Soon as the morning left her rofy bed,
And all heaven's fmaller lights were driven away,
She, by her friends and near acquaintance led,
Like other maids, would walk at break of day:

Aurora blufh'd to fee a fight unknown,

To behold cheeks more beauteous than her own.

Th' obfequious lover follows ftill her train,
And where they go, that way his journey feigns:
Should they turn back, he would turn back again;
For with his love, his bufinefs does remain.

Nor is it ftrange he fhould be loth to part

From her, whofe eyes had ftole away his heart.

Philetus he was call'd, fprung from a race
Of noble ancestors; but greedy Time
And envious Fate had labour'd to deface
The glory which in his great flock did fhine:
Small his eftate, unfitting her degree;

But blinded Love could no fuch difference fee.

Yet he by chance had hit his heart aright,
And dipt his arrow in Conftantia's eyes,
Blowing a fire that wonid destroy him quite,
Unlefs fuch flames within her heart should rife.
But yet he fears, becaufe he blinded is,
Though he have fhot him right, her heart he'll

mifs.

Unto Love's altar therefore he repairs,
And offers up a pleating facrifice;
Intreating Cupid, with inducing prayers,
To look upon and eafe his miferies :

Where having wept, recovering breath again, Thus to immortal Love he did complain : "Oh, mighty Cupid! whofe unbounded fway "Hath often rul'd th' Olympian thunderer; "Whorn all cæleftial deities obey;

Whom men and gods both reverence and fear! "Oh force Conftantia's heart to yield to love! ، Of all thy works the mafter-picce 'twill prove. And let me not affection vainly spend,

But kindle flames in her like thofe in me; "Yet if that gift my fortune doth transcend, "Grant that her charming beauty I may fee! "For ever view thofe eyes, whofe charming light,

"More than the world befides, does please my fight.

"Those who contemn thy facred deity,

Laugh at thy power, make them thine anger

know:

"I faultlefs am; what honour can it be,
"Only to wound your flave, and spare your foe?"
Here tears and fighs fpeak his imperfect moan,
In language far more moving than his own.
Home he retir'd, his foul he brought not home;
Juft like a fhip, while every mounting wave
Tofs'd by enraged Boreas up and down,
Threatens the mariner with a gaping grave;
Such did his cafe, fuch did his ftate appear,
Alike distracted between hope and fear.
Thinking her love he never fhall obtain,

One morn he haunts the woods, and doth complain

Filling with legions of fresh thoughts his mind.
He quarrels with himfelf, because his woes
Spring from himself, yet can no medicine find:

He weeps to quench the fires that burn in him, But tear do fall to th' earth, flames are within.

No morning banish'd darknefs, nor black night
By her alternate courfe expell'd the day,
In which Philetus by a constant rite
At Cupid's altars did not weep and pray;
And yet he nothing reap'd for all his pain,,
But care and forrow was his only gain.
But now at laft the pitying God, o'ercome
By conftant votes and tears, fix'd in her heart
A golden shaft, and fhe is now become
A fuppliant to Love, that with like dart

He'd wound Philetus; does with tears implore Aid from that power fhe fo much fcori'd before.

Little fhe thinks fhe kept Philetus' heart

In her fcorch'd breaft, because her own she gave

To him. Since either fuffers equal smart,
And a like measure in their torments have:
His foul, his griefs, his fires, now her's are
grown:

Her heart, her mind, her love, is his alone. Whilt thoughts 'gainst thoughts rife up in mu tiny,

She took a lute (being far from any ears)
And tun'd this fong, pofing that harmony
Which poets attribute to heavenly spheres.
Thus had the fung when her dear love was
flain,

She'd furely call'd him back from Styx again.

I willingly would weep my store,

If th flood would land thy love,
My dear Philetus, on the shore

Of my heart; but, fhould'ft thou prove
Afraid of flames, know the fires are
But bonfires for thy coming there.

