Hear then the cause of her disastrous doom!

A snake stole forth and stung her suddenly.

I am so burdened with this weight of gloom That, lo, I bid you all come weep with me!

CHORUS OF DRYADS.

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

For all heaven's light is spent.

Let rivers break their bound, Swollen with tears outpoured from our lament!

Fell death hath ta'en their splendour from the skies: The stars are sunk in gloom.

Stern death hath plucked the bloom Of nymphs:--Eurydice down-trodden lies.

Weep, Love! The woodland cries.

Weep, groves and founts; Ye craggy mounts; you leafy dell, Beneath whose boughs she fell, Bend every branch in time with this sad sound.

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

Ah, fortune pitiless! Ah, cruel snake!

Ah, luckless doom of woes!

Like a cropped summer rose, Or lily cut, she withers on the brake.

Her face, which once did make Our age so bright With beauty's light, is faint and pale; And the clear lamp doth fail, Which shed pure splendour all the world around

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

Who e'er will sing so sweetly, now she's gone?

Her gentle voice to hear, The wild winds dared not stir; And now they breathe but sorrow, moan for moan: So many joys are flown, Such jocund days Doth Death erase with her sweet eyes!

Bid earth's lament arise, And make our dirge through heaven and sea rebound!

Let the wide air with our complaint resound!

A DRYAD.

'Tis surely Orpheus, who hath reached the hill, With harp in hand, glad-eyed and light of heart!

He thinks that his dear love is living still.

My news will stab him with a sudden smart: An unforeseen and unexpected blow Wounds worst and stings the bosom's tenderest part.

Death hath disjoined the truest love, I know, That nature yet to this low world revealed, And quenched the flame in its most charming glow.

Go, sisters, hasten ye to yonder field, Where on the sward lies slain Eurydice; Strew her with flowers and gra.s.ses! I must yield This man the measure of his misery.

[_Exeunt_ DRYADS. _Enter_ ORPHEUS, _singing_.

ORPHEUS.

_Musa, triumphales t.i.tulos et gesta canamus Herculis, et forti monstra subacta manu; Ut timidae malri pressos ostenderit angues, Intrepidusque fero riserit ore puer._

A DRYAD.

Orpheus, I bring thee bitter news. Alas!

Thy nymph who was so beautiful, is slain!

flying from Aristaeus o'er the gra.s.s, What time she reached yon stream that threads the plain,

A snake which lurked mid flowers where she did pa.s.s, Pierced her fair foot with his envenomed bane: So fierce, so potent was the sting, that she Died in mid course. Ah, woe that this should be!

[ORPHEUS _turns to go in silence._

MNESILLUS, _the satyr_.

Mark ye how sunk in woe The poor wretch forth doth pa.s.s, And may not answer, for his grief, one word?

On some lone sh.o.r.e, unheard, Far, far away, he'll go, And pour his heart forth to the winds, alas!

I'll follow and observe if he Moves with his moan the hills to sympathy.

[_Follows_ ORPHEUS.

ORPHEUS.

Let us lament, O lyre disconsolate!

Our wonted music is in tune no more.

Lament we while the heavens revolve, and let The nightingale be conquered on Love's sh.o.r.e!

O heaven, O earth, O sea, O cruel fate!

How shall I bear a pang so pa.s.sing sore?

Eurydice, my love! O life of mine!

On earth I will no more without thee pine!

I will go down unto the doors of h.e.l.l, And see if mercy may be found below: Perchance we shall reverse fate's spoken spell With tearful songs and words of honeyed woe: Perchance will Death be pitiful; for well With singing have we turned the streams that flow; Moved stones, together hind and tiger drawn, And made trees dance upon the forest lawn.

[_Pa.s.ses from sight on his way to Hades._

MNESILLUS.

The staff of Fate is strong And will not lightly bend, Nor yet the stubborn gates of steely h.e.l.l.

Nay, I can see full well His life will not be long: Those downward feet no more will earthward wend.

What marvel if they lose the light, Who make blind Love their guide by day and night!

SCENE IV

ORPHEUS, _at the gate of h.e.l.l._

Pity, nay pity for a lover's moan!

Ye Powers of h.e.l.l, let pity reign in you!

To your dark regions led me Love alone: Downward upon his wings of light I flew.

Hush, Cerberus! Howl not by Pluto's throne!

For when you hear my tale of misery, you, Nor you alone, but all who here abide In this blind world, will weep by Lethe's tide.

There is no need, ye Furies, thus to rage; To dart those snakes that in your tresses twine: Knew ye the cause of this my pilgrimage, Ye would lie down and join your moans with mine.

Let this poor wretch but pa.s.s, who war doth wage With heaven, the elements, the powers divine!

I beg for pity or for death. No more!

But open, ope h.e.l.l's adamantine door!

[ORPHEUS _enters h.e.l.l._

PLUTO.