Part 32

I have, and I'd as lief her throat were cut! She almost ripped my bowels up, I vow, Running amuck with horns well set to butt: Nathless I've locked her in the stall below: She's blown with grass, I tell you, saucy slut!

ARISTAEUS.

Now, prithee, let me hear what made you stay So long upon the upland lawns away?

THYRSIS.

Walking, I spied a gentle maiden there, Who plucked wild flowers upon the mountain side: I scarcely think that Venus is more fair, Of sweeter grace, most modest in her pride: She speaks, she sings, with voice so soft and rare, That listening streams would backward roll their tide: Her face is snow and roses; gold her head; All, all alone she goes, white-raimented,

ARISTAEUS.

Stay, Mopsus! I must follow: for 'tis she Of whom I lately spoke. So, friend, farewell!

MOPSUS.

Hold, Aristaeus, lest for her or thee Thy boldness be the cause of mischief fell!

ARISTAEUS.

Nay, death this day must be my destiny, Unless I try my fate and break the spell. Stay therefore, Mopsus, by the fountain stay! I'll follow her, meanwhile, yon mountain way.

MOPSUS.

Thyrsis, what thinkest thou of thy loved lord? See'st thou that all his senses are distraught? Couldst thou not speak some seasonable word, Tell him what shame this idle love hath wrought?

THYRSIS.

Free speech and servitude but ill accord, Friend Mopsus, and the hind is folly-fraught Who rates his lord! He's wiser far than I. To tend these kine is all my mastery.

SCENE II

ARISTAEUS, in pursuit of EURYDICE.

Flee not from me, maiden! Lo, I am thy friend! Dearer far than life I hold thee. List, thou beauty-laden, To these prayers attend: Flee not, let my arms enfold thee! Neither wolf nor bear will grasp thee: That I am thy friend I've told thee: Stay thy course then; let me clasp thee!-- Since thou'rt deaf and wilt not heed me, Since thou'rt still before me flying, While I follow panting, dying, Lend me wings, Love, wings to speed me!

SCENE III

A DRYAD.

Sad news of lamentation and of pain, Dear sisters, hath my voice to bear to you: I scarcely dare to raise the dolorous strain. Eurydice by yonder stream lies low; The flowers are fading round her stricken head, And the complaining waters weep their woe. The stranger soul from that fair house hath fled; And she, like privet pale, or white May-bloom Untimely plucked, lies on the meadow, dead. Hear then the cause of her disastrous doom! A snake stole forth and stung her suddenly. I am so burdened with this weight of gloom That, lo, I bid you all come weep with me!

CHORUS OF DRYADS.

Let the wide air with our complaint resound! For all heaven's light is spent. Let rivers break their bound, Swollen with tears outpoured from our lament!

Fell death hath ta'en their splendour from the skies: The stars are sunk in gloom. Stern death hath plucked the bloom Of nymphs:--Eurydice down-trodden lies. Weep, Love! The woodland cries. Weep, groves and founts; Ye craggy mounts; you leafy dell, Beneath whose boughs she fell, Bend every branch in time with this sad sound.

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

Ah, fortune pitiless! Ah, cruel snake! Ah, luckless doom of woes! Like a cropped summer rose, Or lily cut, she withers on the brake. Her face, which once did make Our age so bright With beauty's light, is faint and pale; And the clear lamp doth fail, Which shed pure splendour all the world around

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

Who e'er will sing so sweetly, now she's gone? Her gentle voice to hear, The wild winds dared not stir; And now they breathe but sorrow, moan for moan: So many joys are flown, Such jocund days Doth Death erase with her sweet eyes! Bid earth's lament arise, And make our dirge through heaven and sea rebound!