His chang’d yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss’d,
From the lov’d trunk plucking a little bough,
And though the conquest which he sought he miss’d,
With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow.10
Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives:
Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves.
Song: Torment of Absence and Delay.
[Montalvan.]
Torment of absence and delay
That thus afflicts my memory!
Why dost thou kill me every day,
Yet will not give me leave to die?
Why dost thou suffer me to live5
All hope of life in life denying,
Or to my patience tortures give
Never to die, yet ever dying?
To fair Narcissa’s brighter eyes
I was by Love’s instruction guided,10
(A happiness I long did prize,)
But now am from their light divided.
Favours and gifts my suit obtain’d,
But envious Fate would now destroy them,
Which if to lose I only gain’d,15
What greater pain than to enjoy them?
A Lady Weeping.
[Montalvan.]
As when some brook flies from itself away,
The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray,
And, as about the verdant plain it winds,
The meadows with a silver ribbon binds,
Printing a kiss on every flower she meets,5
Losing herself to fill them with new sweets,
To scatter frost upon the lily’s head.
And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread,—
So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise
Of humid stars,[63:1] flow’d from bright Chloris’ eyes,10
Which, watering every flower her cheek discloses,
Melts into jasmines here, there into roses.