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No, no, thou art secure; and mayst out-vie
Both them and all the world for cruelty!

"Oh, thou that gloriest in a heart of stone! Wilt thou not stay? yet seest (as if my moan They pitied) each rough bramble 'bout thy foot Does cling, and seems t' arrest thee at my suit? Ye gods! what wonders do you here disclose? The bramble hath more sweetness than the rose. "But whither fly these idle words? In vain, Poor, miserable wretch, thou dost complain, After so many ills, (of which I bear

The sadder marks yet in my heart.) Now hear,
Ye gods, at last! and by a welcome death
A period put unto my wretched breath.
Ah, me! I faint! my spirits quite decay!
And yet I cannot move her heart to stay.

Ye hellish deeps! black gulphs, where horror lies,
Open, and place yourselves before her eyes.
Had I Hippomenes' bright fruit, which stay'd
The swifter speed of the Schenaian maid,
They would not profit me; the world's round ball
Could not my cruel fugitive recall.

She is all rock, and I, who am all fire,
Pursue her night and day with vain desire.

O Nature! is it not a prodigy

To find a rock than fire more light to be?
But I mistake: for if a rock she were,
She'd answer me again as these do here."

Thus tir'd with running, and o'ercome with woę,
To see his mistress should out-strip him so,
Poor Lyrian yields himself as sorrow's prize,
His constancy and amorous fervour dies,
Bloody despair ent'ring his captiv'd soul,
Does like a tyrant all his powers control.
VOL. V.
C c

Then, in the height of woe, to his relief
He calls the gods; yet, in the midst of grief,
All fair respect does still to Sylvia give,

To show that ev'n in death his love should live.

He who for Daphne like regret did prove, [love,
And the horn'd god (who, breathless, thought his
The fair-hair'd Syrinx in his arms he clasp'd,
And slender reeds for her lov'd body grasp'd)
So far (rememb'ring their like amorous fate)
His unjust sufferings commiserate,

That both strait swore in passion, and disdain,
To punish the proud author of his pain:
Their powerful threats a like effect pursues;
See! that proud beauty a tree's shape endues!
Each of her hairs does sprout into a bough,
And she that was a nymph, an elm is now.

Whilst thus transform'd, her feet (to roots spread) Fast in the ground, she was at last o'ertook [stuck By panting Lyrian; happy yet, to see

Her he so priz'd within his power to be:

"Ye gods!" then says he, "who by this sad test
Have 'fore mine eyes Nature's great power exprest,
Grant that to this fair trunk, which love ne'er knew,
My heart may yet a love eternal shew."

This having said, unto the yet warm bole
He clings, (whilst a new form invests his soul)
Winding in thousand twines about it, whence
He's call'd of love the perfect symbol since.

In brief, this faithful lover now is found
An ivy stock; which, creeping from the ground
About the loved stem, still climbing is,
As if he sought her mouth to steal a kiss :
Each leaf's a heart, whose colour does imply
His wish obtain'd, love's perpetuity;

Which still his strict embraces evidence.
For all of him is lost but only sense,

And that you'd swear remains; and say (to see
The elm in his embraces hugg'd) that he,
Willing to keep what he had gain'd at last,
For fear she should escape, holds her so fast.

FORSAKEN LYDIA.

OUT OF THE ITALIAN OF CAVALIER MARINO.

IN thunder now the hollow cannon roar'd,
To call the far-fam'd warriors aboard,

Who that great feud (enkindled 'twixt the French
And German) with their blood attempt to quench.
Now in the open sea they proudly ride,

And the soft crystal with rude oars divide;
Perfidious Armillus at once tore

His heart from Lydia, anchor from the shore.

'Twas night, and aged Proteus had driv'n home His numerous herd, fleec'd with the sea's white

foam;

The winds were laid to rest, the fishes slept,
The wearied world a general silence kept,
No noise, save from the surges, hollow caves,
Or liquid silver of the justling waves, [light,
Whilst the bright lanthorns shot such trembling
As dazzled all the twinkling eyes of night.

The fair inamorata (who from far

Had spy'd the ship which her heart's treasure bare,
Put off from land; and now quite disembas'd,
Her cables coiled, and her anchors weigh'd,

Whilst gentle gales her swelling sails did court,
To turn in scorn her poop upon the port)
With frantic speed from the detested town
To the deserted shore comes hurrying down.
As the Idean shepherd stood amaz'd,
Whilst on the sacred ravisher he gaz'd,

Who snatch'd the beauteous Trojan youth away,
And wafted through the yielding clouds his prey:
Or as that artist whose bold hand durst shape
Wings to his shoulders, (desperately to 'scape
A loathed servitude) through untrac❜d skies
Crete's king pursu'd with fierce, yet wond'ring

eyes.

The flying navy Lydia so beheld,

Her eyes with tears, her heart with passion swell'd;
In sighs to these she gave continual vent,
And those in brinish streams profusely spent:
But tears and sighs, alas! bestows in vain,
Borne by the sportive wind to the deaf main,
The main, who grief inexorably mocks,
As she herself is scorn'd by steady rocks.

O! what a black eclipse did straight disguise
In clouds the sunshine of her lovely eyes!
She tore her cheeks, hair, garments, and imprest
Marks of his falsehood on her guiltless breast.
She calls on her disloyal lover's name,

And sends such sad loud accents to reclaim
The fugitive, as if at every cry

Her weary soul forth with her voice would fly.
"Whither, ah, cruel!" There full grief represt
Her tongue, and taught her eyes to weep the rest

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'Whither, ah, cruel!" from the hollow side Of the next rock the vocal nymph replied. In tears and sighs the water and the air Contend which in her sorrows most shall share; And the sad sea-horse with incessant groans Wakens her faint grief, and supplies her moans. "Oh! stop, kind Zephyr, but one minute's space, (She cries) "the swelling sail's impetuous race, That my expiring groans may reach the ear Of him who flies from her he will not hear! Perhaps, though whilst alive I cannot please, My dying cries his anger may appease; And my last fall, trophy of his disdain, May yield delight, and his lost love regain. "Receive my heart in this extreme farewell, Thou, in whom cruelty and beauty dwell: With thee it fled; but what, alas! for me Is it to lose my heart, who have lost thee? Thou art my better self! Thou of my heart, The soul, more than the soul that moves it, art: And if thou sentence me to suffer death, (My life) to thee let me resign my breath. "Alas! I do not ask to live content,

That were a blessing me Fate never meant;
All that my wishes aim at is, that I

(And that's but a poor wish) content may die ;
And if my heart, by thee already slain,
Some reliques yet of a loath'd life retain,
Oh! let them by thy pity find release,

And in thy arms breathe for their last in peace.
"No greater happiness than death I crave,
So in thy dearest sight I death may have ;

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