This deep excess of misery? — Life! What art thou?
— A Curse — at least I've found thee so — the brute,
That knows no care but happily enjoys
The present hour, boasts nobler bliss than man.
He roves along the fields in joyous plight,
Selects his food, drinks free the christal stream,
And to the moment of his fate is happy.

Act 3d

Scene 1st

Phedon, Apame

Phedon

This day, this solemn day, my dear Apame,
Will stand recorded in Athenian Annals,
As the most black and dismal: Not the period,
When Heav'n sent forth the raging pestilence,
When the dank air we breath'd was big with death,
And Athens shew'd a heap of carcases,
Will wear a gloomier aspect to posterity.
Our after-race must blush to read, their fathers
Brought to an infamous, a cruel trial

Act 2nd

Scene 1st

Socrates

How beauteous springs the morn! yon golden beams,
That burst all glorious from the rising sun,
To glad approaching day, and cheer mankind
In their repeated toils, but late were hid
Beneath night's dreary mantle, and black darkness
Shaded a sleepy world: and yet that sun
Rose yesterday as bright, and will tomorrow.
— Say, is not this to die and rise again
Each even and morn? for death itself's no more

[Act the 1st]

[Scene 2d]

[Melitus, Anitus]

[Melitus]

The heavenly powers no doubt entrust their secre[t]
With that vain wretch, who dared defy their godhead,
And slight their altars.

Anitus

Thus the bold Lysistratus
Won on the people by a like pretence;
He too had his Minerva to protect him,
To aid his counsels, and support his cause
High on the shining car with him she rode;

PART V

Well, we have threaded through and through
The gloaming forests, Fairy Isles,
Afloat in sun and summer smiles,
As fallen stars in fields of blue;
Some futile wars with subtile love
That mortal never vanquish'd yet,
Some symphonies by angels set
In wave below, in bough above,
Were yours and mine; but here adieu.

And if it come to pass some days
That you grow weary, sad, and you
Lift up deep eyes from dusty ways

PART IV

There is many a love in the land, my love,
But never a love like this is;
Then kill me dead with your love, my love,
And cover me up with kisses.

Yea, kill me dead and cover me deep
Where never a soul discovers;
Deep in your heart to sleep, to sleep,
In the darlingest tomb of lovers.

The wanderer took him apart from the place;

PART III

Come, lovers, come, forget your pains!
I know upon this earth a spot
Where clinking coins, that clank as chains,
Upon the souls of men, are not;
Nor man is measured for his gains
Of gold that stream with crimson stains.

There snow-topp'd towers crush the clouds
And break the still abode of stars,
Like sudden ghosts in snowy shrouds,
New broken through their earthly bars,