HYMEN'S TRIUMPH: A PASTORAL TRAGICOMEDY.
BY THE SAME.
Love in Infancy.
Ah, I remember well (and how can I
But evermore remember well) when first
Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was
The flame we felt: when as we sat and sigh'd
And look'd upon each other, and conceiv'd
Not what we ail'd, yet something we did ail;
And yet were well, and yet we were not well,
And what was our disease we could not tell.
Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look: and thus
In that first garden of our simpleness
We spent our childhood: but when years began
To reap the fruit of knowledge: ah, how then
Would she with graver looks, with sweet stern brow,
Check my presumption and my forwardness;
Yet still would give me flowers, still would me show
What she would have me, yet not have me know.
Love after Death.
Palamon. Fie, Thirsis, with what fond remembrances
Dost thou these idle passions entertain!
For shame leave off to waste your youth in vain,
And feed on shadows: make your choice anew.
You other nymphs shall find, no doubt will be
As lovely, and as fair, and sweet as she.
Thirsis. As fair and sweet as she? Palamon, peace:
Ah, what can pictures be unto the life?
What sweetness can be found in images?
Which all nymphs else besides her seem to me.
She only was a real creature, she,
Whose memory must take up all of me.
Should I another love, then must I have
Another heart, for this is full of her,
And evermore shall be: here is she drawn
At length, and whole: and more, this table is
A story, and is all of her; and all
Wrought in the liveliest colours of my blood;
And can there be a room for others here?
Should I disfigure such a piece, and blot
The perfect'st workmanship that love e'er wrought?
Palæmon, no, ah no, it cost too dear;
It must remain entire whilst life remains,
The monument of her and of my pains.
There was sometimes a nymph,
Isulia named, and an Arcadian born,
Whose mother dying left her very young
Unto her father's charge, who carefully
Did breed her up, until she came to years
Of womanhood, and then provides a match
Both rich and young, and fit enough for her.
But she, who to another shepherd had,
Call'd Sirthis, vow'd her love, as unto one
Her heart esteem'd more worthy of her love,
Could not by all her father's means be wrought
To leave her choice, and to forget her vow.
This nymph one day, surcharg'd with love and grief,
Which commonly (the more the pity) dwell
As inmates both together, walking forth
With other maids to fish upon the shore;
Estrays apart, and leaves her company,
To entertain herself with her own thoughts:
And wanders on so far, and out of sight,
As she at length was suddenly surpris'd
By pirates, who lay lurking underneath
Those hollow rocks, expecting there some prize.
And notwithstanding all her piteous cries,
Intreaties, tears, and prayers, those fierce men
Rent hair and veil, and carried her by force
Into their ship, which in a little creek
Hard by at anchor lay,
And presently hoisted sail and so away.
When she was thus inshipp'd, and woefully
Had cast her eyes about to view that hell
Of horror, whereinto she was so sudden emplung'd, She spies a woman sitting with a child
Sucking her breast, which was the captain's wife.
To her she creeps, down at her feet she lies; "O woman, if that name of woman may
"Move you to pity, pity a poor maid,
"The most distressed soul that ever breath'd;
"And save me from the hands of these fierce men. "Let me not be defil'd and made unclean,
"Dear woman, now, and I will be to you
"The faithfull'st slave that ever mistress serv'd;
"Never poor soul shall be more dutiful,
"To do whatever you command, than I.
"No toil will I refuse; so that I may
Keep this poor body clean and undeflower'd, "Which is all I will ever seek. For know "It is not fear of death lays me thus low, "But of that stain will make my death to blush." All this would nothing move the woman's heart, Whom yet she would not leave, but still besought: "O woman, by that infant at your breast, "And by the pains it cost you in the birth, "Save me, as ever you desire to have
"Your babe to joy and prosper in the world: "Which will the better prosper sure, if you
"Shall mercy shew, which is with mercy paid!" Then kisses she her feet, then kisses too
The infant's feet; and, "Oh, sweet babe," (said she,)
"Could'st thou but to thy mother speak for me,
"And crave her to have pity on my case,
"Thou might'st perhaps prevail with her so much
"Although I cannot; child, ah, could'st thou speak."
The infant, whether by her touching it,
Or by instinct of nature, seeing her weep,
Looks earnestly upon her, and then looks
Upon the mother, then on her again,
And then it cries, and then on either looks:
Which she perceiving; "Blessed child," (said she,) Although thou canst not speak, yet dost thou cry "Unto thy mother for me. Hear thy child,
"Dear mother, hear, it is for me it cries,
"It's all the speech it hath. Accept those cries,
"Save me at his request from being defil'd:
"Let pity move thee, that thus moves thy child."
The woman, tho' by birth and custom rude,
Yet having veins of nature, could not be
But pierceable, did feel at length the point
Of pity enter so, as out gush'd tears,
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