I stoop'd and bow'd, and bafely was enflav'd;
But ftill thy magic charms I ne'er perceiv'd.
The pois'nous ftreams that darted from thine eyes
Still dimm'd my fight, and mask'd my miseries:
Thy joys did furfeit and debase my foul,
And all its nobler flights of love controul:
That charming Fair, which heav'n defign'd for me,
Poor wretched I, contemn'd, and all for thee.
Drunk with love's magic potion I did run,
And roving mad, Urania's beauty fhun.
But now I feel, I feel the heav'nly dart
Has reach'd my foul at last, and pierc'd my heart.
O! then, thou base enchantress of my mind,
Be gone, be gone, and get thee far behind.
Cofmelia, (to her nymphs.)
See how he scorns my fmiles, difdains my loves,
And with what eager flights he foreward moves.
I'll yet advance, and all my charms difplay,
And try once more if I can court his stay.
Mean time tune up your ftrings, advance in pairs,
And melt his foul with foft and am'rous airs;
Disclose your balmy stores, let odours fly,
And with perfumed fcents deluge the sky.
The wanton ftreams which on yon plains you fee,
Break down their banks, and let them all
go free ;
Cut out new channels, let all riv’lets glide,
Meet and concentre, make a chrystal tide
Juft where the youth doth run; and if he stay,
Beneath his feet sweet flow'rs and rofes lay.
Then all with wanton fmiles begin the dance;
And while you play before him, I'll advance.
Pathetas.
Dear Strephon stop, Cofmelia does pursue,
And Paradife is open'd to your view.
O do not fhun a heav'n, a present bliss,
For fome far diftant pleasures after this.
All's but amusement, and a gilded show;
And when the charm's unmask'd, you'll find it fo.
Pathetas.
Can what we handle, joys that we perceive,
Delights we taste and feel, our fenfe deceive?
No fure or if they could, what then? if pleasures flow
From hugging phantons, grasping at a fhow,
The matter's ftill the fame; we taste a blifs,
And what would you have more than happiness ?
Strephon.
Did I no more than joys and fweets purfue,
Had I no nobler object in my view;
That charming beauty whom I long to fee,
look could dart a heav'n to me.
every
But ah! 'tis more than blifs to which I move,
'Tis fomething more divine I mean to love.
Cofmelia's nymphs.
Surprifing! ftrange! he fcorns Pathetas' crics,
And with difdain Cofmelia's love he flies !
In vain we stop his flights, or court his stay,
Since with fuch eager leaps he fprings away.
W'ell turn again, and let Cofmelia know
How much he hates, how much he is her foe.
Cofmelia, (to them returning.)
Ah! have you charm'd his ftay, or does he prove
As yet untouch'd, regardless of my love?
Oh! can he still my foft embraces fly?
Tell me, oh! tell me; tell me, elle Í dye.
Nymphs.
Yes, ftill he fcorns your tears, he's still unkind,
And all your am'rous fuits he has declin'd.
He won't one look, one tranfient glance bestow
On all the joyful fcenes we've opened now.
We tun'd our strings, and, in foft melting ftrains,
Told what bleft raptures the tranfported fwains
Feel in your loves on yonder diftant plains.
We mounted still the note, and rais'd our voice,
The diftant woods ftill echoing back the noise;
With fweet foft flowing numbers fill'd the skies,
Enough to melt his foul int' ecstafies.
Each note breath'd rapture, and each quiv'ring found,
Each trembling fhake was with fuch beauty crown'd,
That all the wingy train stopt on their way,
And down before us in the fun-beams lay.
Charm'd with the melting notes they heard us play,
Then mounting all on high, they join'd in pairs,
And ftrove to match us with harmonious airs.
Still as we fung, ftill they renew'd their art,
And in foft warbles play'd the counter-part.
Nature did all her harmonies bestow,
And a new paradife was opened now.
Loud whistling winds Cofmelia's fighs convey'd,
And in high treble notes her loves display'd;
While gentler streams glide foftly on their way,
And a grave bass in murmuring fonnets play.
Each rofy morn new fcenes we did prepare,
And all our virgin-fancies acted there;
And when the fable dark return'd the night,
We wanton'd round, and play'd before his fight.
We follow'd still, ftill he his flights renew'd,
And still the more he ran, the fafter we purfu'd.
Breathless and spent at last, he stopt his pace,
And, bending down, lay proftrate on his face:
Then with looks bended upward he began,
Thus to lament, just like the dying fwan.
“ Urania, ah! Urania lend an ear
"To thy poor panting lover profstrate here;
"Revive my fainting foul, regard my moans,
"My dying fighs, and my repeated groans.
