PHILANDER. Charlotte Lennox (née Ramsay) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T9992 K024779.000 Lennox, Charlotte, ca. 1729-1804. Philander. A Dramatic Pastoral: By the Author of the Female Quixote. London printed for A. Millar 1758 pp. []-48. 48p.; 8⁰.

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PHILANDER .
ACT I. SCENE , An open plain , with the prospect of a wood at a distance . Enter SYLVIA . NERINA following . NERINA . YOU shun me then , my Sylvia ? SYLVIA . No , my friend , Not you , 'tis the fond voice of love , I shun ; Chuse any other theme , and I will listen Still as the night , when not a zephyr stirs The trembling leaves . NERINA . And why not talk of love ? While that soft bloom glows on thy beauteous cheek , While thy eyes dart their undiminish'd rays , And every feature smiles with rosy youth . Youth , the fit season for delight and joy . Ah ! trifler , waste not thus the fleeting hours , The spring of life knows no return ; and age , The ceaseless winter of the human frame , Steals silent on , to blast thy flow'ry prime . SONG . Ah ! waste not thus thy flow'ry prime , The vernal season of delight ; Youth flies upon the wings of time , And age and winter are in sight . SYLVIA . Then let me seize each minute as it flies , Consume in varied sports the blissful day , Rise with the dawn , and join the virgin train , Bound o'er the dewy vale , dislodge the deer , Pursue with flying pace the nimble doe , And with the savage wage a distant war . NERINA . Ah ! foolish nymph , begin the war at home : Within thy charming breast the savage lies , Covert too sweet for such a dang'rous foe . SONG . Would'st thou a greater monster quell , Than all our teeming woods e'er bore : Subdue thy pride , that foe repel , And yield to love's persuasive lore . SYLVIA . Thee , chaste Diana , all my wishes claim ; By choice thy vot'ry , my whole life is thine . SONG . Oh ! goddess of the Sylvan reign Where peace , where innocence abide ; My freedom is to wear thy chain , In serving thee my noblest pride . NERINA . Thy infant-vows , to young Philander given , Thou stand'st excluded from the virgin choir . SYLVIA . Philander was my parent's choice , not mine . My heart subscrib'd not to th' unhallow'd vow That pass'd my infant lips ; urge it no more . NERINA . Montano's heir , Montano Phoebus' priest , Dear to his patron-god , and blest with wealth : Where could your choice have fix'd , had it been free But on your destin'd spouse ? Arcadia's boast , The secret wish of every blooming maid . SYLVIA . Take him who will , this all-accomplish'd youth : My part in him I quit , and , sweet exchange ! Be freedom mine ; mine the enchanting joys These woods and forests yield , this well-strung bow , This sounding quiver , pure delights supply . Be but my arrows fleet , and just their aim , And I have all my wish . NERINA . Take heed , fond maid ! For love has arrows fleeter far ; and oh ! More deadly too , if pointed with despair . SONG . Think what the hapless virgin proves , Who loves in vain , yet fondly loves ; While modesty and female pride , The slighted passion seek to hide . For oh ! in vain the sigh's represt That struggling heaves her anxious breast . In vain the falling tear's with-held , The conscious wish in vain repell'd . Her faded cheek , and air forlorn , Coarse jests invite , and cruel scorn . To hopeless love she falls a prey , And wastes in silent grief away . SYLVIA . With her own coldness Cynthia guards my breast ; And the soft god can find no entrance there . SONG . Ye gently-breathing zephyrs say , If as your airy course yon fly , Did you e'er meet with one so gay , So happy , or so free , as I . Ye softly-murm'ring streams declare , If on your banks you ever knew A maid who own'd so little care , A heart to liberty so true . NERINA . Yet dread the anger of avenging gods , For broken vows and violated faith . SYLVIA . The gods are just : they form'd me what I am , Cold and disdainful of the nuptial tye ; They will not punish faults themselves have caus'd . But while forgetful of the promis'd chace , With thee the moments idly thus I waste , A bevy of bright nymphs , already met In yonder grove of oaks , expect my coming . This day we hunt the stag . SONG . Celestial huntress , deign to grace Our sports , and bless the morning chace . The goddess comes , she comes , and lo ! I see her silver-beaming bow . I hear her rattling quiver sound , Her nymphs with chearful shoutings fill the place , And the glad echos from the hills rebound . [ Going . ] PHILANDER meets her . PHILANDER . One moment stay . SYLVIA . Detain me not , the morning wears apace . The nymphs expect me to the promis'd chace . PHILANDER . Ah ! quit the Sylvan war , the hunter's toils , Love , nobler trophies yields , and sweeter spoils . Beauty like your's should these rough sports despise , Nor with your arrows conquer , but your eyes . SYLVIA . Beauty's short conquests soon to bondage turn , The vanquish'd triumph , and the victors mourn . With haughty sway his empire Love maintains , And all are vassals , where a tyrant reigns . PHILANDER . Yet his soft power , even gods themselves confess , 'Tis his to conquer , but 'tis his to bless . Then yield thee , beauteous nymph , and thou shalt prove How faint all joys compar'd to mutual love . SYLVIA . Away , presumptuous ! taint not my chaste car With sounds Diana's handmaid must not hear . Hate ever be my part , be thine despair , Away , presumptuous ! and thy suit forbear . PHILANDER . SONG . Yes , cruel maid , I go to prove The last sad effort of despair : One death shall this lost wretch remove , And thousands from thy scorn shall spare . Yet shall thy image bless my closing eye , And my last breath thy still lov'd name shall sigh . Exeunt . NERINA . Oh ! cruelty extreme ! ungrateful maid , Thus , is it thus , that faithful love is paid ? SYLVIA . Cease chiding now , my savage lover comes , The rude , rough Satyr — ah ! he's here already . Enter the SATYR . Ah ! Sylvia , whither , whither , dost thou fly ? Turn , cruel maid , too lovely Sylvia turn . Oh ! fairer than the fairest lillies thou , Erect and tall as alders ; thy soft skin More sleek than orient shells ; and whiter far Than falling snows ; turn , turn thy starry eyes , And bless thy lover with their beauteous rays . SYLVIA . Great terror of these woods ; ah ! why on me , This lavish praise ? know thy own worth , and woo Some nymph , if such there be , whose wondrous form Is lovely as thy own . — SATYR . Insulting maid ! This form despis'd by thee wants not its charms , If in the liquid mirror of the sea I view myself aright , this face of mine A sanguine colour boasts ; these shaggy limbs For strength and swiftness form'd , and manly grace . SYLVIA . If charms like these want pow'r to gain my love , Blame my dull eyes , and my still duller mind . SATYR . To charm those eyes the aid of art I'll try , To move that mind the force of gifts I'll prove , A pair of turtles callow from the nest , Court the soft soothings of thy lilly-hand ; Oh ! learn of them to love , and pay my pains . SONG . Doves are Venus' birds , and bear Her chariot through the yielding air ; Cupid , with their feathers , wings Those darts th' unerring archer flings . Yet his soft rage the wantons prove , And all their little life , is love . SYLVIA . Melodious strains , indeed ! your music , Satyr , Nought equals , but your verse . SATYR . Do my songs please thee ? stay then and behold A vintage measure , and my skill applaud As in the harmonious maze I lightly move . Here on the verdant turf recline , while I Summon my fellows to the antic round . Enter SATYRS . Ye dear companions of my rural joys , This paragon of nymphs , this conquering fair Deigns to behold our sports ; begin and shew That Satyrs have their graces , and can tread With Bacchanalian skill the sprightly dance . Begin , I say . SYLVIA . This lawless rout with terror chills my heart : Seize the first happy moment , to retire . [ To NERINA . ] DANCE of the SATYRS . Sylvia and Nerina steal off when it is almost ended . SATYR . Ha , gone ! break off the dance : She is not here whose eyes I sought to charm . Ah ! cruel nymph , inexorable fair , Harder than tygers to be broke ; than rocks More fix'd in thy disdain ; more haughty far Than the vain peacock in its plumy pride . Why seek I thee with song and dance to move ? Colder than fountains ; like the sliding streams Impossible to hold : but here I swear By Pan , great author of our race , I swear , Since song , nor dance , nor gifts , nor pray'rs can move Thy stubborn soul , by force I'll crown my love . END of the FIRST ACT .
