Proserpine

DRAMATIS PERSONAE (Persons Represented):

CERES

PROSERPINE

INO, EUNOE, Nymphs attendant upon Proserpine.

IRIS

ARETHUSA, Naiad of a Spring.

Shades from Hell, among which ASCALAPHUS.

Scene.—The plain of Enna, in Sicily.

[Scene;—a beautiful plain, shadowed on one side by an overhanging rock, on the other a chesnut wood. Etna at a distance.]

PROSERPINE.

Dear Mother, leave me not! I love to rest

Under the shadow of that hanging cave

And listen to your tales. Your Proserpine

Entreats you stay; sit on this shady bank,

And as I twine a wreathe tell once again

The combat of the Titans and the Gods;

Or how the Python fell beneath the dart

Of dread Apollo; or of Daphne's change,–

That coyest Grecian maid, whose pointed leaves

Now shade her lover's brow. And I the while

Gathering the starry flowers of this fair plain

Will weave a chaplet, Mother, for thy hair.

But without thee, the plain I think is vacant,

Its blossoms fade,–its tall fresh grasses droop,

Nodding their heads like dull things half asleep;–

Go not, dear Mother, from your Proserpine.

CERES.

My lovely child, it is high Jove's command:–

The golden self-moved seats surround his throne,

The nectar is poured out by Ganymede,

And the ambrosia fills the golden baskets;

They drink, for Bacchus is already there,

But none will eat till I dispense the food.

I must away–dear Proserpine, farewel!–

Eunoe can tell thee how the giants fell;

Or dark-eyed Ino sing the saddest change

Of Syrinx or of Daphne, or the doom

Of impious Prometheus, and the boy

Of fair Pandora, Mother of mankind.

This only charge I leave thee and thy nymphs,–

Depart not from each other; be thou circled

By that fair guard, and then no earth-born Power

Would tempt my wrath, and steal thee from their sight

But wandering alone, by feint or force,

You might be lost, and I might never know

Thy hapless fate. Farewel, sweet daughter mine,

Remember my commands.

PROSERPINE.

–Mother, farewel!

Climb the bright sky with rapid wings; and swift

As a beam shot from great Apollo's bow

Rebounds from the calm mirror of the sea

Back to his quiver in the Sun, do thou

Return again to thy loved Proserpine.

[Exit CERES.]

And now, dear Nymphs, while the hot sun is high

Darting his influence right upon the plain,

Let us all sit beneath the narrow shade

That noontide Etna casts.–And, Ino, sweet,

Come hither; and while idling thus we rest,

Repeat in verses sweet the tale which says

How great Prometheus from Apollo's car

Stole heaven's fire–a God-like gift for Man!

Or the more pleasing tale of Aphrodite;

How she arose from the salt Ocean's foam,

And sailing in her pearly shell, arrived

On Cyprus sunny shore, where myrtles bloomed

And sweetest flowers, to welcome Beauty's Queen;

And ready harnessed on the golden sands

Stood milk-white doves linked to a sea-shell car,

With which she scaled the heavens, and took her seat

Among the admiring Gods.

EUNOE.

Proserpine's tale

Is sweeter far than Ino's sweetest song.

PROSERPINE.

Ino, you knew erewhile a River-God,

Who loved you well and did you oft entice

To his transparent waves and flower-strewn banks.

He loved high poesy and wove sweet sounds,

And would sing to you as you sat reclined

On the fresh grass beside his shady cave,

From which clear waters bubbled, dancing forth,

And spreading freshness in the noontide air.

When you returned you would enchant our ears

With tales and songs which did entice the fauns,

With Pan their King from their green haunts, to hear.

Tell me one now, for like the God himself,

Tender they were and fanciful, and wrapt

The hearer in sweet dreams of shady groves,

Blue skies, and clearest, pebble-paved streams.

INO.

I will repeat the tale which most I loved;

Which tells how lily-crowned Arethusa,

Your favourite Nymph, quitted her native Greece,

Flying the liquid God Alpheus, who followed,

Cleaving the desarts of the pathless deep,

And rose in Sicily, where now she flows

The clearest spring of Enna's gifted plain.

Arethusa arose

From her couch of snows,

In the Acroceraunian mountains,–

From cloud, and from crag,

With many a jag,

Shepherding her bright fountains.

