SCENE III.
GONDIBERT and ASTRAGON.
A STRAGON , at some Distance .
What! Birtha yonder parting from the Duke!
It must be so. I have observ'd of late
Uncommon Alteration in my Daughter.
Whene're I mention Gondibert , she blushes,
But soon the Purple fades away to Paleness:
A dying Languor swims upon her Eyes,
And her whole Nature's chang'd. It must be Love.
The Duke 's made up of Honour, Truth, and Goodness,
And might I glory in Him for a Son! —
But that's too high Ambition. No; the Princess,
So Fame reports, is by the King design'd
To bless his Bed: and, sure, He's worthy of Her.
I love the Duke too well to bar his Way
To Empire, by advancing Birtha 's Fortune? —
But He's at Hand. — Good Heav'n preserve your Grace,
May Fortune fan you with her softest Wing,
May Peace and sweet Contentment wait around you,
May sure Success for ever bless your Hopes,
And pour the Balm of Gladness on your Heart.
G ONDIBERT .
Good Astragon , your Wishes half are heard,
And seal'd in Heav'n: the Ways of Peace are yours,
Divine Contentment spreads her rosy Wing
And constant hovers o'er your Walks. Yet still,
Still may you add one Kindness to the Rest,
And make me happier than the Sons of Men.
A STRAGON .
And is it in my Pow'r? I thank you, Gods,
Here on my aged, bended Knees I thank you.
But quickly speak, my Gondibert ; unload
Your secret Breast, and, by the Pow'r of Friendship,
My Life, my all are yours.
G ONDIBERT .
O wond'rous Virtue!
O might I be ally'd to so much Goodness,
Might I but call you, Father; then, O, then,
Heav'n, here, cou'd add no Happiness to this.
A STRAGON .
What means my Gondibert?
G ONDIBERT .
Oh beauteous Birtha!
Amazing Brightness! were but Birtha mine —
A STRAGON .
What? She? — the Daughter of a poor Physitian? —
Impossible — what Birtha touch my Heroe? —
Poor, little Innocence! — It cannot be. —
I fear, my Lord, you laugh at your old Man.
G ONDIBERT .
No, Astragan: I love her, — how I love Her!
Oh, She's the Soul of Goodness, all Perfection,
And everlasting Joy is in her Arms.
A STRAGON .
This Rapture is the Blaze of youthful Blood,
By Beauty kindled, by Enjoyment cool'd —
G ONDIBERT .
Forbid it, Reason; and forbid it Heav'n!
My Love is Virtue, Purity and Truth,
Cool as a Sage's morning Contemplation,
Yet glowing as the Vestals Holy fires.
Pour but the Marriage-Oil upon the Flame
And in a sacred Blaze it mounts to Heav'n;
If not, which all the Gods avert! It then
Burns up my Life, and I am lost for ever.
A STRAGON .
Good Heav'n forbid, a Life so fair as yours,
The Joy of Thousands, perish in its Bloom!
No: may it flourish, like the goodly Cedar,
Till Time grow old, and shed abroad its Odours
To sweeten Earth, and entertain the Skies,
With the rich Incence of a virtuous Name.
Yet, call Reflection to your Aid, my Lord;
For, while you honour Birtha with your Love,
You sink beneath your Dignity and Fame:
You stain the Current of your Blood, which teems,
Rich in a Race of Heroes, through your Veins.
G ONDIBERT .
I tell Thee, no: by mingling with her Virtues,
A Stream of Crystal! I refine my Nature.
For Beauty gilds a Crown with double Lustre,
And Virtue lifts us nearer to the Stars.
But shall I live? O say, is Birtha mine?
For Life and She are so wound up in One,
That every Pulse beats Musick at her Name;
But if That Dear One, whom my Soul longs after,
If She's deny'd, the Springs of Life stand still.
A STRAGON .
Live, and be happy!
G ONDIBERT .
Blessings on the Sound!
A STRAGON .
Let Happiness and Birtha crown your Wishes!
G ONDIBERT .
Not West-winds breathing o'er a Bank of Violets,
Not the Love-labour'd Song of Nightingales,
Not Sighs of Virgins in the Summer-Groves,
At close of Eve, when, soft, their Lovers steal
With Raptures to their Arms, are half so sweet
As those dear Words, " Let Birtha crown your Wishes! "
O Astragon! O more than Father to me!
Thus give me leave in flowing Gratitude
To pour th' Abundance of my Heart before you,
My ravish'd Heart that leaps and bounds with Joy!
A STRAGON .
Joy streams into my Eyes to call you Son.
New Tides of Vigour swell my wither'd Veins
In sparkling Sallies. — I am young again —
Again I live in you, my Son, my Son!
Rise but To-morrow, and the Holy Priest
Shall make Her yours for ever!
G ONDIBERT .
Rise! O Rise!
Spring into Light, Thou 'Morrow's chearful Dawn,
Ye Minutes, speed away! Thou lusty Sun,
Drest, like a joyful Bridegroom, mount the East,
In all thy richest Rays and gayest Gold:
Nor shalt Thou see, in thy wide Circuit, One
So blest as I shall be, or fair as Birtha .
GONDIBERT and ASTRAGON.
A STRAGON , at some Distance .
What! Birtha yonder parting from the Duke!
It must be so. I have observ'd of late
Uncommon Alteration in my Daughter.
Whene're I mention Gondibert , she blushes,
But soon the Purple fades away to Paleness:
A dying Languor swims upon her Eyes,
And her whole Nature's chang'd. It must be Love.
The Duke 's made up of Honour, Truth, and Goodness,
And might I glory in Him for a Son! —
But that's too high Ambition. No; the Princess,
So Fame reports, is by the King design'd
To bless his Bed: and, sure, He's worthy of Her.
I love the Duke too well to bar his Way
To Empire, by advancing Birtha 's Fortune? —
But He's at Hand. — Good Heav'n preserve your Grace,
May Fortune fan you with her softest Wing,
May Peace and sweet Contentment wait around you,
May sure Success for ever bless your Hopes,
And pour the Balm of Gladness on your Heart.
G ONDIBERT .
Good Astragon , your Wishes half are heard,
And seal'd in Heav'n: the Ways of Peace are yours,
Divine Contentment spreads her rosy Wing
And constant hovers o'er your Walks. Yet still,
Still may you add one Kindness to the Rest,
And make me happier than the Sons of Men.
A STRAGON .
And is it in my Pow'r? I thank you, Gods,
Here on my aged, bended Knees I thank you.
But quickly speak, my Gondibert ; unload
Your secret Breast, and, by the Pow'r of Friendship,
My Life, my all are yours.
G ONDIBERT .
O wond'rous Virtue!
O might I be ally'd to so much Goodness,
Might I but call you, Father; then, O, then,
Heav'n, here, cou'd add no Happiness to this.
A STRAGON .
What means my Gondibert?
G ONDIBERT .
Oh beauteous Birtha!
Amazing Brightness! were but Birtha mine —
A STRAGON .
What? She? — the Daughter of a poor Physitian? —
Impossible — what Birtha touch my Heroe? —
Poor, little Innocence! — It cannot be. —
I fear, my Lord, you laugh at your old Man.
G ONDIBERT .
No, Astragan: I love her, — how I love Her!
Oh, She's the Soul of Goodness, all Perfection,
And everlasting Joy is in her Arms.
A STRAGON .
This Rapture is the Blaze of youthful Blood,
By Beauty kindled, by Enjoyment cool'd —
G ONDIBERT .
Forbid it, Reason; and forbid it Heav'n!
My Love is Virtue, Purity and Truth,
Cool as a Sage's morning Contemplation,
Yet glowing as the Vestals Holy fires.
Pour but the Marriage-Oil upon the Flame
And in a sacred Blaze it mounts to Heav'n;
If not, which all the Gods avert! It then
Burns up my Life, and I am lost for ever.
A STRAGON .
Good Heav'n forbid, a Life so fair as yours,
The Joy of Thousands, perish in its Bloom!
No: may it flourish, like the goodly Cedar,
Till Time grow old, and shed abroad its Odours
To sweeten Earth, and entertain the Skies,
With the rich Incence of a virtuous Name.
Yet, call Reflection to your Aid, my Lord;
For, while you honour Birtha with your Love,
You sink beneath your Dignity and Fame:
You stain the Current of your Blood, which teems,
Rich in a Race of Heroes, through your Veins.
G ONDIBERT .
I tell Thee, no: by mingling with her Virtues,
A Stream of Crystal! I refine my Nature.
For Beauty gilds a Crown with double Lustre,
And Virtue lifts us nearer to the Stars.
But shall I live? O say, is Birtha mine?
For Life and She are so wound up in One,
That every Pulse beats Musick at her Name;
But if That Dear One, whom my Soul longs after,
If She's deny'd, the Springs of Life stand still.
A STRAGON .
Live, and be happy!
G ONDIBERT .
Blessings on the Sound!
A STRAGON .
Let Happiness and Birtha crown your Wishes!
G ONDIBERT .
Not West-winds breathing o'er a Bank of Violets,
Not the Love-labour'd Song of Nightingales,
Not Sighs of Virgins in the Summer-Groves,
At close of Eve, when, soft, their Lovers steal
With Raptures to their Arms, are half so sweet
As those dear Words, " Let Birtha crown your Wishes! "
O Astragon! O more than Father to me!
Thus give me leave in flowing Gratitude
To pour th' Abundance of my Heart before you,
My ravish'd Heart that leaps and bounds with Joy!
A STRAGON .
Joy streams into my Eyes to call you Son.
New Tides of Vigour swell my wither'd Veins
In sparkling Sallies. — I am young again —
Again I live in you, my Son, my Son!
Rise but To-morrow, and the Holy Priest
Shall make Her yours for ever!
G ONDIBERT .
Rise! O Rise!
Spring into Light, Thou 'Morrow's chearful Dawn,
Ye Minutes, speed away! Thou lusty Sun,
Drest, like a joyful Bridegroom, mount the East,
In all thy richest Rays and gayest Gold:
Nor shalt Thou see, in thy wide Circuit, One
So blest as I shall be, or fair as Birtha .