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النشر الإلكتروني

LYCIDAS.

LAURA.

LYCIDAS

Thy once-loy'd friend. Yetere I cease to live, Of thy once dear Dione? With war care
Canst thou a wretched penitent forgive?

Sunk are those eyes, and livid with despair!
DIONT.
When low beneath the fable mould I reft;

Dione 1
May a sincerer friendship share thy breaft!
Why are those heaving groans (ah! cease to weep!)

-There pure constancy lies dead !
May my loft name in dark oblivion deep ;
Let this fad tale no speaking stune declare,

May!Heaven shower vengeance on this perjur'd head!
From future eyes to draw a pitying tear.

As the dry branch that withers on the ground, Let o'er my grave the levelling plough-share pass, So, blatted be the hand that gave the wound! Mark not the spot ;, forget that e'er I was.

Off; hold me not. This heart deserves the stroke; Then may'st thou with Parthenia's love be blest, 'Tis black with treachery. Yes : the vows are And not one thought on me thy joys moleit!

broke

[Stabs himjelf My swimming eyes are overpower'd with light, Which I fo oftem swore. Vain world adieu! And darkening shadows Reet before my sight: Tho' I was false in life, in death I'm true. [Dies, May'st thou be happy! ah ! my soul is free. [Dies. O cruel shepherdess, for love of thee (To Parthenia. To-morrow shall the funeral rites, be paid, This fatal dead was done.

And these Love-victims in one grave be laid.

LAURA.

PARTHENIA.

SCENE THE LAST.

There shall the yew her fable branches spread,
And mournful cypress rear her fringed head.

LAURA.

LYCIDAS, PARTHINIA, LAURA.

LAVRA.

La Alexis Sain!

LYCIDAS.
Yes. 'Twas I did it. See this crimson stain!
My hands with blood of innocence are dy'd.
O may the moon her filver beauty hide
In rolling clouds! my foul abhors the light;
shade, thade the murderer in cternal night!

LAURA.
No rival thepherd is before thee laid ;
There bled the chastest, the sincerelt maid
That ever figh'd for love, On her pale face;
Cannot thy weeping eyes the feature tráce

From thence shall thyme and myrtle fend perfume
And laurel ever-green o'erlhade the tomb.

PARTHENIA.
Come, Laura,, let us leave this horrid wood,
Where streams the purple grass wich lovers' blood;
Come to my bower. And, as we Corrowing go,
Let poor Dione's story feed my woe
With heart-selieving tears.-

LAURA. [Pointing to Diones

Unhappy maid!
Hadft thou a parent's just command obey'd,
Thou yet hadít liv’d: But who shall Love advise?!
Love scorns command, and breaks all other ties.
Hestceforth, ye swains, be true to vows profest;
For certain vengeance strikes the perjur'd breast

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