She leapt down the rocks

With her rainbow locks,

Streaming among the streams,–

Her steps paved with green

The downward ravine,

Which slopes to the Western gleams:–

And gliding and springing,

She went, ever singing

In murmurs as soft as sleep;

The Earth seemed to love her

And Heaven smiled above her,

As she lingered towards the deep.

Then Alpheus bold

On his glacier cold,

With his trident the mountains strook;

And opened a chasm

In the rocks;–with the spasm

All Erymanthus shook.

And the black south wind

It unsealed behind

The urns of the silent snow,

And earthquake and thunder

Did rend in sunder

The bars of the springs below:–

And the beard and the hair

Of the river God were

Seen through the torrent's sweep

As he followed the light

Of the fleet nymph's flight

To the brink of the Dorian deep.

Oh, save me! oh, guide me!

And bid the deep hide me,

For he grasps me now by the hair!

The loud ocean heard,

To its blue depth stirred,

And divided at her prayer,

And under the water

The Earth's white daughter

Fled like a sunny beam,

Behind her descended

Her billows unblended

With the brackish Dorian stream:–

Like a gloomy stain

On the Emerald main

Alpheus rushed behind,

As an eagle pursueing

A dove to its ruin,

Down the streams of the cloudy wind.

Under the bowers

Where the Ocean Powers

Sit on their pearled thrones,

Through the coral woods

Of the weltering floods,

Over heaps of unvalued stones;

Through the dim beams,

Which amid the streams

Weave a network of coloured light,

And under the caves,

Where the shadowy waves

Are as green as the forest's night:–

Outspeeding the shark,

And the sword fish dark,

Under the Ocean foam,

And up through the rifts

Of the mountain clifts,

They passed to their Dorian Home.

And now from their fountains

In Enna's mountains,

Down one vale where the morning basks,

Like friends once parted,

Grown single hearted

They ply their watery tasks.

At sunrise they leap

From their cradles steep

In the cave of the shelving hill,–

At noontide they flow

Through the woods below

And the meadows of asphodel,–

And at night they sleep

In the rocking deep

Beneath the Ortygian shore;–

Like spirits that lie

In the azure sky,

When they love, but live no more.

PROSERPINE.

Thanks, Ino dear, you have beguiled an hour

With poesy that might make pause to list

The nightingale in her sweet evening song.

But now no more of ease and idleness,

The sun stoops to the west, and Enna's plain

Is overshadowed by the growing form

Of giant Etna:–Nymphs, let us arise,

And cull the sweetest flowers of the field,

And with swift fingers twine a blooming wreathe

For my dear Mother's rich and waving hair.

EUNOE.

Violets blue and white anemonies

Bloom on the plain,–but I will climb the brow

Of that o'erhanging hill, to gather thence

That loveliest rose, it will adorn thy crown;

Ino, guard Proserpine till my return.

[Exit.]

INO.

How lovely is this plain!–Nor Grecian vale,

Nor bright Ausonia's ilex bearing shores,

The myrtle bowers of Aphrodite's sweet isle,

Or Naxos burthened with the luscious vine,

Can boast such fertile or such verdant fields

As these, which young Spring sprinkles with her stars;–

Nor Crete which boasts fair Amalthea's horn

Can be compared with the bright golden fields

Of Ceres, Queen of plenteous Sicily.

PROSERPINE.

Sweet Ino, well I know the love you bear

My dearest Mother prompts your partial voice,

And that love makes you doubly dear to me.

But you are idling,–look, my lap is full

Of sweetest flowers;–haste to gather more,

That before sunset we may make our crown.

Last night as we strayed through that glade, methought

The wind that swept my cheek bore on its wings

The scent of fragrant violets, hid

Beneath the straggling underwood; Haste, sweet,

To gather them; fear not–I will not stray.

INO.

Nor fear that I shall loiter in my task.

[Exit.]

PROSERPINE. [Sings as she gathers her flowers.]

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,

Thou from whose immortal bosom

Gods, and men, and beasts have birth,

Leaf, and blade, and bud, and blossom,

Breathe thine influence most divine

On thine own child Proserpine.

If with mists of evening dew

Thou dost nourish these young flowers

Till they grow in scent and hue

Fairest children of the hours,

Breathe thine influence most divine

On thine own child Proserpine.

[she looks around.]

My nymphs have left me, neglecting the commands

Of my dear Mother. Where can they have strayed?

Her caution makes me fear to be alone;–

I'll pass that yawning cave and seek the spring

Of Arethuse, where water-lilies bloom

Perhaps the nymph now wakes tending her waves,

She loves me well and oft desires my stay,–

The lilies shall adorn my mother's crown.

