TAMERLANE.
55
Enter Moneses.
Mon.Already am I onward of my way;Thy tuneful Voice comes like a hollow SoundAt distance to my Ears. My Eyes grow heavy,And all the glorious Lights of Heav'n look dim;'Tis the last Office they shall ever do me,To view thee once, and then to close and die.
Arp.Alas! how happy have we been, Moneses?Ye gentle Days, that once were ours; what JoysDid every chearful Morning bring along?No Fears, no Jealousies, no angry Parents,That for unequal Births, or Fortunes frown'd;But Love, that kindly join'd our Hearts, to bless us,Made us a Blessing too to all besides.
Mon.Oh! Cast not thy remembrance back, Arpasia,'Tis Grief unutterable, 'tis Distraction!But let this last of hours be peaceful Sorrow;Here let me kneel, and pay my latest Vows;Be witness, all ye Saints, thou Heav'n and Nature,Be witness of my Truth, for you have known it;Be witness, that I never knew a PleasureIn all the: World, could offer like Arpasia;Be witness, that I liv'd but in Arpasia;And oh! be witness, that her Loss has kill'd me.
Arp.While thou art speaking, Life begins to fail,And every tender Accent chills like Death.Oh! let me haste then yet, e'er Day declines,And the long Night prevail, once more, to tell theeWhat, and how dear Moneses has been to me.What has he not been?———All the Names of Love,Brothers, or Fathers, Husbands, all are poor:Moneses is my self, in my fond Heart,Ev'n in my vital Blood he lives and reigns;The last dear Object of my parting SoulWill be Moneses; the last Breath that lingersWithin my panting Breast, shall sigh Moneses.
Mon.
