ARISTAEUS.
Mopsus, thou speakest to the deaf and blind: Waste not on me these winged words, I pray, Lest they be scattered to the inconstant wind, I love, and cannot wish to say love nay; Nor seek to cure so charming a disease: They praise Love best who most against him say.
Yet if thou fain wouldst give my heart some ease, Forth from thy wallet take thy pipe, and we Will sing awhile beneath the leafy trees; For well my nymph is pleased with melody.
THE SONG.
Listen, ye wild woods, to my roundelay; Since the fair nymph will hear not, though I pray.
The lovely nymph is deaf to my lament, Nor heeds the music of this rustic reed; Wherefore my flocks and herds are ill content, Nor bathe their hoof where grows the water weed, Nor touch the tender herbage on the mead; So sad, because their shepherd grieves, are they.
Listen, ye wild woods, to my roundelay; Since the fair nymph will hear not, though I pray.
The herds are sorry for their master"s moan; The nymph heeds not her lover though he die, The lovely nymph, whose heart is made of stone-- Nay steel, nay adamant! She still doth fly Far, far before me, when she sees me nigh, Even as a lamb flies fern the wolf away.
Listen, ye wild woods, to my roundelay; Since the fair nymph will hear not, though I pray.
Nay, tell her, pipe of mine, how swift doth flee Beauty together with our years amain; Tell her how time destroys all rarity, Nor youth once lost can be renewed again; Tell her to use the gifts that yet remain: Roses and violets blossom not alway.
Listen, ye wild woods, to my roundelay; Since the fair nymph will hear not, though I pray.
Carry, ye winds, these sweet words to her ears, Unto the ears of my loved nymph, and tell How many tears I shed, what bitter tears!
Beg her to pity one who loves so well: Say that my life is frail and mutable, And melts like rime before the rising day.
Listen, ye wild woods, to my roundelay; Since the fair nymph will hear not, though I pray.
MOPSUS.
Less sweet, methinks the voice of waters falling From cliffs that echo back their murmurous song; Less sweet the summer sound of breezes calling Through pine-tree tops sonorous all day long; Than are thy rhymes, the soul of grief enthralling, Thy rhymes o"er field and forest borne along: If she but hear them, at thy feet she"ll fawn.-- Lo, Thyrsis, hurrying homeward from the lawn!
[_Re-enters_ THYRSIS.
ARISTAEUS.
What of the calf? Say, hast thou seen her now?
THYRSIS, _the cowherd_.
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 b.u.t.t: Nathless I"ve locked her in the stall below: She"s blown with gra.s.s, I tell you, saucy s.l.u.t!
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.
[_Exit_ ARISTAEUS.
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!
[_Exit_ ARISTAEUS, _pursuing_ EURYDICE.
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.