[Exit.]

[After a pause enter EUNOE.]

EUNOE.

I've won my prize! look at this fragrant rose!

But where is Proserpine? Ino has strayed

Too far I fear, and she will be fatigued,

As I am now, by my long toilsome search.

[Enter INO.]

Oh! you here, Wanderer! Where is Proserpine?

INO.

My lap's heaped up with sweets; dear Proserpine,

You will not chide me now for idleness;–

Look here are all the treasures of the field,–

First these fresh violets, which crouched beneath

A mossy rock, playing at hide and seek

With both the sight and sense through the high fern;

Star-eyed narcissi & the drooping bells

Of hyacinths; and purple polianthus,

Delightful flowers are these; but where is she,

The loveliest of them all, our Mistress dear?

EUNOE.

I know not, even now I left her here,

Guarded by you, oh Ino, while I climbed

Up yonder steep for this most worthless rose:–

Know you not where she is? Did you forget

Ceres' behest, and thus forsake her child?

INO.

Chide not, unkind Eunoe, I but went

Down that dark glade, where underneath the shade

Of those high trees the sweetest violets grow,–

I went at her command. Alas! Alas!

My heart sinks down; I dread she may be lost;–

Eunoe, climb the hill, search that ravine,

Whose close, dark sides may hide her from our view:–

Oh, dearest, haste! Is that her snow-white robe?

EUNOE.

No;–'tis a fawn beside its sleeping Mother,

Browsing the grass;–what will thy Mother say,

Dear Proserpine, what will bright Ceres feel,

If her return be welcomed not by thee?

INO.

These are wild thoughts,–& we are wrong to fear

That any ill can touch the child of heaven;

She is not lost,–trust me, she has but strayed

Up some steep mountain path, or in yon dell,

Or to the rock where yellow wall-flowers grow,

Scaling with venturous step the narrow path

Which the goats fear to tread;–she will return

And mock our fears.

EUNOE.

The sun now dips his beams

In the bright sea; Ceres descends at eve

From Jove's high conclave; if her much-loved child

Should meet her not in yonder golden field,

Where to the evening wind the ripe grain waves

Its yellow head, how will her heart misgive.

Let us adjure the Naiad of yon brook,

She may perchance have seen our Proserpine,

And tell us to what distant field she's strayed:–

Wait thou, dear Ino, here, while I repair

To the tree-shaded source of her swift stream.

[Exit EUNOE.]

INO.

Why does my heart misgive? & scalding tears,

That should but mourn, now prophecy her loss?

Oh, Proserpine! Where'er your luckless fate

Has hurried you,–to wastes of desart sand,

Or black Cymmerian cave, or dread Hell,

Yet Ino still will follow! Look where Eunoe

Comes, with down cast eyes and faltering steps,

I fear the worst;–

[Re-enter EUNOE.]

Has she not then been seen?

EUNOE.

Alas, all hope is vanished! Hymera says

She slept the livelong day while the hot beams

Of Phoebus drank her waves;–nor did she wake

Until her reed-crowned head was wet with dew;–

If she had passed her grot she slept the while.

INO.

Alas! Alas! I see the golden car,

And hear the flapping of the dragons wings,

Ceres descends to Earth. I dare not stay,

I dare not meet the sorrow of her look,

The angry glance of her severest eyes.

EUNOE.

Quick up the mountain! I will search the dell,

She must return, or I will never more.

[Exit.]

INO.

And yet I will not fly, though I fear much

Her angry frown and just reproach, yet shame

Shall quell this childish fear, all hope of safety

For her lost child rests but in her high power,

And yet I tremble as I see her come.

[Enter CERES.]

CERES.

Where is my daughter? have I aught to dread?

Where does she stray? Ino, you answer not;–

She was aye wont to meet me in yon field,–

Your looks bode ill;–I fear my child is lost.

INO.

Eunoe now seeks her track among the woods;

Fear not, great Ceres, she has only strayed.

CERES.

Alas! My boding heart,–I dread the worst.

Oh, careless nymphs! oh, heedless Proserpine!

And did you leave her wandering by herself?

She is immortal,–yet unusual fear

Runs through my veins. Let all the woods be sought,

Let every dryad, every gamesome faun

Tell where they last beheld her snowy feet

Tread the soft, mossy paths of the wild wood.

