Scene.
The Plain of Enna as before.
Enter Ino & Eunoe.
EUNOE.
How weary am I! and the hot sun flushes
My cheeks that else were white with fear and grief[.]
E’er since that fatal day, dear sister nymph,
On which we lost our lovely Proserpine,
I have but wept and watched the livelong night
And all the day have wandered through the woods[.]
INO.
How all is changed since that unhappy eve!
Ceres forever weeps, seeking her child,
And in her rage has struck the land with blight;
Trinacria mourns with her;—its fertile fields
Are dry and barren, and all little brooks
Struggling scarce creep within their altered banks;
The flowers that erst were wont with bended heads,
To gaze within the clear and glassy wave,
Have died, unwatered by the failing stream.—
And yet their hue but mocks the deeper grief
Which is the fountain of these bitter tears.
But who is this, that with such eager looks
Hastens this way?—
EUNOE.
’Tis fairest Arethuse,
A stranger naiad, yet you know her well.
INO.
My eyes were blind with tears.
Enter Arethusa.
Dear Arethuse,
Methinks I read glad tidings in your eyes,
Your smiles are the swift messengers that bear
A tale of coming joy, which we, alas!
Can answer but with tears, unless you bring
To our grief solace, Hope to our Despair.
Have you found Proserpine? or know you where
The loved nymph wanders, hidden from our search?
ARETHUSE.
Where is corn-crowned Ceres? I have hastened
To ease her anxious heart.
EUNOE.
Oh! dearest Naiad,
Herald of joy! Now will great Ceres bless
Thy welcome coming & more welcome tale.
INO.
Since that unhappy day when Ceres lost
Her much-loved child, she wanders through the isle;
Dark blight is showered from her looks of sorrow;—
And where tall corn and all seed-bearing grass
Rose from beneath her step, they wither now
Fading under the frown of her bent brows:
The springs decrease;—the fields whose delicate green
Was late her chief delight, now please alone,
Because they, withered, seem to share her grief.