THEN tears in envy of her speech did flow
From her fair eyes, as if it feem'd that there
Her burning flame had melted hills of fnow,
And fo diffolv'd them into many a tear;

Which, Nilus-like, did quickly overflow,
And quickly caus'd new ferpent griefs to grow.
Here ftay, my Mufe; for if I thould recite
Her mournful language, I thould make you weep,
Like her, a flood, and so not fee to write
Such lines as 1, and th' age requires, to keep

Me from ftern death, or with victorious rhyme
Revenge their matter's death, and conquer
Time.

By this time, chance and his own industry
Had help'd Philetus forward, that he grew
Acquainted with her brother, fo that he
Might, by this means, his bright Conftantia view;
And, as time ferv'd, fhew'd her his mifery:
This was the first act in his tragedy.

Thus to himself, footh'd by his flattering state,
He faid; "How fhall I think thee for this gain

"O Cupid! or reward my helping fate, "Which sweetens all my forrows, all my pain? "What hufbandman would any pains refufe, "To reap at laft fuch fruit, his labour's ufe?" But, when he wifely weigh'd his doubtful frate, Seeing his griefs link'd like an endless chain To following woes, he would when 'twas too late Quench his hot flames, and idle love diflain.

But Cupid, when his heart was fet on fire,
Had burnt his wings, who could not then re-
tire.

The wounded youth and kind Philocrates
(So was her brother call'd) grew foon fo dear,
So true and conftant in their amities,
And in that league fo ftrictly joined were,

That death itfelf could not their friendship fe

ver,

But, as they liv'd in love, they died together.
If one be melancholy, th' other 's fad ;
If one be fick, the other 's furely ill;
And if Philetus any furrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it ftill:

Pylades' foul, and mad Oreftes', was
In thefe, if we believe Pythagoras.

Oft in the woods Philetus walks, and there
Exclaims against his fate, fate too unkind:
With fpeaking tears his griefs he doth declare,
And with fad fighs inf. cts the angry wind

To figh; and did ev'n upon that prevail;
It groan'd to hear Philetus' mournful tale.
The cryftal brooks, which gently run between
The fhadowing trees, and, as they through them

pafs,

Water the earth, and keep the meadows green,
Giving a colour to the verdant grafs,

Hearing Philetus tell his woeful flate,

In fhew of grief run murmuring at his fate.
Philomel anfwers him again, and fhews,
In her beft language, her fad history,
And in a mournful fweetnefs tells her woes,
Denying to be pos'd in mifery:

Conftantia he, fhe Tereus, Tereus, cries;
With him both grief, and grief's expreffion,
vies.

Philocrates muft needs his fadness know,

Willing in ills, as well as joys, to share,
Nor will on them the name of friends beftow,
Who in light fport, not forrow, partners are.

Who leaves to guide the ship when ftorms arife,
Is guilty both of fin and cowardice.
But when his noble friend perceiv'd that he
Yielded to tyrant paffion more and more,
Defirous to partake his malady,
He watches him, in hope to cure his fore

Ey counfel, and recall the poisonous dart, When it, alas! was fixed in his heart. When in the woods, places beft fit for care, He to himself did his paft griefs recite, Th' obfequious friend ftrait follows him, and there

Doth hide himself from fad Piletus' fight;

Who thus exclaims (for a fwoln heart would break,

If it for vent of forrow might not (peak):

"Oh! I am loft, not in this defart wood, "But in Love's pathlefs labyrinth; there I "My health, each joy and pleasure counted good, "Have loft, and, which is more, my liberty; "And now.am forc'd to let him facrifice "My heart, for rafh believing of my eyes. "Long have I ftaid, but yet have no relief; "Long have I lov'd, yet have no favour shown; "Because she knows not of my killing grief, "And I have fear'd to make my forrows known. "For why, alas! if the fhould once but dart "Difdainful looks, 'twould break my captiv'd heart.

"But how should fhe, ere I impart my love, "Reward my ardent flame with like defire? "But when I fpeak, if the fhould angry prove, "Laugh at my flowing tears, and fcorn my fire; "Why, he who hath all forrows borne before, "Needeth not fear to be oppreft with more."