But that I see the base of Etna firm

I well might fear that she had fallen a prey

To Earth-born Typheus, who might have arisen

And seized her as the fairest child of heaven,

That in his dreary caverns she lies bound;

It is not so: all is as safe and calm

As when I left my child. Oh, fatal day!

Eunoe does not return: in vain she seeks

Through the black woods and down the darksome glades,

And night is hiding all things from our view.

I will away, and on the highest top

Of snowy Etna, kindle two clear flames.

Night shall not hide her from my anxious search,

No moment will I rest, or sleep, or pause

Till she returns, until I clasp again

My only loved one, my lost Proserpine.

END OF ACT FIRST.

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?

ARETHUSA.

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.

ARETHUSA.

Unhappy Goddess! how I pity thee!

INO.

At night upon high Etna's topmost peak

She lights two flames, that shining through the isle

Leave dark no wood, or cave, or mountain path,

Their sunlike splendour makes the moon-beams dim,

And the bright stars are lost within their day.

She's in yon field,–she comes towards this plain,

Her loosened hair has fallen on her neck,

Uncircled by the coronal of grain:–

Her cheeks are wan,–her step is faint & slow.

[Enter CERES.]

CERES.

I faint with weariness: a dreadful thirst

Possesses me! Must I give up the search?

Oh! never, dearest Proserpine, until

I once more clasp thee in my vacant arms!

Help me, dear Arethuse! fill some deep shell

With the clear waters of thine ice-cold spring,

And bring it me;–I faint with heat and thirst.

ARETHUSA.

My words are better than my freshest waves:

I saw your Proserpine–

CERES.

Arethusa, where?

Tell me! my heart beats quick, & hope and fear

Cause my weak limbs to fail me.–

ARETHUSA.

Sit, Goddess,

Upon this mossy bank, beneath the shade

Of this tall rock, and I will tell my tale.

The day you lost your child, I left my source.

With my Alpheus I had wandered down

The sloping shore into the sunbright sea;

And at the coast we paused, watching the waves

Of our mixed waters dance into the main:–

When suddenly I heard the thundering tread

Of iron hoofed steeds trampling the ground,

And a faint shriek that made my blood run cold.

I saw the King of Hell in his black car,

And in his arms he bore your fairest child,

Fair as the moon encircled by the night,–

But that she strove, and cast her arms aloft,

And cried, "My Mother!"–When she saw me near

She would have sprung from his detested arms,

And with a tone of deepest grief, she cried,

"Oh, Arethuse!" I hastened at her call–

But Pluto when he saw that aid was nigh,

Struck furiously the green earth with his spear,

Which yawned,–and down the deep Tartarian gulph

His black car rolled–the green earth closed above.

CERES. [Starting up]

Is this thy doom, great Jove? & shall Hell's king

Quitting dark Tartarus, spread grief and tears

Among the dwellers of your bright abodes?

Then let him seize the earth itself, the stars,–

And all your wide dominion be his prey!–

Your sister calls upon your love, great King!

As you are God I do demand your help!–

Restore my child, or let all heaven sink,

And the fair world be chaos once again!

INO.

Look! in the East that loveliest bow is formed;

Heaven's single-arched bridge, it touches now

The Earth, and 'mid the pathless wastes of heaven

It paves a way for Jove's fair Messenger;–

Iris descends, and towards this field she comes.

ARETHUSA.

Sovereign of Harvests, 'tis the Messenger

That will bring joy to thee. Thine eyes light up

With sparkling hope, thy cheeks are pale with dread.

[Enter Iris.]

CERES.

Speak, heavenly Iris! let thy words be poured

Into my drooping soul, like dews of eve

On a too long parched field.–Where is my Proserpine?

IRIS.

Sister of Heaven, as by Joves throne I stood

The voice of thy deep prayer arose,–it filled

The heavenly courts with sorrow and dismay:

The Thunderer frowned, & heaven shook with dread

I bear his will to thee, 'tis fixed by fate,

Nor prayer nor murmur e'er can alter it.

If Proserpine while she has lived in hell

Has not polluted by Tartarian food

Her heavenly essence, then she may return,

And wander without fear on Enna's plain,

Or take her seat among the Gods above.

If she has touched the fruits of Erebus,

She never may return to upper air,

But doomed to dwell amidst the shades of death,

The wife of Pluto and the Queen of Hell.

CERES.

Joy treads upon the sluggish heels of care!

The child of heaven disdains Tartarian food.

Pluto, give up thy prey! restore my child!