"Oh! fhall Cofmelia yet triumphant be,
"And ravish this poor ftruggling heart from thee?
"Oh! no, oh! no, O rather stop my breath,
"And let me fink into the arms of death,
"'Ere the embrace my foul, 'ere ought my paffions move,
"But only thou and thy diviner love!
Scarce had he spoke, when fetter'd arrows fly,
And winged darts encount'ring in the sky
Struck down the warb'ling throng, pierc'd thro' their
And drown'd in dying fhrieks their fofter notes. [throats But ah! what shall we fay? this was not all,
We faw the poor Pathetas also fall
A victim to a fierce and cruel dart,
That fheath'd itself into his panting heart.
Wallowing in gore he lay, till from the wound
His fainting foul gasp'd out upon the ground.
We, fearing the fame fate, began to fly,
And let our filent harps neglected lye;
And now we're fcarce efcap'd to let thee know
The difmal story, the fad scene of woe.
Ga
Plagues and destruction feize his rocky foul,
That thus can scorn my charms, my loves controul.
Too long, too long with fmiles I did pursue;
I'll try what vengeance and my wrath can do.
In floods of torments I'll deluge his foul,
And in a thousand hells I'll make him roul.
Go fummon Damon, and the stygian rout
To muster here; and as they wrestle out
From their infernal dens, with roring found,
Let all the rocks their bellowing noise refound;
Then burft and break, in forked lightnings fly,
And overspread the place where he does lye.
The tortur'd youth, thus ftruck, fhall grov'ling (praul,
And then on every hand for fuccour call.
See that ye lend him none; but let his foul
Amidst the furious ftorins thus tofs and roul.
See that his tears do not your wrath appease,
But wound and crush him; let him have no ease.
Starve him with wants, plague him with
And rack his tortur'd breast with infamy.
Pierce, pierce him thro'; ftrike home, repeat the blow,
And still the more you strike, more cruel grow.
Let all his outward toils and torments be,
But fainter emblems of that agony
He feels within; let him, thus cram'd with woe,
Thus drunk with mis'ry, ftagg'ring to and fro,
Strive to difgorge and vomit out his foul;
But O, refift his motions, and controul,
And pull and tug it back, and chain it to the goal.
Weary and spend him out; let him not have
The fweet repofe and filence of the
grave,
Perhaps he'll calm at last, and hear my cries,
And court my fimiles again with dropping eyes.
Perhaps he'll curfe Urania, who allows
Him to be thus prest down with mighty woes.
Strephon.
What strange reverse is this? where am I now ?
From whence the tempefts that around me flow?
Without, within, and all on every hand,
Enclos'd in mifts and darkness now I ftand.
I am all night, no courteous gleams arife
To ufher in the day, or gild my fable skies.
But ah! why do I mourn? how can I drop a tear
For all the griefs and plagues I fuffer here?
Did not Urania, when fhe ftoop'd below,
A thousand hells and tortures undergo ?
O yes, dear nymph, what hells, what killing pains
Rackt thy fweet tender foul on yonder plains?
When like fome fellow-fwain thou didst appear,
Difguis'd and veil'd, and whisper'dit in my ear,
"Ŏ come forfake Cofmelia, and pursue
"The nobler blifs I have defign'd for you?
How did th' enraged youths begin to cry,
Cofmelia's rival'd, and the traitor's nigh?
First from the temple their dire yells began,
Rebounding thence, from plain to plain they ran :
The hollow woods the echoing found repay,
And still the master-note was crucify.
How did they crush, and pierce, and wound thy foul,
And fcourge, and tofs, and drag thee to the goal?
How waft thou mock'd and scorn'd, and made the jeft,
While black and doleful griefs delug'd thy breast!
With what dire malice did they vent their rage,
When with derifion they erect a stage,
Dragg'd thee thereon, then weav'd a thorny crown,
Which pierc'd thy fweeting temples, made thee groan,
Till fcarlet drops of blood came trickling down?
With dire revengeful blows they pierc'd thy fide,
Till purple streams from every wound did glide :
Struck down thy throbbing heart with stunning pain,
And chas'd thy fading life from vein to vein.
To nature's out-works then at last it fled,
And then thou stoop'dft, and bending down thy head,
Breath'd thus in fighs, See what I've done for thee;
O! then take up thy crofs and follow me.
And fhall I yet lament? Dare I complain
That I am tortur'd thus, and rack'd with pain?
Ah! no, ah! no, all filent here I'll lye,
And pant and breathe to heaven, love on and dy.
And can you love her ftill? Ah! can your flame
Be unextinguish'd yet, tho' fhe disclaim,
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