ACT the SECOND . SCENE continues . Enter SYLVIA and NYMPHS , as from hunting , with bows and arrows . First NYMPH . GRace of our woods ! sure Dian's self directs Thy still unerring dart . SYLVIA . Be her's the praise . Oh ! virgin huntress , to thy fav'ring smile Alone I owe , that foremost in the chace My shaft transfixes first the trembling prey . Thou speed'st the whistling arrow to its mark : Wing'd with thy swiftness o'er the plain I fly , And all my honours are deriv'd from thee . SONG . Cynthia , queen of rural pleasures , Pleasures which no guilt destroys , Thine are all health's choicest treasures , Thine are virtue's solid joys . [ Here the Satyr appears listening . ] SYLVIA . Now while the sun darts fierce the noon-tide blaze , Haste to the neighb'ring grove , fair nymphs , and shun His fervid ray ; mean time , in yonder vale Where pines and cedars mingling grateful shade , And from the stream which slowly glides beneath Excludes the light ; there will I bathe , then taste A short repose upon its flow'ry border . First NYMPH . Soft be thy slumbers , gentle maid , farewel ! Exeunt . The SATYR comes forward . SATYR . So my coy Nymph ! I think I hold thee now Safe in my toils ; go on , securely go To thy well-chosen privacy ; by Pan , It fits my purpose well : yes , stubborn maid ! There shalt thou find an unexpected guest , An injur'd lover bent on great revenge . SONG . I hate your sighing , fawning , lying , To cry each moment one is dying , In some sick puppy's tone . No : while her pride looks most demurely , Let me , invading , clasp securely What force has made my own . Exeunt Satyr . Enter PHILANDER in a melancholy posture . PHILANDER . SONG . In vain I strive to fly This soul-consuming care ; My sorrow's always nigh , And present every where . In vain I seek the grove , There no repose I find , What shades can shut out love ? Or cool the fever'd mind ? That sweetly-dashing stream , Those gales that whisper round , Increase the fatal flame , Enlarge the bleeding wound . The silent gloom of night Adds horror to my grief ; The gay return of light To me brings no relief . Why do I wander thus in woods alone ? Why vent to senseless trees my mournful plaints ; Sigh to the fleeting wind ; with tears deface The dimpled stream ? Oh ! Sylvia , cruel maid ! Thy pride a savage sacrifice demands , Nor will be satisfied with less than life . Enter THIRSIS . THIRSIS . I sought thee , dear Philander ! PHILANDER . Oh ! my Thirsis ! Why seek a wretch who cannot find himself ? Lost to each joy , to fierce despair a prey ? Fain would I shun all commerce with mankind : In these dark shades wear out the sad remains Of hated life . THIRSIS . Oh love ! thou tyrant of the human breast , Fierce and remorseless as the prowling wolf That nightly makes the helpless flock his prey : Falsly they call thee god of pleasing pains , Of gentle wishes and refin'd delights : Doubts , fears , and jealousies , surround thy throne ; Eternal sighs fan thy destructive fires , And broken hearts are thy sad sacrifice . PHILANDER . Such is , indeed , the fate of hopeless love ; And such is mine . THIRSIS . You make yourself your fate ; Love should be paid with love , and hate with hate . PHILANDER . SONG . In vain my passion you reprove , This heart , alas ! was form'd for love , His pains , if not his joys , to feel : Here the soft god has fix'd his throne , But oh ! 