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rice, and luxury, introduce tyranny; and at the time the story commences, the sceptre is swayed by "a hot-spur'd youth, hight Hylas." Thealma, the daughter of the King of Lemnos, flying from her father's court with her lover, Clearchus, is shipwrecked on the Arcadian coast. Clearchus is supposed to be drowned; and Thealma, taking refuge in the house of a shepherd, employs herself in tending his flocks.

"Scarce had the ploughman yoked his horned team,
And lock'd their traces to the crooked beam,
When fair Thealma with a maiden scorn,

That day before her rise, out-blush'd the morn :
Scarce had the sun gilded the mountain tops,
When forth she leads her tender ewes.-

Down in a valley, 'twixt two rising hills,
From whence the dew in silver drops distills
T'enrich the lowly plain, a river ran

Hight Cygnus; (as some think from Leda's swan
That there frequented) gently on it glides,
And makes indentures in her crooked sides,
And with her silent murmurs rocks asleep
Her wat❜ry inmates: 'twas not very deep,
But clear as that Narcissus look'd in, when
His self-love made him cease to live with men.
Close by the river was a thick leaf'd grove,
Where swains of old sang stories of their love;
But unfrequented now, since Colin died,
Colin, that king of shepherds, and the pride

Of all Arcadia :-here Thealma used

To feed her milky droves, and as they brows'd
Under the friendly shadow of a beech,

She sate her down; grief had tongue-tied her speech,
Her words were sighs and tears; dumb eloquence :

Heard only by the sobs, and not the sense.
With folded arms she sate, as if she meant
To hug those woes which in her breast were pent.
Her looks were nail'd to earth, that drank
Her tears with greediness, and seem'd to thank
Her for those briny showers, and in lieu
Returns her flow'ry sweetness for her dew.

'O, my Clearchus,' said she, and with tears
Embalms his name:-'O! if the ghosts have ears,


Or souls departed condescend so low,
To sympathize with mortals in their woe;
Vouchsafe to lend a gentle ear to me,

Whose life is worse than death, since not with thee.
What privilege have they that are born great

More than the meanest swain? The proud waves beat
With more impetuousness upon high lands,
Than on the flat and less resisting strands:
The lofty cedar, and the knotty oak,

Are subject more unto the thunder-stroke,

Than the low shrubs, that no such shocks endure,
Ev'n their contempt doth make them live secure.
Had I been born the child of some poor swain,
Whose thoughts aspire no higher than the plain,
I had been happy then; t' have kept these sheep,
Had been a princely pleasure; quiet sleep

Had drown'd my cares, or sweeten'd them with dreams:
Love and content had been my music's themes;

Or had Clearchus liv'd the life I lead,

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While she is discoursing of her griefs with her maid, Ca

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Rush'd from the wood, enrag'd by a deep wound

Some huntsman gave him: up he ploughs the ground,
And whetting of his tusks, about 'gan roam

Champing his venom's moisture into foam.

The sheep ran bleating o'er the pleasant plain,
And airy Echo answers them again."

They are rescued from destruction by the arrival of a huntsman, who kills the enraged savage.

"He was but young, scarce did the hair begin

In shadows to write man upon his chin:

Tall and well set, his hair a chesnut brown,
His looks majestic, 'twixt a smile and frown."

This stranger turns out to be her brother Anaxus, who had left his native land in search of his mistress Clarinda, whose father had been banished from Lemnos by the king.

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The marigold shuts up her golden flowers,
And the sweet song-birds hied unto their bowers.
Night-swaying Morpheus clothes the east in black,
And Cynthia following her brother's track
With new and brighter rays, herself adorns,

Lighting the starry tapers at her horns.
Homeward Anaxus and Thealma wend,

Where we must leave them for awhile, to end

The story of their sorrows."

The Arcadians, driven to revolt by the tyranny of Hylas, choose for their leader Alexis, a foreign youth, who had distinguished himself at their festive games.

"He had a man-like look, and sparkling eye,

A front whereon sate such a majesty

As aw'd all his beholders; his long hair,
After the Grecian fashion, without care
Hung loosely on his shoulders, black as jet,
And shining with his oily honour'd sweat;
His body straight, and well proportion'd, tall,
Well limb'd, well set, long arm'd ;-one hardly shall
Among a thousand find one in all points,

So well compact, and sinew'd in his joints.

But that which crown'd the rest, he had a tongue
Whose sweetness toal'd unwillingness along,
And drew attention from the dullest ear,

His words so oily smooth and winning were."

Hylas meanwhile was occupied with other cares. He had been smitten with the charms of Florimel, the daughter of Memnon, a Lemnian exile, and after several ineffectual attempts on her virtue, had had recourse to violence, but was prevented, and obliged to save himself by flight from the rage of Memnon and his followers. Before Memnon has time to escape from Arcadia with his family, Hylas returns and surrounds the house with his troops. Memnon contrives to conceal his daughter in a hidden apartment, and, on his refusal to discover her retreat, Hylas, enraged, orders the house to be set on fire. At this moment intelligence is brought of the insurrection, and Hylas hastens to oppose the insurgents. He is defeated and slain, and Alexis is chosen king.

Anaxus taking leave of his sister proceeds in search of his Clarinda retreating into a forest for shelter "gainst the sun's scorching heat,"

"Within a little silent grove hard by,
Upon a small ascent he might espy
A stately chapel, richly gilt without,
Beset with shady sycamores about:
And ever and anon he might well hear
A sound of music steal in at his ear

As the wind gave it being :-so sweet an air
Would strike a syren mute.-


A hundred virgins there he might espy
Prostrate before a marble deity,
Which, by its portraiture, appear❜d to be
The image of Diana :-on their knee

They tender'd their devotions: with sweet airs,
Off'ring the incense of their praise and prayers.
Their garments all alike; beneath their paps
Buckled together with a silver claps,

And cross their snowy silken robes, they wore
An azure scarf, with stars embroider'd o'er.
Their hair in curious tresses was knit up,
Crown'd with a silver crescent on the top.
A silver bow their left hand held, their right,
For their defence, held a sharp-headed flight
Drawn from their broid'red quiver, neatly tied
In silken cords, and fasten'd to their side.
Under their vestments, something short before,
White buskins, lac'd with ribbanding, they wore.
It was a catching sight for a young eye,
That love had fir'd before :-he might espy
One, whom the rest had sphere-like circled round,
Whose head was with a golden chaplet crown'd.
He could not see her face, only his ear

Was blest with the sweet words that came from her."

The devotions of these nymphs are interrupted by a band of robbers, and after a show of resistance they take to flight, but some of the boldest, and amongst them their beautiful leader, are taken prisoners. Anaxus, on this, furiously rushes among the bandits, kills their leader, and speedily routs them. The virgins during this contest had dispersed and fled, but Anaxus, who had been severely wounded in the struggle, is opportunely relieved by Sylvanus, a benevolent recluse.

“A trim old man he was, though age had plough'd
Up many wrinkles in his brow, and bow'd

His body somewhat tow'rd the earth: his hairs,
Like the snow's woolly flakes, made white with cares,
The thorns that now and then pluck'd off the down,
And wore away for baldness to a crown:

His broad kemb'd beard hung down near to his waist,
The only comely ornament that grac'd

His reverend old age,-his feet were bare

But for his leathern sandals, which he ware

To keep them clean from galling, which compell'd
Him use a staff to help him to the field.

He durst not trust his legs, they fail'd him then,
And he was almost grown a child again:
Yet sound in judgement, not impair'd in mind,
For age had rather the soul's parts refin'd
Than any way infirm'd; his wit no less
Than 'twas in youth, his memory as fresh ;
He fail'd in nothing but his earthly part,
That tended to its centre; yet his heart
Was still the same, and beat as lustily."

Sylvanus, to complete his cure, takes Anaxus home with him to his cell,

"whose poor outside

Promis'd as mean a lodging; pomp and pride

(Those peacocks of the time,) ne'er roosted there,
Content and lowliness the inmates were.

It was not so contemptible within,

There was some show of beauty that had been
Made much of in old time, but now well nigh

Worn out with envious time :"

Thealma, somewhat cheered in spirit by her unexpected meeting with her brother, and still more by a dream which told her that Clearchus lived,

trick'd herself in all her best attire,
As if she meant this day t' invite desire
To fall in love with her: her loose hair
Hung on her shoulders sporting with the air:
Her brow a coronet of rose-buds crown'd,
With loving woodbine's sweet embraces bound.
Two globe-like pearls were pendant to her ears,
And on her breast a costly gem she wears,
An adamant, in fashion like a heart,
Whereon love sat, a plucking out a dart,
With this same motto graven round about
On a gold border; Sooner in, than out.

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