CERES. Alas! My boding heart,—I dread the worst. Oh, careless nymphs! oh, heedless Proserpine! And did you leave her wandering by herself? She is immortal,—yet unusual fear Runs through my veins. Let all the woods be sought, Let every dryad, every gamesome faun[9] Tell where they last beheld her snowy feet Tread the soft, mossy paths of the wild wood. But that I see the base of Etna firm I well might fear that she had fallen a prey To Earth-born Typheus, who might have arisen And seized her as the fairest child of heaven, That in his dreary caverns she lies bound; It is not so: all is as safe and calm As when I left my child. Oh, fatal day! Eunoe does not return: in vain she seeks Through the black woods and down the darksome glades, And night is hiding all things from our view. I will away, and on the highest top Of snowy Etna, kindle two clear flames. Night shall not hide her from my anxious search, No moment will I rest, or sleep, or pause Till she returns, until I clasp again My only loved one, my lost Proserpine. END OF ACT FIRST. Footnotes [1] There is an apostrophe _on_ the s. [2] MS. _mytles._ [3] MS. _fawns_ [4] Inserted in a later hand, here as p. 18. [5] The intended place of the apostrophe is not clear. [6] MS. _Ocean’ foam_ as if a genitive was meant; but cf. _Ocean foam_ in the Song of Apollo (_Midas_). [7] MS. _the bright gold fields._ [8] MS. _fawn._ [9] MS. _fawn._ ACT II Scene. The Plain of Enna as before. Enter Ino & Eunoe. EUNOE. How weary am I! and the hot sun flushes My cheeks that else were white with fear and grief[.] E’er since that fatal day, dear sister nymph, On which we lost our lovely Proserpine, I have but wept and watched the livelong night And all the day have wandered through the woods[.] INO. How all is changed since that unhappy eve! Ceres forever weeps, seeking her child, And in her rage has struck the land with blight; Trinacria mourns with her;—its fertile fields Are dry and barren, and all little brooks Struggling scarce creep within their altered banks; The flowers that erst were wont with bended heads, To gaze within the clear and glassy wave, Have died, unwatered by the failing stream.— And yet their hue but mocks the deeper grief Which is the fountain of these bitter tears. But who is this, that with such eager looks Hastens this way?— EUNOE. ’Tis fairest Arethuse, A stranger naiad, yet you know her well. INO. My eyes were blind with tears. Enter Arethusa. Dear Arethuse, Methinks I read glad tidings in your eyes, Your smiles are the swift messengers that bear A tale of coming joy, which we, alas! Can answer but with tears, unless you bring To our grief solace, Hope to our Despair. Have you found Proserpine? or know you where The loved nymph wanders, hidden from our search? ARETHUSE. Where is corn-crowned Ceres? I have hastened To ease her anxious heart. EUNOE. Oh! dearest Naiad, Herald of joy! Now will great Ceres bless Thy welcome coming & more welcome tale.