'midst sighs , and tears alone , Nor deigns the wounds he makes to heal . THIRSIS . Oh ! bend not thus thy drooping head to earth , Like tender plants beneath the beating storm ; This day thy father , by thy griefs impell'd , With grateful off'rings seeks his patron god ; Prostrate before his altar now he lies , And all his pious prayers ascend for thee . PHILANDER . To mine , alas ! no pitying pow'rs enclin'd , Unheard , and mingled with the vagrant wind . THIRSIS . Hope better now , for see thy fire appears , A solemn joy upon his brow he wears : Some pleasing news he brings . PHILANDER . Be still , my heart ! — Oh ! throb not thus , can hope be painful too ? Enter MONTANO . MONTANO . Oh ! thou to fierce despair a wretched prey , Much-lov'd , lamented youth . PHILANDER . Ill-omen'd pity ! Alas ! my father mourns my fate ; 'tis past , Hope is no more . MONTANO . I bring thee more than hope , My vows are heard , thy wishes all are crown'd , No more the haughty maid shall fly thy love . PHILANDER . Oh ! sounds which might arrest the stroke of death , Call back the soul to her abandon'd seat , And give it more than life , give immortality . MONTANO . With awful rev'rence hear the god's decree , At whose dread altars I so long have serv'd ; Sylvia , by plighted vows , thy lawful claim Must either yield this day to be thy bride , Or by her death — PHILANDER . Oh ! love ! almighty love ! What do I hear ? MONTANO . Or , by her death atone For violated faith . Thus dooms Apollo . PHILANDER . Is this to crown my wishes ? oh ! my father . MONTANO . Rash youth , repine not at the god's decree , But to the haughty fair reveal her sentence , This day to be a victim , or a bride , Is all her fate allows . PHILANDER . SONG . Oh ! stop that death-denouncing sound , Nor mix it with the passing air , Lest by some ruder zephyr found , 'Tis wasted to the trembling fair . His own soft cause love best can plead , Or let me die , or let me thus succeed . [ Exit . ] THIRSIS . Despair is in his eyes , oh ! sage Montano ! Should the proud nymph persist in her denial , Her sentence urg'd would aggravate his woe ; And , but forgive my sad foreboding fears , Perhaps involve him in her wretched fate . MONTANO . Dismiss thy fears , thy unexperienc'd youth Reads not the secret heart of varying woman ; Form'd to ensnare , and practis'd to delude , She flies , but flying , hopes to be pursu'd , With doubling arts long keeps the doubtful field , And yields , or seems to force alone to yield . END of the SECOND ACT .
ACT the THIRD . SCENE , A Grove . SYLVIA discovered sleeping at a distance ; PHILANDER enters and gazes on her . PHILANDER . SHE sleeps , and I may gaze securely now , Nor fear the lightning of her angry eyes ; So looks the goddess of the silver bow ! When by Eurota's lucid wave she lies . SONG . On those fair eye-lids , gentle sleep , Thy softest influence shed , Still in thy downy fetters keep The lovely , cruel maid . Ye sighing gales , ye murm'ring streams , Ye tenants of the grove , Oh ! lengthen out her pleasing dreams , And tune her soul to love . Conceal'd I'll guard thy slumbers , lovely maid , Lest some rude swain the sweet recess invade , Those charms a lover views with chasten'd fires , In vulgar breasts may kindle loose desires . Enter the SATYR looking about him . SATYR . Low murm'ring sounds I heard , yet none are here ; 'Twas but the whispers of the am'rous breeze That plays among the boughs . SYLVIA awaking . What do I see ? The brutal Satyr ! guard me , chaste Diana . SATYR . Aye , you may call your goddess to your aid , She hears you not ; the music of her hounds And beagle-horn will drown your feeble cries . SYLVIA . Ah ! whither would'st thou drag me , cruel Sylvan ? Help , help , some pitying power ! Enter PHILANDER . PHILANDER . Vile monster ! hence . The SATYR runs off . PHILANDER approaches SYLVIA , who turns from him . PHILANDER . Oh ! stedfast hate , yet hear me , cruel maid , If to have sav'd thee from the brutal rage Of that fierce