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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 blush'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 should be loth to part
From her, whofe eyes had stole away his heart.
Philetus he was call'd, sprung from a race
Of noble ancestors; but greedy Time
And envious Fate had labour'd to deface
The glory which in his great stock did shine :
Small his eftate, unfitting her degree;
But blinded Love could no fuch difference fec.

Yet he by chance had hit his heart aright,
And dipt his arrow in Conftantia's eyes,
Blowing a fire that would destroy him quite,
Unless fuch flames within her heart fhould rife.
But yet he fears, because 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 pleafing facrifice;
Intreating Cupid, with inducing prayers,
To look upon and ease his miseries:

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; "Whom all cœlestial deities obey ;

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Whom men and gods both reverence and fear! "Oh force Conftantia's heart to yield to love! "Of all thy works the master-piece '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.

"Thofe who contemn thy facred deity,

"Laugh at thy power, make them thine anger know:

"I faultless am; what honour can it be,
"Only to wound your flave, and fpare 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;
Just 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 fiate appear,
Alike distracted between hope and fear.

Thinking her love he never fhall obtain,

One morn he haunts the woods, and doth conplain

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"For why? thy idle words are of no weight." "WEIGHT," fhe answers. "Therefore I'll depart."

To which refounding Echo answers, "PART." THEN from the woods with wounded heart he gocs,

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

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

No morning banifh'd darkness, nor black night
By her alternate courfe expell'd the day,
In which Philetus by a conftant 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 fhaft, 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 the fo much fcorn'd be-
fore.

Little fhe thinks fhe kept Philetus' heart

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

To him. Since either fuffers equal smart,

And a like mcafure in their torments have: His foul, his griefs, his fires, now her's are grown :

Her heart, her mind, her love, is his alone. Whilft thoughts 'gainst thoughts rife up in mutiny,

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.

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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 fhould recite
Her mournful language, I should make you weep,
Like her, a flood, and fo not fee to write
Such lines as I, and th' age requires, to keep

Me from ftern death, or with victorious rhyme
Revenge their master'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 thank thee for this gain

"O Cupid! or reward my helping fate,
"Which sweetens all my forrows, all my pain?
"What husbandman would any pains refufe,
"To reap at last such fruit, his labour's use?”
But, when he wifely weigh'd his doubtful state,
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 difdain.

But Cupid, when his heart was set 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 itself could not their friendship fc

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 forrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it fill:

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 speaking tears his griefs he doth declare,
And with fad fighs inftructs the angry wind

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

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Philocrates muft needs his fadnefs know,

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

Who leaves to guide the fhip when storms 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

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

there

Doth hide himself from fad Philetus' fight;

Who thus exclaims (for a fwoln heart would break,

If it for vent of forrow might not speak): "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 fhown; Because fhe knows not of my killing grief, "And I have fear'd to make my forrows known.

"For why, alas! if she should 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 should 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."

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

"And all thy reafon; 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," said he, "T' excufe myself, dearest Philocrates! "That I from thee have hid this fecrecy? "Yet cenfure not; give me firit leave to cafe "My cafe with words: my grief you should

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"Oh! let not then my paffion cause your hate,
"Nor let my choice offend you, or detain
"Your ancient friendfhip; 'tis, alas! too late
"To call my firm affe&ion back again :

"No phylick can re-cure my weaken'd state,
"The wound is grown too great, too defpe-
rate."

But counfel," faid his friend, " a remedy "Which never fails the patient, måy at least, "If not quite heal your mind's infirmity,

Affuage your torment, and procure some rest.

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"But," faid Philocrates, " 'tis beft, in woe,
"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 should mistrust your love, to hide from me "Your thoughts, and tax you of inconftancy." What shall he do? or with what language frame Excufe? He must refolve not to deny,

But open his clofe 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 first ftyl'd me twenty, I began "To sport with catching snares 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 repel it; but as fire, "Though but a fpark, foon into flames is brought, "So mine grew great, and quickly mounted higher;

"Which so have scorch'd my love-ftruck foul, that I

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Nay," faid Philetus," oft my eyes do flow "Like Nilus when it fcorns th' opposed shore; "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, fhe "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 reft.

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 should 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'st 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 disdain, Or, by her liking, his wifht joys attain. "Faireft," faid he, "whom the bright heavens do cover,

“Do not these tears, these speaking tears, despise ! "Thefe heaving fighs of a fubmiffive lover, "Thus ftruck to th' earth by your all-dazzling eyes!

And do you not coatemn that ardent flame, "Which from yourself, your own fair beauty,

came!

« Trust me, I long have hid my love; but now * Am forc'd to show '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 those limits you demand, "I must not answer, Sir, nor understand." "Believe me, virtuous maiden! my defire "Ischafte 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!

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Whilft he was fpeaking this (hehold their fate!)
Conftantia's father enter'd in the room,
When glad Philetus, ignorant of his state,
Kifles 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 stands,
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, since she her love did fhew him,
Was living death, with lingering torments to

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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 induftries
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,
Kiffes the paper, till with kifling the

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

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YOUR abfence, Sir, though it be long, yet I
Neither forget nor doubt your conftancy.
Nor need you fear that I should 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
time,

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 Phoebus' 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 greedieft 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," said Philetus, " fince the time
"Favours our wifh, and does afford us leave
"T' enjoy our loves; oh, let us not refign
"This long'd-for favour, nor ourselves bereave
"Of what we wifh'd for, Opportunity,
"That may too foon the wings of love out-
fly!

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

"We may depart in fafety, and no more "With dreams of pleafure 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 desire,
The listening youth increas'd his amorous fire.

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III.

Then, though death's fad night appear,
And we in lonely filence reft;
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 fhe 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 scorn'd affection won;
Her eyes foon conquer'd all they shone 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 scorch'd Calabria's ground;
But in his foul, that fhould contain the ftore
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 fpeeches 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 sport, and hunt the started 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 pathless woods, while they Purfue 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 curst fate
Guifardo 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 c.vious 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 poffeft of death,
In these few words he spent his latest breath =

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