Philocrates no longer can forbear, Runs to his friend, and fighing, "Oh!" faid he, "My dear Philetus! be thy felf, and swear "To rule that paffion which now masters thee,

"And all thy reason; but, if it can't be, "Give to thy love but eyes, that it may fee." Amazement ftrikes him dumb; what fhall he do?

Should he reveal his love, he fears 'twould prove
A hindrance; and, fhould he deny to show,
It might perhaps his dear friend's anger move:

Thefe doubts, like Scylla and Charybdis, stand, Whilft Cupid, a blind pilot, doth command. At laft refolv'd: "How fhall I feek," faid he, "T' excufe myself, deareft Philocrates! "That I from thee have hid this fecrecy? "Yet cenfure not; give ine firfl leave to cafe "My cafe with words: my grief you should have known

"Ere this, if that my heart had been my own. "I am all love; my heart was burnt with fire "From two bright funs, which do all light difclofe;

"First kindling in my breast the flare Defire: But, like the rare Arabian bird, there rofe "From my heart's afhes never-quenched Love, "Which now this torment in my foul doth

move.

"Oh! let not then my paffion cause your hate, "Nor let my choice offend you, or detain "Your ancient friendship; 'tis, alas! too late To call my firm affe&ion back again': "No phyfick can re-cure my weaken'd ftate, "The wound is grown too great, too defperate."

"But counfel," faid his friend," a remedy

Which never fails the patient, may at least, "If not quite heal your mind's infirmity, "Afluage your torment, and procure fome reft.

"But there is no physician can apply "A medicine ere he know the malady." "Then hear me," said Philetus; "but why?

Stay,
"I will not toil thee with my history;
"For to remember forrows pall away,
"Is to renew an old calamity.

"He who acquainteth others with his moan,
"Adds to his friend's grief, but not cures his
own."

"But," faid Philocrates, " 'tis beft, in woc,
"To have a faithful partner of their care;
"That burthen may be undergone by two,
"Which is perhaps too great for one to bear.

"I fhould miftruft your love, to hide from me "Your thoughts, and tax you of inconstancy." What fhall he do? or with what language frame Excufe? He must refolve not to deny, But open his close thoughts and inward flame: With that, as prologue to his tragedy,

He figh'd, as if they'd cool his torments' ire When they, alas' did blow the raging fire. "When years firft ftyl'd me twenty, I began "To fport with catching fnares that Love had fet: "Like birds that flutter round the gin, tili ta'en, "Or the poor fly caught in Arachne's net,

"Even fo I fported with her beauty's light, "Till I at laft grew blind with too much fight. "First it came ftealing on me, whilft I thought ""Twas eafy to rcpel it; but as fire, "Though but a fpark, foon into flames is brought, "So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher;

"Which fo have fcorch'd my love-ftruck foul, that I

"Still live in torment, yet each minute die." "Who is it," faid Philocrates," can move "With charming eyes fuch deep affection? "I may perhaps affift you in your love; "Two can effect more than yourself alone. My counsel this thy error may reclaim, "Or my falt tears quench thy deftructive flame"

"Nay," faid Philetus," oft my eyes do flow
"Like Nilus when it fcorns th' oppofed fhore;
"Yet all the watery plenty I bestow,
"Is to my flame an oil that feeds it more.

"So fame reports o' th' Dodonéan spring, "That lightens all those which are put therein. "But, being your defire to know her, she "Is call'd" (with that his eyes let fall a fhower, As if they fain would drown the memory Of his life-keeper's name)" Conftantia-" More Grief would not let him utter; tears, the best Expreffers of true forrow, fpoke the rest.

To which his noble friend did thus reply: "And was this all? Whate'er your grief would eafe,

"Though a far greater task, believe 't for thee "It fhould be foon done by Philocrates:

Think all you wish perform'd; but see, the day, "Tir'd with its heat, is hafting now away!"