IRIS.

Soon she will see again the sun of Heaven,

By gloomy shapes, inhabitants of Hell,

Attended, and again behold the field

Of Enna, the fair flowers & the streams,

Her late delight,–& more than all, her Mother.

INO.

Our much-loved, long-lost Mistress, do you come?

And shall once more your nymphs attend your steps?

Will you again irradiate this isle–

That drooped when you were lost?

& once again

Trinacria smile beneath your Mother's eye?

[CERES and her companions are ranged on one side in eager

expectation; from, the cave on the other, enter PROSERPINE,

attended by various dark & gloomy shapes bearing

torches; among which ASCALAPHUS. CERES & PROSERPINE

embrace;–her nymphs surround her.]

CERES.

Welcome, dear Proserpine! Welcome to light,

To this green earth and to your Mother's arms.

You are too beautiful for Pluto's Queen;

In the dark Stygian air your blooming cheeks

Have lost their roseate tint, and your bright form

Has faded in that night unfit for thee.

PROSERPINE.

Then I again behold thee, Mother dear:–

Again I tread the flowery plain of Enna,

And clasp thee, Arethuse, & you, my nymphs;

I have escaped from hateful Tartarus,

The abode of furies and all loathed shapes

That thronged around me, making hell more black.

Oh! I could worship thee, light giving Sun,

Who spreadest warmth and radiance o'er the world.

Look at the branches of those chesnut trees,

That wave to the soft breezes, while their stems

Are tinged with red by the sun's slanting rays.

And the soft clouds that float 'twixt earth and sky.

How sweet are all these sights! There all is night!

No God like that [pointing to the sun]

smiles on the Elysian plains,

The air is windless, and all shapes are still.

IRIS.

And must I interpose in this deep joy,

And sternly cloud your hopes? Oh! answer me,

Art thou still, Proserpine, a child of light?

Or hast thou dimmed thy attributes of Heaven

By such Tartarian food as must for ever

Condemn thee to be Queen of Hell & Night?

PROSERPINE.

No, Iris, no,–I still am pure as thee:

Offspring of light and air, I have no stain

Of Hell. I am for ever thine, oh, Mother!

CERES. [to the shades from Hell]

Begone, foul visitants to upper air!

Back to your dens! nor stain the sunny earth

By shadows thrown from forms so foul–Crouch in!

Proserpine, child of light, is not your Queen!

[to the nymphs]

Quick bring my car,–we will ascend to heaven,

Deserting Earth, till by decree of Jove,

Eternal laws shall bind the King of Hell

To leave in peace the offspring of the sky.

ASCALAPHUS.

Stay, Ceres! By the dread decree of Jove

Your child is doomed to be eternal Queen

Of Tartarus,–nor may she dare ascend

The sunbright regions of Olympian Jove,

Or tread the green Earth 'mid attendant nymphs.

Proserpine, call to mind your walk last eve,

When as you wandered in Elysian groves,

Through bowers for ever green, and mossy walks,

Where flowers never die, nor wind disturbs

The sacred calm, whose silence soothes the dead,

Nor interposing clouds, with dun wings, dim

Its mild and silver light, you plucked its fruit,

You ate of a pomegranate's seeds–

CERES.

Be silent,

Prophet of evil, hateful to the Gods!

Sweet Proserpine, my child, look upon me.

You shrink; your trembling form & pallid cheeks

Would make his words seem true which are most false.

Thou didst not taste the food of Erebus;–

Offspring of Gods art thou,–nor Hell, nor Jove

Shall tear thee from thy Mother's clasping arms.

PROSERPINE.

If fate decrees, can we resist? farewel!

Oh! Mother, dearer to your child than light,

Than all the forms of this sweet earth & sky,

Though dear are these, and dear are my poor nymphs,

Whom I must leave;–oh! can immortals weep?

And can a Goddess die as mortals do,

Or live & reign where it is death to be?

Ino, dear Arethuse, again you lose

Your hapless Proserpine, lost to herself

When she quits you for gloomy Tartarus.

CERES.

Is there no help, great Jove? If she depart

I will descend with her–the Earth shall lose

Its proud fertility, and Erebus

Shall bear my gifts throughout th' unchanging year.

Valued till now by thee, tyrant of Gods!

My harvests ripening by Tartarian fires

Shall feed the dead with Heaven's ambrosial food.

Wilt thou not then repent, brother unkind,

Viewing the barren earth with vain regret,

Thou didst not shew more mercy to my child?

