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Absence wounds me,
Was ever passion cross'd like mine?"
And not in dumps so doleful join!
How does my constant grief deface
No longer glows,
Has lost its scent:
The vernal blooms of various hue,
(Nature's softest, sweetest store)
Fly to my arms, my monarch, fly!"
How much more blest would lovers be,
O Rosamond, behold too late,
Curse this unhappy, guilty face,
Such cold complaints befit a nun:
"Beneath some hoary mountain
Where feather'd choirs combining
With gentle murm'ring streams, And winds in consort joining,
Raise sadly-pleasing dreams." [Exit. Ros.
What savage tiger would not pity
A damsel so distress'd and pretty!
But, hah! a sound my bower invades, [Trump. flour. And echoes through the winding shades; 'Tis Henry's march! the tune I know:
A messenger! It must be so.
MESSENGER AND SIR TRUSTY.
Great Henry comes! with love opprest;
From purple fields with slaughter spread,
From glorious and immortal toils,
The bower and lady both are drest,
Hither the victor flies, (his queen
Soon as the British shores he reached,
The message that himself hath sent!
Here I will stand
With hat in hand,
Obsequiously to meet him,
And must endeavour
That's suitable to greet him.
Enter King Henry after a flourish of trumpets.
Where is my love! my Rosamond!
First, as in strictest duty bound,
Where is my life! my Rosamond?
Next with submission most profound,
Where is the tender, charming fair?
Let me, appear, great Sir, I pray,
Where is my love, O tell me where?
For when we have a prince's ear,
To know what's fit
For us to speak, and him to hear.
These dull delays I cannot bear.
I speak, great Sir, with weeping eyes,
What dost thou say? I shake with fear.
Nay, good my liege, with patience hear.
"Was ever nymph like Rosamond,
My heart's on fire,
And leaps and springs to her embrace."
At the sight of her lover
What place will you chuse
Full in the centre of the grove,
To guard the bower, and watch the gate.
But pleasure reign through all
"O the pleasing, pleasing anguish, When we love, and when we languish! Wishes rising!
O the pleasing, pleasing anguish!"