IRIS. Thy fate, sweet Proserpine, is sealed by Jove, When Enna is starred by flowers, and the sun Shoots his hot rays strait on the gladsome land, When Summer reigns, then thou shalt live on Earth, And tread these plains, or sporting with your nymphs, Or at your Mother’s side, in peaceful joy. But when hard frost congeals the bare, black ground, The trees have lost their leaves, & painted birds Wailing for food sail through the piercing air; Then you descend to deepest night and reign Great Queen of Tartarus, ’mid[3] shadows dire, Offspring of Hell,—or in the silent groves Of, fair Elysium through which Lethe runs, The sleepy river; where the windless air Is never struck by flight or song of bird,— But all is calm and clear, bestowing rest, After the toil of life, to wretched men, Whom thus the Gods reward for sufferings Gods cannot know; a throng of empty shades! The endless circle of the year will bring Joy in its turn, and seperation sad; Six months to light and Earth,—six months to Hell. PROSERPINA. Dear Mother, let me kiss that tear which steals Down your pale cheek altered by care and grief. This is not misery; ’tis but a slight change Prom our late happy lot. Six months with thee, Each moment freighted with an age of love: And the six short months in saddest Tartarus Shall pass in dreams of swift returning joy. Six months together we shall dwell on earth, Six months in dreams we shall companions be, Jove’s doom is void; we are forever joined. CERES. Oh, fairest child! sweet summer visitor! Thy looks cheer me, so shall they cheer this land Which I will fly, thou gone. Nor seed of grass, Or corn shall grow, thou absent from the earth; But all shall lie beneath in hateful night Until at thy return, the fresh green springs, The fields are covered o’er with summer plants. And when thou goest the heavy grain will droop And die under my frown, scattering the seeds, That will not reappear till your return. Farewel, sweet child, Queen of the nether world, There shine as chaste Diana’s silver car Islanded in the deep circumfluous night. Giver of fruits! for such thou shalt be styled, Sweet Prophetess of Summer, coming forth From the slant shadow of the wintry earth, In thy car drawn by snowy-breasted swallows! Another kiss, & then again farewel! Winter in losing thee has lost its all, And will be doubly bare, & hoar, & drear, Its bleak winds whistling o’er the cold pinched ground Which neither flower or grass will decorate. And as my tears fall first, so shall the trees Shed their changed leaves upon your six months tomb: The clouded air will hide from Phœbus’ eye The dreadful change your absence operates. Thus has black Pluto changed the reign of Jove, He seizes half the Earth when he takes thee. THE END Footnotes [1] MS. _this isle?—That drooped when you were lost_ [2] MS. Look at—the branches. [3] MS. _mid_ MIDAS. A DRAMA IN TWO ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONAE