TO THE READER..

ICall'd the buskin'd' mufe Melpomene,

And told her what sad story I would write : She wept at hearing such a tragedy,

Though wont in mournful ditties to delight.

If thou diflike thefe forrowful lines, then know My Mufe with tears, not with conceits, did flow:

And as the my unabler quill did guide,
Her briny tears did on the paper fall;
If then unequal numbers be efpied,
Oh, Reader! do not that my error call;

But think her tears defac'd it, and blame then
My Mufes' grief, and not my miffing pen,

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

CON

CONSTANTIA AND PHILETUS...

I

SING two conftant lovers' various fate,.

The hopes and fears that equally attend Their loves; their rivals' envy, parents' hate: I fing their woeful life and tragic end.

Aid me, ye gods, this story to rehearse,

This mournful tale, and favour every verfe!:

In Florence, for her stately buildings fam'd,
And lofty roofs that emulate the sky,
There dwelt a lovely maid, Conftantia nam'd,,
Fam'd for the beauty of all Italy.

Her, lavish Nature did at firft adorn,

With Pallas' foul in Cytherea's form:

And, framing her attractive eyes fo bright,
Spent all her wit in study, that they might
Keep earth from chaos and eternal night;
But envious death destroy'd their glorious light.
Expect not beauty then, since she did part;,
For in her Nature wafted all her art.

Her hair was brighter than the beams which are
A crown to Phoebus; and her breath fo fweet,
It did tranfcend Arabian odours-far,

Or fmelling flowers, wherewith the spring doth greet
Approaching fummer; teeth, like falling fnow
For white, were placed in a double row.

Her

Her wit, excelling praise, even all admire ;
Her fpeech was so attractive it might be
A cause to raise the mighty Pallas' ire,
And stir up envy from that deity.

The maiden lilies at her fight

Wax'd pale with envy, and from thence grew white.

She was in birth and parentage as high
As in her fortune great or beauty rare ;
And to her virtuous mind's nobility
The gifts of Fate and Nature doubled were ;
That in her spotlefs foul and lovely face
You might have seen each deity and grace.
The fcornful boy Adonis, viewing her,
Would Venus ftill despise, yet her defire ;
Each who but faw, was a competitor
And rival, fcorch'd alike with Cupid's fire.

The glorious beams of her fair eyes did move,
And light beholders on their way to love.
Among her many fuitors, a young knight,
'Bove others wounded with the majesty
Of her fair prefence, preffeth most in sight;
Yet feldom his defire can fatisfy

With that bleft object, or her rareness see
For beauty's guard is watchful jealousy.

Oft times, that he might see his dearest fair,
Upon his stately jennet he in th' way
Rides by her house; who neighs, as if he were
Proud to be view'd by bright Conftantia.

But his poor master, though to see her move
His joy, dares fhew no look betraying love.

Soon

Soon as the morning left her rofy bed,

And all heaven's fmaller lights were driven away,
She, by her friends and near acquaintance led,
Like other maids, would walk at break of day:
Aurora blush'd to see a sight unknown,

To behold cheeks more beauteous than her own.

Th' obfequious lover follows ftill her train,
And where they go, that way his journey feigns:
Should they turn back, he would turn back again;
For with his love, his bufinefs does remain.

Nor is it strange he should be loth to part
From her, whofe eyes had stole away his heart.

Philetus he was call'd, fprung from a race
Of noble ancestors; but greedy Time
And envious Fate had labour'd to deface
The glory which in his great stock did shine :
Small his eftate, unfitting her degree;

But blinded Love could no fuch difference fee.

Yet he by chance had hit his heart aright,
And dipt his arrow in Conftantia's eyes,
Blowing a fire that would deftroy him quite,
Unless fuch flames within her heart fhould rife.
But yet he fears, because he blinded is,

Though he have fhot him right, her heart he '11 mifs.

Unto Love's altar therefore he repairs,

And offers up a pleafing facrifice;
Intreating Cupid, with inducing prayers,

To look upon and eafe his miferies:

Where having wept, recovering breath again,
Thus to immortal Love he did complain;

VOL. I.

D

"Oh,

"Oh mighty Cupid! whose unbounded sway,
"Hath often rul'd th' Olympian thunderer;
"Whom all cœleftial deities obey;

"Whom men and gods both reverence and fear!
"Oh force Conftantia's heart to yield to love!
"Of all thy works the master-piece 'twill prove.
"And let me not affection vainly spend,
"But kindle flames in her like those in me ;
"Yet if that gift my fortune doth transcend,
"Grant that her charming beauty I may see !

"For ever view thofe eyes, whofe charming light, "More than theworld befides, does please my fight.

"Those who contemn thy facred deity,

"Laugh at thy power, make them thine anger know:
“I faultless am; what honour can it be,
"Only to wound your flave, and spare your foe?"
Here tears and fighs speak his imperfect moan,
In language far more moving than his own.

Home he retir'd, his foul he brought not home
Juft like a fhip, while every mounting wave
Tofs'd by enraged Boreas up and down,
Threatens the mariner with a gaping grave;
Such did his cafe, fuch did his ftate appear,
Alike diftracted between hope and fear.

Thinking her love he never shall obtain,

One morn he haunts the woods, and doth complain Of his unhappy fate, but all in vain;

And thus fond Echo anfwers him again :

It mov'd Aurora, and the wept to hear,
Dewing the verdant grafs with many a tear.