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The prince who kept the world in awe,
AYE AND NO. A FABLE'.
Is Fable all things hold discourse,
* Taken from the Miscellanies published by Dr.
Swift and Mr. Pope. VOL. X.
“Ah no! ah no!” the guileless Guise Demurely did reply; I cannot go, nor yet can stand, So sore the gout have I. The duke in wrath call'd for his steeds, And fiercely drove them on ; Lord' lord! how rattled then thy stones, O kingly Kensington"' All in a trice he rush'd on Guise, Thrust out his lady dear; He tweak"d his nose, trod on his toes, And stnote him on the ear. But mark, how midst of victory Fate plays her old dog-trick' Up leap'd duke John, and knock'd him down, And so down fell duke Nic. Alas, oh Nic! oh Nic, alas ! Right did thy gossip call thee: As who should say, alas the day When John of Guise shall maul thee! For on thee did he clap his chair, And on that chair did sit; And look'd as if he meant therein To do—what was not fit. Up didst thou look, oh, woeful duke' Thy mouth yet durst not ope, Certes for fear of finding there A t—d instead of trope. “ Lie there, thou caitiff vile!” quotu Guise, No sheet is here to save thee: The casement it is shut likewise; Beneath my feet I have thee. “ If thou hastaught to speak, speak out,” Then Lancastere did cry, “ knows’t thou not me, nor yet thyself? Who thou, and who am I? “ Know'st thou not me, who (God be prais'd) Have brawl'd and quarrel'd more, Than all the line of jancastere, That battled heretofore ? “ In senates fam'd for many a speech, And (what some awe must give ye, o Though laid thus low beneath thy breach) Still of the council privy; “ Still of the dutchy chancellor; Durante life I have it; And turn, as now thou dost on me, Mine a—e on them that gaye it.”
But now the servants they rush'd in ; And duke Nic, up leap'd he “ I will not cope against such odds, But, Guise! I'll fight with thee: “ Tomorrow with thee will I fight Under the green-wood tree.” “No, not to morrow, but to night.” (Quoth Guise) “I’ll fight with thcc.” And now the Sun declining low Bestreak'd with blood the skies; when, with his sword at saddle-bow, Rode forth the valiant Guise. Full gently pranc'd he o'er the lawn, Oft roll'd his cyes around, And from the stirrup stretch'd to find Who was not to be found.
* Lord Lechmere lived at Camden-house, near Yensington, N.
Dione. Yet sure some turtle's love has equal'd mine, Who, when the hawk hath snatch'd her mate away, Hath never known the glad return of day. When my fond father saw my faded eye, And on my livid cheek the roses die; When catching sighs my wasted bosom mov’d, My looks, my sighs, confirm'd him that I lov’d. He knew not that Evander was my flame, Evander dead my passion still the same! He came, he threaten’d ; with paternal sway, Cleanthes nam’d, and fix’d the nuptial day: O cruel kindness! too severely prest! 1 scorn his honours, and his wealth detest.
LAURA. How vain is force! Love ne'er can be compell’d.
dioxie. Though bound my duty, yet my heart rebell’d. One night, when sleep had hush'd all busy spies, And the pale Moon had journey'd half the skies, Softly I rose and dress'd; with silent tread, Unbarr'd the gates, and to these mountains fled.
pions. Perhaps untimely fate her flame hath cross'd, And she, like me, hath her Evander lost. How my soul pities her LAURA. —If pity move Your generous bosom, pity those who love. There late arriv'd among our sylvan race A stranger shepherd, who with lonely pace Visits those mountain-pines at dawn of day, Where oft Parthenia takes her early way To rouze the chase; mad with his amorous pain, He stops and raves; then sullen walks again. Parthenia's name is borne by passing gales, And talking hills repeat it to the dales. Come, let us from this vale of sorrow go, Nor let the mournful scene prolong thy woe. .* [Ereunt. SCENE II".
Shepherds and Shepherdesses (crowned with gar
lands of cypress and yew) bearing the body of
1 shephth D.
Here gently rest the corse—With faultering breath
2 shephen D. When pitying lions o'er a carcase groan, And hungry tigers bleeding kids bemoan; When the lean wolf laments the mangled sheep; Then shall Parthenia o'er Menalcas weep.