Sylvan , claims one kind regard , Turn , turn , and listen to my ardent vows . SYLVIA . Why will you still this hated theme pursue ? Must I another Satyr find in you ? Both persecutors in a different way , My honour he , you would my heart betray . SONG . Love , o'er the abject breast may reign , With all his light fantastic train Of wishes , cares , and fond desires , Fears and hopes , and jealous fires , Be mine from the soft folly free ; Love has no charms like liberty . PHILANDER . Yet , yet , relent ! yield to a lover's prayer . SYLVIA . Away , or this detested theme forbear . PHILANDER . What shall I say , her stubborn mind to move ? Declare her sentence : no , forbid it love ! [ To her ] Yet hear me , Sylvia , e'er it be too late , Speak one kind word , for oh ! thy breath is fate . SYLVIA . Mark then my firm resolves , and oh ! be thou , Celestial maid , propitious to my vow ; With thee an humble vot'ry to remain , Tho' last and meanest of thy virgin train . If cold and temp'rate as thy own mild ray , Thy shades I haunt , and thy commands obey , Still , goddess , thy protection let me prove , And guard me from the sly seducer , love . [ Exit . ] PHILANDER . Stay , Sylvia , stay , and from these trembling lips Hear the stern god's decree — Alas ! she flies Swift as the trackless winds , to death she flies , Death less abhorr'd than me . Enter NERINA . NERINA . Here Sylvia should be found ; but sure I heard The plaintive voice of sorrow — 'tis Philander , Alas ! poor youth , he weeps , I will observe him . PHILANDER . Why wears The face of nature such a chearful smile ? Why this soft verdure ? why this gaudy bloom ? Fall horrors , fall , and make this beauteous scene Dark as my gloomy soul — oh Sylvia ! Sylvia ! NERINA . Would she were here , and heard thee . PHILANDER . Cold shadowy queen , who laugh'st at lover's woes , Thy self unloving , unbelov'd , now save From the sad doom incurr'd , thy beauteous vot'ry . NERINA ( approaching him ) Alas ! what doom ? speak'st thou of Sylvia , shepherd ? PHILANDER . Ha ! sure the goddess' self inspires the thought . Haste , haste Nerina , seek thy cruel friend , Tell her — oh heaven ! tell her that Phoebus claims Her forfeit life for violated faith : Fly , bid her seek Diana's sacred fane , And claim protection there . NERINA . Oh gen'rous youth ! oh my unhappy friend ! [ Exit running . ] Enter THIRSIS . THIRSIS . He's here : how shall I speak the dreadful news ? PHILANDER . Why art thou thus alarm'd ? say , dearest Thirsis . Alas ! 'tis the sad privilege of despair To fear no worse . THIRSIS . She has refus'd you then . — PHILANDER . She has , and oh ! with such a fix'd disdain ! Ungrateful maid , then when my timely aid Had sav'd her from a brutal Satyr's lust , Then to reject my humble suff'ring love , And , in despite of former ties , renew Her vows to the rough goddess of the woods . THIRSIS . Horrid ingratitude ! would thou could'st hate her . PHILANDER . Hate her ! yes , friend , I'll tear her from my breast . Oh ! may she feel , like me , the pangs of love , Like me unpity'd mourn , and sigh in vain . THIRSIS . The righteous gods , to nobler vengeance doom The perjur'd maid . PHILANDER . Oh ! Thirsis , there I'm lost . THIRSIS . Arcadia groans beneath Apollo's frown , In thee his priest is scorn'd ; the wrathful god Bends his dread bow o'er our devoted plains , And claims his victim . PHILANDER . Sylvia then must die ! THIRSIS . She must , my friend , e'en now with mild entreaty Thy father urg'd her to perform her vow , Scornful she heard , nor shook at the sad sentence Which he with tears pronounc'd . PHILANDER . Yet hold my heart , — Where is she now ? THRISIS . I saw her , guarded