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XXIV.
No morning banish'd darkness, nor black Night,
By her alternate course, expelld the day 140
In which Philetus by a constant rite.
At Cupid's altars did not weep and pray ;
And yet he nothing reap'd for all his pain,
But care and forrow was his only gain.

XXV.
But now, at last, the pitying god, o'ercome

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By constant votes and tears, fix'd in her heart
A golden (haft; and he is now become
A suppliant to Love, that with like dart
He'd wound Philetus; does with tears implore
Aid from that pow's she so much scorn'd before. 150

XXVI. Little she thinks Me kept Philetus' heart In her scorch'd breast, because her own she gave To him. Since either suffers equal smart, And a like measure in their torments have, His foul, his griefs, his fires, now her's are grown; Her heart, her mind, her love, is his alone. 156

XXVII. Whilst thoughts 'gainst thoughts rise up in mutiny, She took a lute (being far from any ears) And tun'd her song, posing that harmony Which poets attribute to heav'nly spheres. 160 Thus had she fung when her dear love was Nain, She'd surely call'd him back from Styx again.

XXVIII.

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“ To whom shall I my sorrows shew?
Not to Love, for he is blind,
And my Philetus doth not know
The inward torment of my mind :
And all the senseless walls which are
Now round about me cannot hear.

XXIX.
For if they could they sure would weep,
And with my griefs relent,
Unless their willing tears they keep
Till I from earth am fent :
Then I believe they'll all deplore
My fate, since I taught them before,

XXX.
I willingly would keep my store,
If the flood would land thy love,
My dear Philetus! on the shore
Of my heart; but Mouldst thou prove
Afraid of fames, know the fires are
But bonfires for thy coming there."

XXXI.
Then tears, in envy of her speech, did Aow
From her fair eyes, as if it seem'd that there
Her burning fame had melted hills of snow,
And so diffolv'd them into many a tear;
Which, Nilus-like, did quickly overflow,
And quickly caus'd new ferpent-griefs to grow.

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XXXII.
Here stay, my Mufe ! for if I should recite
Her mournful language, I should make you weep,
Like her, a flood, and so not see to write
Such lines as I and th’age requires, to keep 190
Me from stern Death, or with victorious ryhme
Revenge their master's death and conquer Time.

XXXIII.
By this time Chance, and his own industry,
Had help'd Philetus forward, that he grew
Acquainted with her brother, so that he

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Might, by this means, his bright Constantia view,
And, as time serv'd, shew her his mifery:
This was the first act in his tragedy.

XXXIV. Thus to himself, footh'd by his flattering state, He said; “ How shall I thank thee for this gain, 200 “ O Cupid!or reward my helping Fate, " Which fweetens all my forrows, all my pain? " What husbandman would any pains refuse, To reap at last such fruit his labours ufe?”

XXXV. But when he wisely weighềd his doubtful state, 205 Seeing his griefs link'd, like an endless chain, To following woes, he would, when, 'twas too late, Quench his hot Aames, and idle love disdain; But Cupid, when his heart was set on fire, Had burnt his wings, who could not then retire. 210

XXXVI.
The wounded youth and kind Philocrates
(So was her brother call’d) grew foon so dear,
So true and constant in their amities,
And in that league fo strictly joined were,
That death itself could not their friendship fever, 215
But as they liv'd in love they dy'd together.

XXXVII.
If one be melancholy, th'other's fad;
If one be fick, the other's furely ill;
And if Philetus any sorrow had,
Philocrates was partner in it still;

220 Pylades' soul and mad Orestes' was In these, if we believe Pythagoras.

XXXVIII. Oft' in the woods Philetus walks, and there Exclaims against his fate, fate too unkind;. With speaking tears his griefs he doth declare, 225 And with sad sighs inltructs the angry wind To figh, and did ev'n upon that prevail; It groan'd to bear Philetus' mournful tale.

XXXIX. The crystal brooks, which gently run between The shadowing trees, and as they thro' them pafs Water the earth, and keep the meadows green, 231 Giving a colour to the verdant grass, Hearing Philetus tell his woeful state, In Thew of grief ran murm'ring at his fate.

XL. Philomel answers him again, and thews, 235 In her best language, her fad history, And in a mournful sweetness tells her woes, Denying to be pos'd in misery: Constantia he, the Tereus, Tereus cries, With him both grief, and grief's expression, vies.240

XLI. Philocrates must needs his sadness know, Willing in ills as well as joys to Share, Nor will on them the name of friends bestow, Who in light sport, not sorrow, partners are : Who leaves to guide the ship when storms arise, 245 Is guilty both of sin and cowardice.

XLII. But when his noble friend perceiv'd that he Yielded to tyrant Passion more and more, Desirous to partake his malady, He watches him in hope to cure his fore 250 By counsel, and recall the pois'nous dart, When it, alas! was fixed in his heart.

XLIII. When in the woods, places best fit for care, He to himself did his past griefs recite, Th obsequious friend straight follows him, and there Doth hide hiinself from fad Philetus' sight; 256 Who thus exclaims, for a swoln heart would break, If it for vent of sorrow might not speak.

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