The Musick of his Voice can Charm as well,
When tun'd to words of Love, and sighs among,
With the soft tremblings of his bashful tongue,
And, Thirsis, you accuse my Faith in vain,
To think it wavering, for another Swain;
'Tis admiration now that fills my soul,
And does ev'n love suspend, if not controul.
My thoughts are solemn all, and do appear
With wonder in my Eyes, and not despair!
My heart is entertain'd with silent Joys,
And I am pleas'd above the Mirth of Noise.
Thirsis.
What new-born pleasure can divert you so?
Pray let me hear, that I may wonder too.
Amarillis.
Last night, by yonder purling stream I stood,
Pleas'd with the murmurs of the little Flood,
Who in its rapid glidings bore away
The Fringing Flow'rs, that made the Bank so gay,
Which I compar'd to fickle Swains, who invade
First this, then that deceiv'd, and yielding Maid:
Whose flattering Vows an easie passage find, }
Then unregarded leave 'em far behind, }
To sigh their Ruin to the flying Wind. }
So the soild flow'rs their rifled Beautes hung,
While the triumphant Ravisher passes on.
This while I sighing view'd, I heard a voice
That made the Woods, the Groves, and Hills rejoyce.
Who eccho'd back the charming sound again, }
Answering the Musick of each softning strain, }
And told the wonder over all the Plain. }
Young Silvio 'twas that tun'd his happy Pipe,
The best that ever grac'd a Shepherds Lip!
Silvio of Noble Race, yet not disdains
To mix his harmony with Rustic Swains,
To th' humble Shades th' Illustrious Youth resorts, }
Shunning the false delights of gaudy Courts, }
For the more solid happiness of Rural sports. }
Courts which his Noble Father long pursu'd,
And Serv'd till he out-serv'd their gratitude.
Thirsis.
Oh Amarillis, let that tale no more
Remembred be on the Arcadian Shore,
Lest Mirth should on our Meads no more be found,
But Stafford's Story should throughout resound,
And fill with pitying cryes the Echoes all around.
Amarillis.
Arcadia, keep your peace, but give me leave,
Who knew the Heroes Loyalty, to grieve;
Once, Thirsis, by th' Arcadian Kings Commands,
I left these Shades, to visit foreign Lands;
Imploy'd in public toils of State Affairs,
Unusual with my Sex, or to my Years;
There 'twas my chance, so Fortune did ordain,
To see this great, this good, this God-like Man:
Brave, Pious, Loyal, Just, without constraint,
The Soul all Angell, and the Man a Saint;
His temper'd mind no Passion e'er inflam'd,
But when his King and Countrey were profan'd;
Then oft I've seen his generous blood o'er spread
His awful face, with a resenting Red,
In Anger quit the Room, and would disdain
To herd with the Rebellious Publican.
But, Thirsis, 'twould a worship'd Volume fill,
If I the Heroes wondrous Life should tell;
His Vertues were his Crime, like God he bow'd
A necessary Victim to the frantick Croud;
So a tall sheltring Oak that long had stood,
The mid-days shade, and glory of the Wood;
Whose aged boughs a reverence did command,
Fell lop'd at last by an Ignoble hand:
And all his branches are in pieces torn,
That Victors grac'd, and did the Wood adorn.
—With him young Silvio, who compos'd his Joys,
The darling of his Soul and of his Eyes,
Inheriting the Vertues of his Sire,
But all his own is his Poetic fire;
When young, the Gods of Love, and Wit did grace
The pointed, promis'd Beautys of his face,
Which ripening years did to perfection bring,
And taught him how to Love, and how to Sing.
Thirsis.