In silence still this maiden meek Her bitter taunts would bear, While oft adown her lovely cheek Would steal the falling tear. In vain in humble sort she strove As well the meekness of the dove Her lord, of humour light and gay, And oft before his lady's face, He would the maiden's modest grace And comeliness commend. 40 All which incens'd his lady so, She burnt with wrath extreame; At length the fire that long did glow, Burst forth into a flame. For on a day it so befell, When he was gone from home, The lady all with rage did swell, And to the damsell come. 45 35 330 25 And charging her with great offence, She bade her servants drag her thence, That lay beneath the common-shore: There never light of chearful day But dank and noisome vapours play Around the wretched room: And adders, snakes, and toads therein, As afterwards was known, Long in this loathsome vault had bin, And were to monsters grown. Into this foul and fearful place, The fair one innocent Was cast, before her lady's face; 60 65 Soon from their holes the vipers creep, And fiercely her assail: A servant listning near the door, With bleeding heart he goes agen To mark the maiden's groans ; And plainly hears, within the den, How she herself bemoans. Again he to his lady hies With all the haste he may : She into furious passion flies, And orders him away. Still back again does he return To hear her tender cries; The virgin now had ceas'd to mourn; 95 Which fill'd him with surprize. In grief, and horror, and affright, He listens at the walls; But finding all was silent quite, He to his lady calls. Too sure, O lady, now quoth he, Make hast, for shame, and come and see; I fear the virgin's dead. 100 She starts to hear her sudden fate, 105 But all her haste was now too late, The door being open'd, strait they found The virgin stretch'd along : 110 Two dreadful snakes had wrapt her round, Which her to death had stung. One round her legs, her thighs, her wast, Had twined his fatal wreath : The other close her neck embrac'd, The snakes, being from her body thrust, 115 That with excess of blood they burst, Thus with their prey were kill'd. 120 The wicked lady, at this sight, With horror strait ran mad; So raving dy'd, as was most right, 'Cause she no pity had. Let me advise you, ladies all, It causeth many a one to fall, 125 IX. Jealousy, Tyrant of the Mind. THIS song is by Dryden, being inserted in his TragiComedy of Love Triumphant, &c. On account of the subject, it is inserted here. WHAT state of life can be so blest, O Jealousie ! Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind. 5 |