1 shephern. When famish'd panthers seek their morning food, And monsters roar along the desert wood;
* This and the following scene are formed upon the novel of Marcella in Don Quixote.
When hissing vipers rustle through the brake, Or in the path-way rears the speckled snake; The wary swain th' approaching peril spies, And through some distant road securely flies. Fly then, ye swains, from beauty's surer wound. Such was the fate our poor Menalcas found !
2 shepherd. What shepherd does not mourn Menalcas slain! Kill'd by a barbarous woman's proud disdain! Whoe'er attempts to bend her scornful mind, Cries to the deserts, and pursues the wind.
1 shepherd. With every grace Menalcas was endow’d, His merits dazzled all the sylvan crowd. If you would know his pipe’s melodious sound, Ask all the Echoes of these hills around, For they have learnt his strains; who shall rehears. The strength, the cadence of his tuneful verse? Go, read those lofty poplars; there you’ll find Some tender sonnet grow on every rind.
2 shepherd. Yet what avails his skill 2 Parthenia flies. * Can merit hope success in woman's eyes?
parth px ta.
—Is love in mine? If e'er 1 trifled with a shepherd's pain, Or with false hope his passion strove to gain; Then might you justly curse my savage mind, Then might you tank me with the serpent kind: But I ne'er trified with a shepherd's pain, . Nor with false hope his passion strove to gain: 'Tis to his rash pursuit he owes his fate; I was not cruel; he was obstinate.
1 shepherD. Hear this, ye sighing shepherds, and despair, Unhappy Lycidas, thy hour is near ! [doom, Since the same barbarous hand hath sign'd thy We'll lay thee in our lov’d Menalcas' tomb.
parthenia. Why will intruding man my peace destroy Let me content and solitude enjoy ; Free was I born; my freedom to maintain, Farly I sought the unambitious plain. Most women's weak resolves, like reeds, will ply, Shake with each breath, and bend with every sigh; Mine, like an oak, whose firm roots deep descend, Nor breath of love can shake, nor sigh can bend. If ye unhappy Lycidas would save; Go seek him, lead him to Menalcas' grave; Forbid his eyes with flowing grief to rain, Like him Menalcas wept, but wept in vain: Bid him his heart-consuming groans give o'er: Tell him, I heard such piercing groans before, And heard unmov’d. O Lycidas, be wise, Prevent thy fate.—Lo! there Menalcas lics.
1 sheph E.R.D.
Now all the n lancholy rites are paid,
lancholy posture, looking on the grave of Menalcas.
pxter lycinas. SCENE IV. Lycidas, PARTHEN1A.
When shall uty steps have rest? thro' all the wood,
SCENE V. rvcipas, ParthFN1A, pione, LAURA. [Dione and Laura at a distance.
Lycidas. what do I see? No. Fancy mocks my eyes, And bids the dear deluding vision risc. *Tis she. My springing heart her presence feels. Sce, prostrate Lycidas before thee kneels. [Kneeling to Parthenia. Why will Parthenia turn her face away?
ran rhexi A.
Who calls Parthenia 2 hah!
flies into the wood.
Stay, virgin, stay. Owing my feet, kind Love' See, sce, she bounds, \ Fleet as the mountain roe, when prest by hounds.
[He pursues her. Dione faint, in the arms of Laura.
Ah, false Evander'
rotone, * Didst thou not hear his sighs and suppliant tone * Didst thou not hear the pitying mountain groan * Didst thou not see him bend his suppliant knee * Thus in my happy days he knelt to me, And pour'd forth all his soul! See how he strains, And lessens to the sight o'er yonder plains, To keep the fair in view Run, virgin, run, Hear not his vows; I heard, and was undone!
LAURA. Let not imaginary terrours fright. Some dark delusion swims before thy sight. I saw Parthenia from the mountain's brow, And Lycidas with prostrate duty bow; Swift, as the falcon's wing, I saw her fly, And heard the cavern to his groans reply. Why stream thy tears for sorrows not thy own 2
Dioxe. Oh! where are honour, faith, and justice, flown? Perjur'd Evander • LAU Ita. - Death has laid him low. Touch not the mournful string that wakes thy woe.
Dioxe. That amorous swain, whom Lycidas you name, (Whose faithless bosom feels another flame) Is my once kind Evander—yes—'twas he. He lives—but lives, alas! no more for me.
LAURA. Let not thy frantic words confess despair.