Home from the filent woods night bids them go :
But fad Philetus can no comfort find;
What in the day he fears of future woe,
At night in dreams, like truth, affrights his mind.
Why doft thou vex him, Love? Could't thou
but fee,

Thou would't thyself Philetus' rival be.
Philocrates, pitying his doleful moan,
And wounded with the forrows of his friend,
Brings him to fair Conftantia; where alone
He might impart his love, and either end

His fruitless hopes, nipt by her coy difdain, Or, by her liking, his wifht joys attain. "Faireft," faid he," whom the bright heavens do cover,

"Do not these tears, thefe fpeaking tears, defpife! "These heaving fighs of a fubmissive lover,

Thus ftruck to th' earth by your all-dazzling eyes!

"And do you not contemn that ardent flame, "Which from yourfelf, your own fair beauty, came!

"Truft me, I long have hid my love; but now

Am forc'd to fhow 't, fuch is my inward smart! "And you alone, fair Saint! the means do know "To heal the wound of my confuming heart.

"Then, fince it only in your power doth lie "To kill or fave, Oh! help, or else I die." His gently cruel love did thus reply; "I for your pain am grieved, and would do,

Without impeachment of my chastity "And honour, any thing might pleasure you. "But, if beyond thofe limits you demand, "I must not anfwer, Sir, nor understand."

"Believe me, virtuous maiden! my defire "Is chate and pious as thy virgin thought; "No flash of luft, 'tis no difhoneft fire, "Which goes as foon as it was quickly brought; "But as thy beauty pure; which let not be "Eclipfed by difdain and cruelty!

"Oh! how shall I reply?" fhe cry'd, "thou 'ft

won

"My foul, and therefore take thy victory:
"Thy eyes and fpeeches have my heart o'ercome,
"And if I should deny thee love, then I

"Should be a tyrant to myself: that fire
"Which is kept clofe burns with the greatest
ire.

"Yet do not count my yielding lightnefs, now;
"Impute it rather to my ardent love;
"Thy pleafing carriage won me long ago,

And pleading beauty did my liking move;
"Thy eyes, which draw like loadftones with
their might

"The hardest hearts, won mine to leave me
quite."

"Oh! I am rapt above the reach," faid he,

Of thought; my foul already feels the blifs

"Of heaven: when, Sweet, my thoughts once tax but thee

"With any crime, may I lofe all happiness

"Is with'd for: both your favour here, and dead,

"May the juft gods pour vengeance on my
head!"

Whilft he was fpeaking this (behold their fate!)
Conftantia's father enter'd in the room,
When glad Philetus, ignorant of his ftate,
Kiffes her cheeks, more red than fetting fun,
Or else the morn, blushing through clouds of
water,

To fee afcending Sol congratulate her.

Just as the guilty prifoner fearful ftands,
Reading his fatal Theta in the brows

Of him who both his life and death commands,
Ere from his mouth he the fad fentence knows:
Such was his ftate to fee her father come,
Nor wifh'd-for, nor expected, in the room.
Th' enrag'd old man bids him no more to dare
Such bold intrufion in that house, nor be
At any time with his lov'd daughter there,
Till he had given him fuch authority:

But to depart, fince fhe her love did fhew him,
Was living death, with lingering torments to

him.

I TRUST, dear foul, my abfence cannot move
You to forget or doubt my ardent love;
For, were there any means to fee you, I
Would run through death, and all the mifery
Fate could inflict; that fo the world might fay,
In life and death I lov'd Conftantia.

Then let not, deareft Sweet, our abfence part
Our loves, but each breaft keep the other's heart;
Give warmth to one another, till there rife
From all our labours and our industries
The long-expected fruits: have patience, Sweet,
There's no man whom the fummer pleafures greet
Before he taste the winter; none can fay,
Ere night was gone, he faw the rifing day.
So, when we once have wafted forrow's night,
The fun of comfort then fhall give us light.
PHILETUS.

This, when Conftantia read, fhe thought her fate
Moft happy, by Philetus' conftancy
And perfect love: fhe thanks her flattering fate,
Kifles the paper, till with killing the

The welcome characters doth dull and ftain:
Then thus with ink and tears writes back again.

