TRANSLATION FROM MOSCHUS. PAN loved his neighbour Echo-but that child The bright nymph Lyda,—and so three went weeping. As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr; The Satyr, Lyda-and thus love consumed them.— And thus to each-which was a woful matter To bear what they inflicted, justice doomed them; For inasmuch as each might hate the lover, Each loving, so was hated.-Ye that love not Be warned-in thought turn this example over, That when ye love, the like return ye prove not. SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO" OF CALDERON. CYPRIAN as a Student; CLARIN and MOSCON as poor Scholars, with books. CYPRIAN. In the sweet solitude of this calm place, This intricate wild wilderness of trees And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants, To me are ever best society. And whilst with glorious festival and song To its new shrine, I would consume what still Go and enjoy the festival; it will You, my friends, Be worth the labour, and return for me When the sun seeks its grave among the billows, I shall expect you. MOSCON. I cannot bring my mind, Great as my haste to see the festival Certainly is, to leave you, Sir, without Of such festivity, you can bring your mind With three or four old books, and turn your back CLARIN. My master's in the right; There is not any thing more tiresome Than a procession day, with troops of men, And dances, and all that. MOSCON. From first to last, Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer; You praise not what you feel but what he does;— Toadeater! CLARIN. You lie under a mistake For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man's face. I now Say what I think. CYPRIAN. Enough, you foolish fellows. Puffed up with your own doting ignorance, You always take the two sides of one question. When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide This glorious fabric of the universe. MOSCON. How happens it, although you can maintain The folly of enjoying festivals, That yet you go there? CLARIN. Nay, the consequence Is clear-who ever did what he advises Livia, I come; good sport, Livia, Soho! [Exit. CYPRIAN. Now, since I am alone, let me examine The question which has long disturbed my mind With doubt; since first I read in Plinius The words of mystic import and deep sense In which he defines God. My intellect Can find no God with whom these marks and signs Which I must fathom. Enter the DEVIL, as a fine Gentleman. Search even as thou wilt, DÆMON. But thou shalt never find what I can hide. CYPRIAN. [Reads. What noise is that among the boughs? Who moves? What art thou?— DÆMON. 'Tis a foreign gentleman. Even from this morning I have lost my way In this wild place, and my poor horse at last Quite overcome, has stretched himself upon The enamelled tapestry of this mossy mountain, And feeds and rests at the same time. I was Upon my way to Antioch upon business Of some importance, but wrapt up in cares (Who is exempt from this inheritance) I parted from my company, and lost and lost my servants and my My way, CYPRIAN. 'Tis singular, that even within the sight comrades. Of the high towers of Antioch, you could lose DÆMON. And such is ignorance! Even in the sight O fknowledge it can draw no profit from it. Have no acquaintances in Antioch, The few surviving hours of the day, Are a great student; for my part, I feel Much sympathy with such pursuits. |