“What though our cruel parents angry
"What though our friends, alas! are too unkind? « Time, that now offers, quickly may deny, « And foon hold back fit opportunity.
"Who lets flip Fortune, her shall never find; « Occafion, once pass'd by, is bald behind.” She foon agreed to that which he requir'd, For little wooing needs, where both confent; What he fo long had pleaded, the defir'd: Which Venus seeing, with blind Chance confpir'd, And many a charming accent to her sent, That the (at laft) would fruftrate their intent. Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone, Striving to close those eyes that make her bright; Juft like the moon, which seeks t' eclipse the fun, Whence all her splendor, all her beams, do come:
So fhe, who fetcheth luftre from their fight, Doth purpose to deftroy their glorious light. Unto the mulberry-tree fair Thisbe came; Where having rested long, at last she 'gan Against her Pyramus for to exclaim,
Whilst various thoughts turmoil her troubled brain: And, imitating thus the filver fwan,
A little while before her death, fhe fang:
COME, Love! why stayeft thou? the night
Will vanith ere we tafte delight:
The moon obfcures herself from fight,
Thou abfent, whose eyes give her light.
Come quickly, dear! be brief as time,
Or we by morn fhall be o'erta'en;
Love's joy's thine own as well as mine;
Spend not therefore the time in vain.
HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant fong,
And for her lover's ftay fent many a figh;
Her Pyramus, she thought, did tarry long,
And that his absence did her too much wrong.
Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy,
She fears, yet 's loth to tax, his loyalty.
Sometimes the thinks that he hath her forfaken;
Sometimes, that danger hath befallen him:
She fears that he another Love hath taken;
Which, being but imagin'd, foon doth waken
Numberless thoughts, which on her heart did fling
Fears, that her future fate too truly fing.
WHILE fhe thus mufing fate, ran from the wood
An angry lion to the cryftal fprings,
Near to that place; who coming from his food,
His chaps were all befmear'd with crimson blood:
Swifter than thought, sweet Thisbe strait begins
To fly from him; fear gave her swallows' wings,
As fhe avoids the lion, her defire
Bids her to stay, left Pyramus should come,
And be devour'd by the ftern lion's ire,
So fhe for ever burn in unquench'd fire:
But fear expels all reafons; fhe doth run
Into a darksome cave, ne'er feen by fun.
With hafte fhe let her loofer mantle fall:
Which, when th' enraged lion did espy,
With bloody teeth he tore in pieces fmall;
While Thisbe ran, and look'd not back at all;
For, could the senseless beaft her face descry,
It had not done her fuch an injury.
The night half wafted, Pyramus did come;
Who, feeing printed in the yielding fand
The lion's paw, and by the fountain some
Of Thisbe's garment, forrow ftruck him dumb:
Juft like a marble ftatue did he stand,
Cut by fome skilful graver's artful hand. Recovering breath, at Fate he did exclaim, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed: "I may," faid he, " myself for her death blame; "Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame:
"Since fhe is dead, whose beauty doth exceed "All that frail man can either hear or read."
This fpoke, he drew his fatal fword, and said,
"Receive my crimson blood, as a due debt
"Unto thy conftant love, to which 'tis paid:
"I ftrait will meet thee in the pleasant shade
"Of cool Elyfium; where we, being met,
"Shall taste those joys that here we could not get."
Then through his breast thrusting his sword, life hies
From him, and he makes hafte to feek his Fair:
And as upon the colour'd ground he lies,
His blood had dropt upon the mulberries;
With which th' unspotted berries ftained were,
And ever fince with red they colour'd are.
At laft fair Thisbe left the den, for fear
Of disappointing Pyramus, fince fhe
Was bound by promife for to meet him there:
But when the faw the berries changed were
From white to black, fhe knew not certainly
It was the place where they agreed to be.
With what delight from the dark cave she came,
Thinking to tell how the efcap'd the beast!"
But, when the faw her Pyramus lie flain,
Ah! how perplex'd did her fad foul remain !
She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast,
And every fign of raging grief exprest.
She blames all-powerful Jove; and ftrives to take
His bleeding body from the moiften'd ground.
She kiffes his pale face, till she doth make
It red with killing, and then feeks to wake
His parting foul with mournful words; his wound
Washes with tears, that her sweet speech confound.
But afterwards, recovering breath, said she,
"Alas! what chance hath parted thee and I ?
"O tell what evil hath befall'n to thee,
"That of thy death I may a partner be:
"Tell Thisbe what hath caus'd this tragedy !"
He, hearing Thisbe's name, lifts up his eye;
And on his Love he rais'd his dying head:
Where, ftriving long for breath, at last, said he,
"O Thisbe, I am hasting to the dead,
"And cannot heal that wound my fear hath bred:
"Farewell, fweet Thisbe! we must parted be,
"For angry Death will force me foon from thee."
Life did from him, he from his mistress, part,
Leaving his Love to languish here in woe.
What shall she do? How fhall fhe eafe her heart?
Or with what language speak her inward smart?
Ufurping Paffion Reason doth o'erflow,
She vows that with her Pyramus fhe 'll go:
Then takes the sword wherewith her Love was flain,
With Pyramus's crimson blood warm still;
And faid, "Oh stay, bleft foul, awhile refrain,
"That we may go together, and remain
"In endless joys, and never fear the ill
"Of grudging friends!"-Then she herself did kill. To tell what grief their parents did sustain, Were more than my rude quill can overcome; Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain, For weeping calls not back the dead again.
Both in one grave were laid, when life was done; And these few words were writ upon the tomb: EPITAPH.
|