YOUR abfence, Sir, though it be long, yet I
Neither forget nor doubt your conftancy.
Nor need you fear that I fhould yield unto
Another, what to your true love is duc.
My heart is yours; it is not in my claim,"
Nor have I power to take it back again.
There's nought but death can part our fouls; no
tinie,

Or angry friends, fhall make my love decline:
But for the harvest of our hopes I'll stay,
Unless death cut it, ere 'tis ripe, away.

CONSTANTIA.

Oh! how this letter feem'd to raise his pride!
Prouder was he of this than Phaeton,
When he did Phabus' flaming chariot guide,
Unknowing of the danger was to come:

Prouder than Jafon, when from Colchos he
Returned with the fleece's victory.

But ere the autumn, which fair Ceres crown'd,
Had paid the fweating plowman's grecdiest prayer,
And by the fall difrob'd the gaudy ground
Of all thofe ornaments it us'd to wear;

Them kind Philocrates t' each other brought,
Where they this means t' enjoy their freedom
wrought.

"Sweet fair-one," faid Philetus, "fince the time
"Favours our wish, and does afford us leave
"T' enjoy our loves; oh, let us not refigu
"This long'd-for favour, nor ourfelves bereave
"Of what we wifh'd for, Opportunity,
"That may too foon the wings of love put-
fly!

"For when your father, as his custom is,
"For pleasure doth pursue the timorous hare,
"If you'll refort but thither, I'll not mifs
"To be in thofe woods ready for you, where

"We may depart in fafety, and no more
"With dreams of pleasure only, heal cur fore."

To this the happy lovers foon agree;
But, ere they part, Philetus begs to hear,
From her inchanting voice's melody,
One fong to fatisfy his longing ear:

She yields; and, finging added to defire,
The liftening youth increas'd his amorous fire.

III.

Then, though death's fad night appear,
And we in lonely filence rest ;
Our ravish'd fouls no more fhall fear,
But with lafting day be bleft.

IV.

And then no friends can part us more,
For no new death extend its power;
Thus there's nothing can diffever
Hearts which love hath join'd together.
FEAR of being feen, Philetus homeward drove,
But ere they part the willingly doth give
(As faithful pledges of her conftant love).
Many a foft kifs; then they each other leave,
Rapt up with fecret joy that they have found
A way to heal the torment of their wound.
But, ere the fun through many days had run,
Conftantia's charming beauty had o'ercome
Guifardo's heart, and fcorn'd affection won;
Her eyes foon conquer'd all they fhone upon,
Shot through his wounded heart fuch hot de-
fire,

As nothing but her love could quench the fire.
In roofs which gold and Parian stone adorn
(Proud as the owner's mind) he did abound;
In fields fo fertile for their yearly corn,

As might contend with fcorch'd Calabria's ground;
But in his foul, that fhould contain the store
Of fureft riches, he was bafe and poor.
Him was Conftantia urg'd continually,
By' her friends, to love: fometimes they did in-

treat

With gentle speeches and mild courtesy;
Which when they fee defpis'd by her, they threat,
But love too deep was feated in her heart,
To be worn-out by thought of any smart.
Soon did her father to the woods repair,
To feek for fport, and hunt the ftarted game;
Guifardo and Philocrates were there,
With many friends too tedious here to name :

With them Conftantia went, but not to find
The bear or wolf, but Love all mild and kind.
Being enter'd in the pathlefs woods, while they
Pursue their game, Philetus, who was late
Hid in a thicket, carries straight away
His love, and haftens his own hafty fate;

That came too foon upon him; and his fun
Was quite eclips'd before it fully fhone.
Conftantia mifs'd, the hunters in amaze
Take each a feveral courfe, and by curft fate
Gufardo runs, with a love-carried pace,
Tow'rds them, who little knew their woeful
ftate:

Philetus, like bold Icarus, foaring high
To honours, found the depth of mifery.
For when Guifardo fees his rival there,
Swelling with envious rage, he comes behind
Philetus, who fuch fortune did not fear,
And with his fword a way to 's heart does find.
But, ere his fpirits were poffefst of death,
In thefe few words he spent his latest breath: