Anaxus had no sooner ta'en his leave
Of his glad Sister, making her believe
That he would shortly visit her, when she
Led forth her Flock to Field more joyfully
Than she was wont to do; those rosie stains
That nature wont to lend her from her veins,
Began t'appear upon her cheeks, and raise
Her sickly beauty to contend for praise.
She trickt her self in all her best attire,
As if she meant this day t'invite desire
To fall in love with her: her looser hair
Hung on her shoulders, sporting with the air:
Her brow a Coronet of Rose-buds crown'd
With loving Woodbines sweet embraces bound.
Two Globe-like Pearls were pendent to her ears,
And on her Breast a costly Gem she wears,
An Adamant in fashion like a heart,
Whereon Love sate a plucking out a Dart,
With this same Motto graven round about
On a gold Border; Sooner in than out .
This Gem Clearchus gave her, when unknown,
At Tilt his Valour won her for his own.
Instead of Bracelets on her Wrists, she wore
A pair of golden Shackles, chain'd before
Unto a silver Ring enamel'd Blue,
Whereon in golden Letters to the view
This Motto was presented, Bound yet free .
And in a true Loves Knot a T. and C ,
Buckled it fast together; her silk Gown
Of grassie green, in equal pleits hung down
Unto the Earth: and as she went the Flowers
Which she had broider'd on it at spare hours,
Were wrought so to the life, they seem'd to grow
In a green Field, and as the Wind did blow,
Sometimes a Lilly, then a Rose takes place,
And blushing seems to hide it in the Grass:
And here and there gold Oaes 'mong Pearls she strew,
That seem'd like shining Gloworms in the dew.
Her sleeves were Tinsel wrought with leaves of green,
In equal distance spangeled between,
And shadowed over with a thin Lawn cloud,
Through which her workmanship more graceful show'd.
A silken Scrip and Shepherds Crook she had,
The badg of her profession; and thus clad,
Thealma leads her milky Drove to Field,
Proud of so brave a guide: had you beheld
With what a majesty she trod the ground,
How sweet she smil'd, and angerly she frown'd:
You would have thought, it had Minerva been,
Come from high Fove to dwell on earth agen.
The reason why she made her self thus fine
Was a sweet Dream she had; some poor Divine
Had whisper'd to her soul Clearchus liv'd,
And that he was a King for whom she griev'd:
She thought she saw old Hymen in Loves bands,
Tie with devotion both their hearts and hands.
She was a dreaming farther, when her Maid
Told her the Sun was up: she well appaid
With what her greedy thoughts had tasted on,
Quickly gat up; and hurried with her Dream,
Thus tricks her self, having a mind to seem
What she would be, but was not; strong conceit
So wrought upon her; those that are born great
Have higher thoughts than the low-minded Clown,
He seldom dreams himself into a Crown.
Caretta , modest girl, she thought it strange,
And wonder'd greatly at so sudden change;
But durst not be so bold to ask the cause,
Obedience had prescrib'd her knowledg Laws:
And she would not transgress them; yet it made
Her call to mind what garments once she had,
And when her Father liv'd, how brave she went,
But humble-minded wench she was content.
She knew the vanity of Pomp and Pride,
Which if not pluckt off, must be laid aside
One day; and to speak truth, she had a mind
So deckt with rich endowments, that it shin'd
In all her actions; how so e're she goes,
Few Maids have such an inside to their cloaths.
Yet her Dames Love had trickt her up so brave,
As she thought fit to make her Maid, and gave
Her such habiliments to set her forth,
As rather grac'd than stain'd her Mistriss worth.
They made her ne're the prouder, she was still
As ready and obedient to her will.
Thus to the field Thealma and her Maid
Chearfully went; and, in a friendly shade
They sate them down to work; the wench had brought,
As her Dame bid, her Lute; and as she wrought,
Thealma plaid and sang this chearful Air,
As if she then would bid adieu to care.

I

Fly bence Despair, and Hearts-benumming fears,
 Presume no more to fright
 Me from my quiet rest:
My budding hopes have wip'd away my tears,
 And fill'd me with delight,
 To cure my wounded breast.

II.