by the attending priests In sad procession , led tow'rds the temple : Her griev'd companions rend the air with cries , And beat their snowy breasts in wild despair . But she with haughty mien , erect and firm As the stern deity by her obey'd , Welcomes her fate ; nor can th'approach of death Banish the colour from her cheeks ; or rage And fierce disdain plant fresher roses there . PHILANDER . Oh ! Sylvia , must thou die ? THIRSIS . Alas ! my friend , You tremble , you look pale ; think on your wrongs , Think on her scorn , and th'impending curse That threats Arcadia , till the god's appeas'd . SOLEMN MUSIC at a distance . PHILANDER . By all the pangs that rend this tortur'd breast , The sad solemnity is now begun : Ah ! friend , farewel ! farewel my dearest Thirsis . [ Embracing him . ] THIRSIS . Ha ! whither now ? what mean'st thou , dear Philander ? PHILANDER . Oh Thirsis ! I must see her once again . THIRSIS . You must not go , forgive my friendly zeal . [ Holding him . ] PHILANDER . Off ! or by heaven this moment is my last . See , fate is in my power . [ Shewing a poniard . ] THIRSIS . Desp'rate youth ! [ Exit PHILANDER . THIRSIS following . ] SCENE changes to the temple of Apollo , an altar , priests attending : solemn music plays ; then the procession appears ; four priests walk two and two , Montano next with the sacred knife in his hand ; after him Sylvia in white , led by two priests , her head bound with the sacred fillets ; a train of virgins following weeping : they advance to the altar : the HYMN to Apollo is sung . HYMN to APOLLO . HAIL Phoebus , son of Jove , Great patron of the moving lyre , Whose sounds , soft peace and smiling joy inspire , And give new pleasures to the blest above . To thee our noblest lays belong , Thine is the poet , thine the song , Eternal source of light , of music , and of love . Hail ! mighty Paean , hail ! Asserter of thy father's throne , Thy force the rebel giants own , Who vainly hop'd against him to prevail : Thy name redeem'd Thessalia sings , And all her noblest off'rings brings To thee , by whose dread arm the monster Python fell . Who can thy frown sustain ? Or bear impure , thy piercing ray ? Thou , on the guilty bosom pour'st the day , And all the wretch's crimes are seen : Lo ! perjur'd beauty justly dies , Accept this awful sacrifice , And bless , oh ! bless Arcadia with thy smiles again . MONTANO . Ill-fated maid ! whose soul no pray'rs could move , No sorrows soften , and no vows could bind ; Tho' by thy fierce disdain , my hapless son In anguish wastes his days : tho' o'er Arcadia Apollo bends his fatal bow , and claims Thy forfeit life , yet still this aged hand Shrinks to perform its office . SYLVIA . You may spare Your ill-tim'd pity , priest , I need it not . O Cynthia ! guardian-goddess of my youth , To whom my virgin vows have still been paid ; I die thy votary , and this pure blood Shed in thy cause , seals me for ever thine . MONTANO to the PRIESTS . Lead her to the altar . Enter PHILANDER . PHILANDER . I charge you hold . MONTANO . Rash youth retire , nor with your useless grief Profane the solemn rites . PHILANDER . Oh ! give me way . — I swear the awful pow'r shall be appeas'd , He shall , my father ; only suffer me To kneel before that dear devoted maid , And groan for pardon , since she dies my victim . SYLVIA to PHILANDER , who kneels . Hence , from my sight , and let me die in peace . PHILANDER rising . Oh , cruel even in death ! yet hold , my heart , Break not , e'er thy sad purpose is compleated , Lest heaven reject th'imperfect sacrifice . SYLVIA . What mean'st thou ? PHILANDER . Mighty love ! This is thy triumph , Sylvia thou art free , Oh ! hate not life , because it is my gift ; Thus I appease the god , and die to save thee . Kneels before the altar , and as he raises his arm to stab himself , Thirsis enters and holds him . THIRSIS . Help ! save him , help ! MONTANO . My son ! my dear Philander ! SYLVIA . Oh ! wond'rous proof of unexampled love ! MONTANO . Eternal night shroud my unhappy eyes . THIRSIS . Why this excess of grief ? your son is safe . MONTANO . No pow'r on earth Can save him now , our sacred law forbids A second victim ; well he knew it's force , And hence this dire resolve . SYLVIA . Ah me ! unhappy — MONTANO . Dost thou weep , proud maid ? Inhuman tears ! such the hyena sheds Over her helpless prey . PHILANDER . Oh ! sacred drops , To me more grateful than the morning dew On dying plants ; then dost thou pity me ? SYLVIA . Pity ! yet sure there is a softer name For what I feel this moment — oh Philander ! PHILANDER . Why dost thou pause ? why dost thou turn away ? Speak , speak again , and bless my ravish'd eyes With one look more , then let them close for ever . SYLVIA . For me thou shalt not die . PHILANDER . For thee I will , And oh ! be witness , love ! With what extatic joy I meet my fate . MONTANO . Ungrateful to a father's tender cares , A faithful lover , but a son unkind ! Yet let me fold thee to my aking breast Before we part for ever , — now farewel ! Receive your victim , priests , but spare my eyes The dreadful sight ! — I go to weep and die . SYLVIA . Stay , holy sire . MONTANO . What would'st thou ? SYLVIA . O ! behold The only lawful victim , save your son , And strike this harden'd breast . MONTANO . Away , fond maid ! Your pity comes too late — oh , my Philander ! [ Going . ] SYLVIA . Oh ! youth , too little known , belov'd too late , Thou shalt not conquer in this noble strife : I cannot change , but I will share thy fate , And death shall give what I deny'd in life . [ Snatches a dart from one of the nymphs . ] PHILANDER ( catching hold of her . ) Oh ! hold thy hand , or hate me once again : Live , beauteous maid , nor let me die in vain . Thunder ; a bright cloud appears ; Apollo is discovered seated in his chariot ; soft music as he descends . MONTANO . He comes , the awful god himself appears ! Kneel , and confess the present deity . [ All kneel . ] APOLLO . Returning virtue's contrite sighs , Are heaven's most pleasing sacrifice ; Through the wide space of yielding air , The winds the grateful incense bear , And waft it to the skies . Blest shepherd ! who such truth could prove , Blest maid ! whom truth at last could move ; On you th'immortal pow'rs bestow Their best , their fairest gifts below , Peace , innocence , and love . MONTANO . Oh ! pow'r by me ador'd , with awful love , With duteous rev'rence serv'd , gracious , accept A happy father's thanks . PHILANDER . Oh ! son of Jove , Immortal Phoebus , light-dispensing god , And theme of verse perpetual , be thy praise For ever sung by me . SYLVIA . Oh ! pow'r benign ! Fav'rite of gods and men , my grateful heart To thee its purest vows shall ever pay . PHILANDER to SYLVIA . Restor'd to life , to hope , to love , and thee , Now let me gaze upon thy beauteous eyes , And read my bliss confirm'd , or else in vain A god pronounc'd me happy . SYLVIA . Dearest and best Of all thy sex ; oh ! if thou read'st not there The softest , truest passion , that e'er warm'd A virgin-breast , they injure what I feel . PHILANDER ( taking her hand ) Oh ! sweet reward of suff'ring love ; oh ! bliss Unutterable . MONTANO . Still may your joys increase , a virtuous flame Knows no decay , and burns through life the same ; Like noon-tide sun it glows in youth's short day , And milder friendship is its setting ray .
FINIS .