INO.

We will all leave the light and go with thee,

In Hell thou shalt be girt by Heaven-born nymphs,

Elysium shall be Enna,–thou'lt not mourn

Thy natal plain, which will have lost its worth

Having lost thee, its nursling and its Queen.

ARETHUSA.

I will sink down with thee;–my lily crown

Shall bloom in Erebus, portentous loss

To Earth, which by degrees will fade & fall

In envy of our happier lot in Hell;–

And the bright sun and the fresh winds of heaven

Shall light its depths and fan its stagnant air.

[They cling round Proserpine; the Shades of Hell seperate and stand between them.]

ASCALAPHUS.

Depart! She is our Queen! Ye may not come!

Hark to Jove's thunder! shrink away in fear

From unknown forms, whose tyranny ye'll feel

In groans and tears if ye insult their power.

IRIS.

Behold Jove's balance hung in upper sky;

There are ye weighed,–to that ye must submit.

CERES.

Oh! Jove, have mercy on a Mother's prayer!

Shall it be nought to be akin to thee?

And shall thy sister, Queen of fertile Earth,

Derided be by these foul shapes of Hell?

Look at the scales, they're poized with equal weights!

What can this mean? Leave me not, Proserpine

Cling to thy Mother's side! He shall not dare

Divide the sucker from the parent stem.

[embraces her]

ASCALAPHUS.

He is almighty! who shall set the bounds

To his high will? let him decide our plea!

Fate is with us, & Proserpine is ours!

[He endeavours to part Ceres & Proserpine, the nymphs prevent him.]

CERES.

Peace, ominous bird of Hell & Night! Depart!

Nor with thy skriech disturb a Mother's grief,

Avaunt! It is to Jove we pray, not thee.

IRIS.

Thy fate, sweet Proserpine, is sealed by Jove,

When Enna is starred by flowers, and the sun

Shoots his hot rays strait on the gladsome land,

When Summer reigns, then thou shalt live on Earth,

And tread these plains, or sporting with your nymphs,

Or at your Mother's side, in peaceful joy.

But when hard frost congeals the bare, black ground,

The trees have lost their leaves, & painted birds

Wailing for food sail through the piercing air;

Then you descend to deepest night and reign

Great Queen of Tartarus, 'mid shadows dire,

Offspring of Hell,–or in the silent groves

Of, fair Elysium through which Lethe runs,

The sleepy river; where the windless air

Is never struck by flight or song of bird,–

But all is calm and clear, bestowing rest,

After the toil of life, to wretched men,

Whom thus the Gods reward for sufferings

Gods cannot know; a throng of empty shades!

The endless circle of the year will bring

Joy in its turn, and seperation sad;

Six months to light and Earth,–six months to Hell.

PROSERPINE.

Dear Mother, let me kiss that tear which steals

Down your pale cheek altered by care and grief.

This is not misery; 'tis but a slight change

Prom our late happy lot. Six months with thee,

Each moment freighted with an age of love:

And the six short months in saddest Tartarus

Shall pass in dreams of swift returning joy.

Six months together we shall dwell on earth,

Six months in dreams we shall companions be,

Jove's doom is void; we are forever joined.

CERES

Oh, fairest child! sweet summer visitor!

Thy looks cheer me, so shall they cheer this land

Which I will fly, thou gone. Nor seed of grass,

Or corn shall grow, thou absent from the earth;

But all shall lie beneath in hateful night

Until at thy return, the fresh green springs,

The fields are covered o'er with summer plants.

And when thou goest the heavy grain will droop

And die under my frown, scattering the seeds,

That will not reappear till your return.

Farewel, sweet child, Queen of the nether world,

There shine as chaste Diana's silver car

Islanded in the deep circumfluous night.

Giver of fruits! for such thou shalt be styled,

Sweet Prophetess of Summer, coming forth

From the slant shadow of the wintry earth,

In thy car drawn by snowy-breasted swallows!

Another kiss, & then again farewel!

Winter in losing thee has lost its all,

And will be doubly bare, & hoar, & drear,

Its bleak winds whistling o'er the cold pinched ground

Which neither flower or grass will decorate.

And as my tears fall first, so shall the trees

Shed their changed leaves upon your six months tomb:

The clouded air will hide from Phoebus' eye

The dreadful change your absence operates.

Thus has black Pluto changed the reign of Jove,

He seizes half the Earth when he takes thee.

THE END