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 still 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 business does remain.

Nor is it strange he fhould be loth to part
From her, whose eyes had stole 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 stock did shine :
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 would destroy him quite,
Unless fuck flames within her heart fhould rife.
But yet he fears, because he blinded is,

Though he have shot 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 eafe his miferies:

Where having wept, recovering breath again,
Thus to immortal Love he did complain :

«Oh,

"Oh mighty Cupid! whose unbounded sway, "Hath often rul'd th' Olympian thunderer; "Whom all coeleftial deities obey;

"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 those eyes, whose charming light, "More than theworld 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 state appear,
Alike distracted between hope and fear.

Thinking her love he never shall obtain,

One morn he haunts the woods, and doth complain Of his unhappy fate, but all in vain;

And thus fond Echo answers him again :

It mov'd Aurora, and the wept to hear,
Dewing the verdant grass with many a tear.

"OH! what hath caus'd my killing miferies ?" "EYES," Echo said. "What hath detain'd my ease?” "EASB," ftraight the reasonable nymph replies. "That nothing can my troubled mind appease ?" "PEACE," Echo anfwers. "What, is any nigh?” "Philetus faid, fhe quickly utters, “I."

II.

"Is 't Echo anfwers? tell me then thy will :" “I WILL,” she said, “ What shall I get,” says he, "By loving ftill?" To which she anfwers, "ILL." "Ill! Shall I void of wish'd-for pleasures die ?" "I." "Shall not I, who toil in ceaseless pain, "Some pleasure know?" No," the replies again. III.

"Falfe and inconftant nymph, thou lyeft!" faid he; "THOU LYEST," fhe faid; "And I deferv'd her hate, "If I fhould thee believe." " BELIEVE," faith fhe. "For why? thy idle words are of no weight."

"WEIGHT," the answers. "Therefore I'll depart." To which refounding Echo answers, "PART."

THEN from the woods with wounded heart he goes,
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 burn in him,
But tears do fall to th' earth, flames are within.

No morning-banish'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 last the pitying God, o'ercome
By constant votes and tears, fix'd in her heart
A golden fhaft, and she 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 scorn'd before.
Little fhe thinks fhe kept Philetus' heart
In her fcorch'd breast, because her own fhe gave
To him. Since either fuffers equal fmart,

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.

Whilft thoughts 'gainst thoughts rife up in mutiny,
She took a lute (being far from any ears)
And tun'd this fong, posing 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.

THE

THE SONG.

I.

To whom shall I my forrows show?
Not to Love, for he is blind :
And my Philetus doth not know

The inward torment of my mind.
And all the fenfelefs walls, which are
Now round about me, cannot hear;
II.

For, if they could, they fure would weep,
And with my griefs relent:
Unless their willing tears they keep,

Till I from earth am fent.

Then I believe they'll all deplore
My fate, fince I taught them before.
III.

I willingly would weep my ftore,
If th' flood would land thy love,
My dear Philetus, on the shore

Of my heart; but, fhould't 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 seem'd that there
Her burning flame had melted hills of snow,
And fo diffolv'd them into many a tear;
Which, Nilus-like, did quickly overflow,
And quickly caus'd new ferpent griefs to grow.

D 3

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