Oh! how this letter feem'd to raife his pride! When he did Phœbus' flaming chariot guide, But ere the autumn, which fair Ceres crown'd, 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 wish, 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 soon the wings of love out-fly! But, ere they part, Philetus begs to hear, One fong to fatisfy his longing ear: She yields; and, finging added to defire, THE THE SONG. I. TIME! fly with greater speed away, Add feathers to thy wings, Till thy hafte in flying brings That wifht-for, and expected day. II. Comfort's fun we then fhall fee, Though at firft it darken'd be With dangers; yet, thofe clouds but gone, III. Then, though death's fad night appear, And we in lonely filence reft; Our ravifh'd fouls no more fhall fear, But with lafting day be bleft. IV. And then no friends can part us more, FEAR of being feen, Philetus homeward drove, But, ere the fun through many days had run, As might contend with scorch'd Calabria's ground; Him was Conftantia urg'd continually, By' her friends, to love: fometimes they did intreat But love too deep was feated in her heart, Conftantia Conftantia mifs'd, the hunters in amaze In these few words he spent his latest breath: "O fee, Conftantia! my short race is run; "See how my blood the thirfty ground doth dye; "But live thou happier than thy love hath done, "And when I'm dead, think fometime upon me! "More my short time permits me not to tell, "For now death feizeth me; my dear, farewell!" As foon as he had spoke thefe words, life fled From his pierc'd body, whilft Conflantia, fhe Kisses his cheeks, that lose their lively red, And become pale and wan; and now each eye, Which was fo bright, is like, when life was done, A ftar that's fall'n, or an eclipfed fun. Thither Philocrates was driven by fate, birth. "Juft Jove hath fent me to revenge his fate; Nay, ftay, Guifardo, think not Heaven in jeft: ""Tis vain to hope flight can fecure thy ftate." Then thruft his fword into the villain's breast. "Here," faid Philocrates, "thy life I fend "A facrifice, t' appeafe my flaughter'd friend." But, as he fell," Take this reward," faid he, "For thy new victory." With that he flung His darted rapier at his enemy, Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung. With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes, "Farewell, Conftantia!" that word faid, he dies. What fhall fhe do? She to her brother runs, His cold and lifeless body does embrace; She calls to him that cannot hear her moans, And with her kiffes warms his clammy face. "My dear Philocrates!" fhe, weeping, cries, "Speak to thy fifter!" but no voice replies. Then running to her Love, with many a tear, Thus her mind's fervent paffion fhe exprest; "Oftay, bleft foul, stay but a little here, "And take me with you to a lasting reft. "Then to Elysium's mansions both shall fly, But, feeing them both dead, fhe cry'd, « Ah me! Since 'twas for me, dear Love, that thou didst die, |