Mount up sad thoughts, that whilom bumbly straid
 Upon the lowly plain,
 And fed on nought but grief.
My angry fate with me is well appaid,
 And smiles on me again,
 To give my heart relief.

III.

Rejoyce, poor heart, forget those wounding woes
 That rob'd thee of thy peace.
 And drown'd thee in despair,
Still thy strong passions with a sweet repose
 To give my soul some ease,
 And rid me of my care.
My thoughts presage by Fortunes frown,
I shall climb up unto a Crown.

She had not ended her delicious lay,
When Cleon and old Rhotus , who that day
Were journeying to Court, by chance drew near,
As she was singing, and t' enrich their ear
They made a stand behind the hedg to hear
Her sweet soul-melting accents, that so won
Their best attention, that when she had done,
The Voice had ravish'd so the good old men,
They wisht in vain she would begin agen;
And now they long to see what Goddess 'twas,
That own'd so sweet a voice, and with such grace
Chid her sad Woes away: The cause that drew
Rhotus to Court was this; after a view
Made by the victor King of all his Peers
And well deserving men that force or fears
Had banish'd from their own, and Peace begun
To smile upon Arcadia ; to shun
The future cavils that his Subjects might
Make to recover their usurped right:
He made enquiry what each man possest
During Lysander's Reign, to re-invest
Them in heir honor'd places, and such Lands
As Tyranny had wrung out of his hands.
And minding now to gratifie his Friends,
Like a good Prince he for old Rhotus sends;
As he to whom he ow'd his Life, and all
The Honor he had rose to; at his call
Old Rhotus quickly comes, leaving his trade
To an old Servant whom long custom had
Wedded to that vocation; so that he
Aim'd at no higher honor than to be
A Master-fisher: Cleon , who of late
As you have heard, came from the Lemnian State
In search of one whose name he yet kept close,
With Rhotus his kind Host to Court he goes,
And with him his Son Dorus: in the way,
As you have heard, Thealma made them stay,
And not contented to content their ear
With her sweet Musick, tow'rd her they drew near;
And wond'ring at her bravery and her beauty,
They thought to greet her with a common duty,
Would ill become them: humbly on their knee
They tender'd their respect, and Prince-like, she
Thank'd them with nodds: her high thoughts still aspire,
And their low lootings lift them a step higher.
Old Cleon ey'd her with such curious heed,
He thought she might be what she prov'd indeed,
Thealma: her rich Gems confirm'd the same,
For some he knew, yet durst not ask her name.
Caretta viewing Rhotus (loving wench)
As if instinct had taught her confidence,
Runs from her Mistris, contradicts all fears,
And asks him Blessing, speaking in her tears.
Lives then Carettas said he, Yes, quoth she,
I am Caretta , if you'l Father me.
Then Heaven hath heard my Prayers, or thine rather,
It is thy goodness makes me still a Father,
A thousand times he kiss'd the Girl, whilst she
Receives them as his Blessings on her knee.
At length he took her up, and to her Dame
With thanks return'd her: saying, If a blame
Be due unto your Hand-maids fond neglect
To do you service, let your Frown reflect
On her poor Father. She, as Children use,
Is over-joy'd to find the thing they lose.
There needs no such apology, kind Sir,
Answer'd Thealma , duty bindeth her
More strictly to th'obedience of a Father,
Than of a Mistris; I commend her rather
For tend'ring what she ow'd so willingly;
Believ't I love her for it, she and I
Have drank sufficiently of sorrows cup,
And were content sometimes to Dine and Sup
With the sad story of our woes; poor cates
To feed on; yet we bought them at dear rates:
Many a tear they cost us: you are blest
In finding of a Daughter, and the best
(Though you may think I flatter) that e're liv'd
To glad a Father; as with her I griev'd
For his supposed loss, so being found
I cannot but rejoyce with her; the wound
Which you have cur'd in her, gives ease to mine,
And I find comfort in her Medicine.
I had a Father, but I lost him too,
And wilfully; my Girl, so didst not thou;
Nor can I hope to find him, but in wrath
I lost his love in keeping of my Faith.
She would have spoken more, but sighs and tears
Brake from their prison to revive her fears.
Cleon , altho he knew her by her speech,
And by some jewels which she wore, too rich
For any Shepherdess to wear, forbare
To interrupt her; he so lov'd to hear
Her speak, whom he so oft had heard was drown'd,
And still, good man, he kneel'd upon the ground,
And wept for joy. Why do you kneel, said she,
Am I a Saint, what do you see in me
To merit such respects? pray rise, 'tis I
That owe a reverence to such gravity,
That kneeling better would become, I know
No worth in me to worl you down so low.
Yes, gracious Madam, what I pay is due
To none, for ought I know, so much as you.
Is not your name Thealma? hath your eye
Ne're seen this face at Lemnos , I can spy
Ev'n through those clouds of grief, the stamp of him
That once I call'd my Sovereign; age and time
Hath brought him to his Grave, that bed of dust,
Where when our night is come, sleep we all must.
Yet in despight of Death his honor'd name
Lives, and will ever in the vote of Fame.
Death works but on corruption, things Divine,
Cleans'd from the dross about them, brighter shine:
So doth his Virtues. What was earth is gone,
His heavenly part is left to crown his Son,
If I could find him. You may well conceive
At his sad tale what cause she had to grieve;
Reply she could not, but in sighs and tears,
Yet to his killing language lent her ears:
And had not grief enforc'd him make a pause
She had been silent still; she had most cause
To wail her Fathers loss: Oh unkind Fate,
Reply'd Thealma ; it is now too late
To wish I'd not offended; cruel love
To force me to offend, and not to prove
So kind to let him live to punish her,
Whose fault, I fear me, was his murtherer.
O my Clearchus , 'twas through thee I fell
From a Childs duty; yet I do not well
To blame thee for it, sweetly may'st thou sleep,
Thou and thy faults lie buried in the deep,
And I'll not rake them up: ye partial powers,
To number out to me so many hours,
And punish him so soon; why do I live?
Can there be hope that Spirits can forgive?
Yes gracious Madam, his departing Soul
Seal'd up your Pardon with a Prayer t'enroul
Amongst his honor'd Acts, left you his Blessing,
And call'd it love, which you do stile transgressing,
Left you a Dowry worthy a lov'd Child,
With whom he willingly was reconcil'd.
Take comfort then; Kings are but men, and they
As well as poor men must return to Clay.
With that she op't the flood-gates of her eyes,
And offer'd up a wealthy sacrifice
Of thankful tears, to expiate her crimes,
And drown their memory, lest after times
Might blab them to the world. Rhotus gave ear
To all that past, and lent her many a tear:
The Alms that sweet compassion bestows
On a poor heart that wants to cure its woes.
Caretta melted too, though she had found
What her poor Mistris griev'd at, all drank round
Of the same briny cup. Rhotus at last
'Gan thus to comfort her: Madam, tho hast
To obey my Sovereigns command would fit
The Duty of a Subject better; yet
I will incur the hazard of his frown
To do you service; Glory and Renown
The mark the noble Spirits still aim at
To crown their Virtues, did so animate.
Alexis our new Sovereign, once my guest
(And glad he was to be so) that his Breast
Full of high thoughts, could relish no content
In a poor Cottage. One day as he went
With me unto our Annual Games, where he
Puts in for one to try the mastery,
And from them all came off a Victor, so
That all admir'd him; on him they bestow
The Wreath of Conquest; at that time this State
Was govern'd by a Tyrant, one that Fate
Thrust in to scourge the peoples wickedness,
That had abus'd the blessing of their peace,
As he abus'd his honor, which he gain'd
By cruel usurpation; for he reign'd
More like a Beast than Man; Fortune at length
Grew weary of him too; weak'ning his strength
By wantoning his people, without Law
Or Exercise to keep their minds in awe.
Which the exil'd Nobility perceiving,
Took heart again, some new strong hope conceiving
Through th' enemies neglect, to regain that
Which formerly they lost; so it pleas'd Fate
To change the scene: most of the noble Youth
The former War consum'd, and to speak truth,
Unless some few old men, there was left none
Worthy to be a Leader; all was gone:
Wherefore when they had seen what he could do,
And by that guess'd, what he durst undergo
(If they were put to't) they Alexis chose
To lead their War-like Troops against their Foes.
His Valour spake him noble, and's behaviour
Was such as won upon the Peoples Favour;
His speech so powerful, that the hearer thought
All his Intreats Commands: so much it wrought
Upon their awful minds; this new-come Stranger
They chose to be their Shield 'twixt them and danger;
And he deceived not th' expectation
They fixt upon him: Hylas was o'rethrown,
And he return'd in triumph: joy was now
Arcadias Theme; and all Oblations vow
To their Protector Mars : to quite him then,
They choose him King, the wonderment of men.
'Twas much, yet what they gave was not their own,
They ow'd him for it; what they gave he won,
And won it bravely. When this Youth I found
Hanging upon the craggy Rock half drown'd,
I little dreamt that he should mount so high
As to a Crown; yet such a Majesty
Shin'd on his look sometimes, as shew'd a mind
Too great to be, to a low state confin'd:
Tho while he liv'd with me, such sullen clouds
Of grief hung on his brow, and such sad floods
Rather than briny tears, stream'd from his eyes,
As made him seem a man of miseries.
And often as he was alone, I heard him
Sigh out Thealma ; I as often chear'd him.
May not this be the man you grieve for so,
Your name's Thealma , and for ought I know,
He may not be Alexis ; perhaps fear
Borrow'd that nick-name, to conceal him here.
Take comfort, Madam, on my life 'tis he,
If my conjecture fail me not, then be
Not so dejected till the truth be tri'd:
And that shall be my charge, Cleon reply'd;
Thanks noble Rhotus , this discovery
Binds me to thee for ever: thou and I
Will to the Court; could I Anaxus find
My work were ended; if Fate prove so kind,
I hope a comical event shall crown
These tragical beginnings; do not drown
Your hopes (sweet Madam) that I so would fain
Live to your comfort, when we meet again,
Which will be speedily; the news we bring
I trust shall be Clearchus is a King.
Most noble Cleon , thanks; may it prove so
Answer'd Thealma ; yet before you go,
Take this same Jewel, this Clearchus gave me
When first I did consent that he should have me:
And if he still do love, as is a doubt,
For he ne'r hath a power to work Love out.
By this you shall discover who he is,
If Fortune have assign'd me such a bliss
As once more to be his, she makes amends
For all my sorrow; but if she intends
Still to afflict me, I can suffer still,
And tire her cruelty, though't be to kill:
I have a patience that she cannot wrong
With all her flatteries; a heart too strong
To shake at such a weak artillery,
As is her frowns: no Cleon , I dare die,
And could I meet Death nobly I would so,
Rather than be her scorn, and take up woe
At interest to enrich her power, that grows
Greater by grieving at our overthrows.
No Cleon , I can be as well content
With my poor Cot, this woolly regiment,
As with a Palace; or to govern men;
And I can Queen it when time serves agen.
Go, and my hopes go with you; if stern Fate
Bid you return with news to mend my state,
I'll welcome it with thanks; if not, I know
The worst on't, Cleon , I am now as low
As she can throw me. Thus resolv'd, they leave her,
And to the Court the two Lords wend together,
Leaving young Dorus, Cleons Son behind
To wait upon Thealma ; Love was kind
In that to fair Caretta , that till now
Ne're felt what passion meant, yet knew not how
To vent it but with blushes; modest shame
Forbad it yet to grow into a flame.
Love works by time, and time will make her bolder,
Talk warms desire, when absence makes it colder.
Home now Thealma wends 'twixt hope and fear,
Sometimes she smiles, anon she drops a tear
That stole along her cheeks, and falling down
Into a pearl, it freezeth with her frown.
The Sun was set before she reacht the Fold,
And sparkling Vesper nights approach has told.
She left the Lovers to enfold her Sheep,
And in she went, resolv'd to sup with sleep:
If thought would give her leave, unto her rest
We leave her for a while, Sylvanus guest
You know we lately left under his cure,
And now it is high time my Muse to lewre
From her too tedious weary flight, and tell
What to Anaxus that brave Youth befel.
Let's pause a while, she'l make the better flight,
The following lines shall feed your appetite.