(1.)
_Damon, I cannot blame your Will, ’.was Chance, and not Design, did kill; For whilst you did prepare your Arms On purpose Celia to subdue, I met the Arrows as they flew, And sav’d her from their Harms.
(2.)
Alas, she could not make returns.
Who for a Swain already turns,
A Shepherd, who does her caress
With all the softest Marks of Love;
And ‘tis in vain thou seek’st to move
The cruel Shepherdess.
(3.)
Content thee with this Victory,
I’m Young and Beautiful as she;
I’ll make thee Garlands all the Day,
And in the Shades we’ll sit and sing;
I’ll crown thee with the Pride o’th’ Spring,
When thou art Lord o’th’ May_.
Enter Urania dress’d gay, Lyces a Shepherdess.
Ly. Still as I sing you sigh.
Uran. I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns
The Echoes of these shady Groves repeat,
But I must find some Softness at my Heart.
—Wou’d I had never known another Dwelling,
But this too happy one where thou wert born! [Sighs.
Ly. You sigh again: such things become None but unhappy Maids that are forsaken; Your Beauty is too great to suffer that.
Ura. No Beauty’s proof against false perjur’d Man.
Ly. Is’t possible you can have lost your Love?