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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.
“ To whom shall I my sorrows shew?
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
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.