ATYCHES

Thou God that rulst the suns bright flaming cart If thou my grandsire art, as sure thou art For in my breast I feel thy powers divine, Firing my soul, which tells me I am thine: Direct my hand and guide this pointed dart, That it may Pierce, and rive the monsters heart. Ah Perindus this luckless hour Bids thee unwelcome, fly and never more, Never approach to view this deadly shore. Thy sister the fair Olinda must die. But none of all as she. yes; and till the sun Betwixt noon and night his middle raze shall run, The rites will not be finished; it's briefly thus. Thou knowest by Neptune's temple close their grows A sacred garden, where every flowers blow Here blushing roses, there the Lilies white, He e Hya inth, and there Narcissus bright And underneath, the creeping violets show: That sweetness oh to delights to dwell below: Vaulted above with thousand fragrant trees, And under pa'ud with shamefast Strawberries, Which creeping low do sweetly blushing tell, That fairest pleasantest fruits, do humblest dwell. Briefly a little Heaven on Earth it seems: where every sweet and pleasure fully streams. The falsest coin is fairest to the eye, Singling thy sister forth, they chance to see, The sacred grafted of that Herperjan tree, Whose golden apples much the eye delighting, Would tempt the hands: the longing taste inviting: And now the subtle witch spies fit occasion, And with fit speech and oaths, and soft persuasion, So words he mind; that she (would little guessing, What monster lay under that feigned dressing, Puls of the unhappy fruit straight down she falls, And thrice a thundering voice Dieaeus calls; The Priest knew what the fearful voice portended, And fair Olinda half dead apprehended: And to the temple bears her, there reserving Till the third day with death pays her deserving So Neptune, bids, that who shall touch the tree. With hands profane, shall by Malorcha die; Malorcha bred in seas, yet seas do dread him, As much more monstrous then the seas that bred him Down to the fatal rock I go to see And act a partly in this foul Tragedy. Who nothing Hope's yet nothing ought despair. What ever was impossib e to love? Unworthy love that life for love prefers And it's my fate to die with her or save her. I loved her ever. Can Seas or Rivers stand can Rocks remove? Could they? yet could I never cease to love: Perindus, if now I see thee last, farewell: Within thy breast all joys and quiet dwell. Adieu: Olinda now to thee I fly For thee I lived, for thee i'll gladly die, Will Perindu go with us to the temple? The Ox now feels no yoke, all labour sleeps, The soul unbent, this as her playtime keeps, And sports it self in fancies winding streams, Bathing his thoughts in thousand winged dreams. The fisher tired with labour, snorteth fast, And never thinks of pains to come or passed, Only love waking rest and sleep despises, Sets later then the sun, and sooner rises. With him the day as night, the night as day, All car , no rest, all work, no holiday How different from love is lovers guise! He never opens, they never shut their eyes. So: I am alone, ther's none but I, My grief, my love, my wonted compa y, And which best fits a grieved lovers sprite, The silent stars and solitary night. Tell me heavens sentinels that compass round This ball of earth, on earth was never found A love Like mine, oh long, so truly sir ed, Whose wage is hate, have all my pains deserved Contempt? mine and her; for she deer affected: The more I loved, the more I was neglected. Since thou canst love where thou hast hatred proved, Olinda, how canst thou hate where thou art loved? Thy body is mine by conquest, but I find, Thy body is not always with thy mind. Give both oh none, or if but one, o'th'two Give me thy mind, and let thy body go. If this without thy mind I only have What givest thou more to me then to thy graven? Prove me, my deer, what canst thou hate in me? Unless my love, my love still bent on thee? My name's Thalander, perhaps it does displease thee, I will refuse my name, if that may ease thee. Thalander to exile we'll still confine, And 'le be Atyches, so I be thine. Perindus, the very name of comfort, is most comfortless Comfort, joy, hope, lived in her cheerful smiling, And now must die, or live in far ex king. Comfort, joy, hope, for ever I deny you, And would not name you now but to defy you. Perindus, do not say so, If thou yet love me, prithee do not say so: Was ever ill as this? hels breniary All torment in this narrow space is laid, The woe st of all, in these two words are said: Olinda dead? dead! whither dost thou led me? Why, I can go alone, alone can find The way I seek, I see it best when blind. I prithee leave me. Thou violat'st thy love in thy mistaking, And clean forsakest thy friend, in not forsaking Olinda : I cannot come, they here enc aine me. But neither can, nor shall they here detain me. I'th' mean time, all the honour I can give thee, Is but a graven, that sacred rock, the place Of my conception, and my burial: Since Hymen will not, death shall make thee mine, If not my marriage, my deathbed shall be thine. TEll me, All ipp , is it day or night? This is none light was light in her eyes, In them it lived, put out with them it die. The sun is quenched. Not possible! heavens light will ever plain. When her two living stars can sink and die, How can the sun dream immortality? Alcippus, didst thou ever love? I think so too, nor canst know what love is. True, true, Alcippus, love is of the fairest, And therefore never tied unto the body: Which if compared unto the minds fair graces, Seems Like the block that Luna's face defaces. But grounded on the mind, whose virtuous parts. And living beauty's are loves surest darts, Which makes me now as freely love as ever Her virtue and my love decayeth never. Seest thou this rock, Alcippus ? 'tis a temple, Olinda's temple! it's a sacred shrine, Where virtue, beauty, and what ere divine, Are to be worshipped, prithee friend now leave me, Here is and Altar, I must sacrifice. I will, I will: Indeed I will; leave me: griefs ebb grows low, When private heart the eye-bankes overflow. Thou blessed Altar, take these worthless offering , The corral's once more drowned in brine of sorrow, These pearly shells, which daily shall be filled With my hearts water, through my eyes distilled. You corralls, whose fresh beauty S are a shadow Oh her sweet blushes, ell her living graces, Though now as you plucked from their native places, Are yet as you from your first seat removed, He e fresher shining then when first I loved. Thou rock, that in thy blessed arms dost enfold her, Witness my heart as firm as you do hold her. And now goodnight thou set sun beauty's, never, Never more to be seen, goodnight for ever, Thou silver forehead and thou golden hair, My best, my only treasure when you were, You snowy plains, and you fair modest die, You living stars, but now two quenched lights, Whose fallen, heavens stars with feared ruin frights. You eyebrows, which Like Rainbows two appear; A miracle, Rainbows on sky so clear. And all you unseen beauty's sof lie rest, Sleep, quiet sleep you in this stony chest, I cannot long; I will not long be from you, Shortly i'll come and in this rocky bed Slumber with my Olinda, with Olinda I'll sleep my fill mean time as near as may be, Here rest mine eyes, rest close by your Olinda. Hark, hark; Arion, thou choice Musician, Sing me a note that may awake pale death, Such as may move deaf Hell and Stygian Io e, Such as once Orpheus —Oh I am idle, idle: Sleep, sleep, mine eyes, this short releasement take you, Sleep, sleep for ever; never more awake you. Her face your object never more shall be, Sleep then, vain eyes, why should you wish to see? Morpheus, one more such dream shall buy me. Where, where art, Olinda ? whither, whither fliest thou? Thou fairest shadow of a Nymph more fair, eath yet I see cannot thy light impair. Ah too too true; For such a sighed wake shall I never view. Would I were dead on that condition. Could I believe it, I were happy. They saw thee dead, how shall I trust my eye, Which either now or then did vowch a lie? Then Like a dream thou'lt fly, If thou art dead, fair hand, how dost revive me? Alcippus, art thou there? thou art my friend I prithee tell me true, true Alcippus ! dost thou not see Olinda? Art sure 'tis she? tell me, are we alive? Art sure we wake? are we not both mistaken? If now I sleep, Oh let me never waken. Thy hand lives: do thy lips live too Olinda ! Alcippus, she lives and breathes, All ippus : And with that sugared bred my heart both fired, And life and love with thousand joys inspired. Ah my Olinda. Is't possible thou livest? is't sure I hold thee? These happy arms shall never more unfold thee. My joy, my soul. For thy defence my hand shall still attend thee, My hand and heart, but never to offend thee: The only penance that I enjoin thee ever, Is that we live and love and joy together. Think not my hand will sacrilege commit, To break this temple where all Graces fit. What says my love? Blame me not, friend: for yet I seem forsaken And doubt I sleep, and fear still to be waken. Yet what thou hatest, thy brother loves as well. Tell me, my dearest love, what have I done? What has Thalander done? ah tell me. Thou welcomest misery while thine arms enfold me Ah Perindus, When least thou thinkest, thou art deceived most, My self, my love, my labour I have lost, When I have lost my self, to find my love. Do not deceive me. Perindus, my joy, by too much joy enjoying, I feel not half my joy, by overjoying. It's night! Led me, for yet my mind, too much affected To have it so, makes truth it self suspected. Yes, I am patient, And suffer all, while all heavens ills are spent. Senseless and mad. Who in much grief, is not extremely sad? True, true, and could the fates no time spy But this? to me she never lived till now, And now Perindus ? now! o— Alas, thy sister! She was my life, my soul, she was my love, She was—words know not what she was to me: She was—thou most accursed word of was Henbane and roses in our garden grow, Ah that from fruits so sweet, such gall should flow! Here fair Olinda, with her Mymphs arrives, And time away, time to fast posting drives, While Nago that deformed enchanter, ranging Along these trees, his shape and habit changing Seemed then Glaucilla, such his statelike eyes, Such hair, such lips, such cheeks, such rosy die, So Like Glaucillas self that had she spied him, More would she doubt her self, the more she eyed him to live with her or else to die before her. But in my hand shall fight Jove conquering love.