Proserpine:

A DRAMA IN TWO ACTS.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CERES.
PROSERPINE.
INO, EUNOE. Nymphs attendant upon Proserpine.
IRIS.
ARETHUSA, Naiad of a Spring.

Shades from Hell, among which Ascalaphus.

Scene; the plain of Enna, in Sicily.

PROSERPINE.

ACT I.


_Scene; a beautiful plain, shadowed on one side by an
overhanging rock, on the other a chesnut wood. Etna
at a distance._

_Enter Ceres, Proserpine, Ino and Eunoe._

_Pros._ Dear Mother, leave me not! I love to rest
Under the shadow of that hanging cave
And listen to your tales. Your Proserpine
Entreats you stay; sit on this shady bank,
And as I twine a wreathe tell once again
The combat of the Titans and the Gods;
Or how the Python fell beneath the dart
Of dread Apollo; or of Daphne's change,--
That coyest Grecian maid, whose pointed leaves
Now shade her lover's brow. And I the while
Gathering the starry flowers of this fair plain
Will weave a chaplet, Mother, for thy hair.
But without thee, the plain I think is vacant,
Its [Footnote: There is an apostrophe _on_ the s.]
blossoms fade,--its tall fresh grasses droop,
Nodding their heads like dull things half asleep;--
Go not, dear Mother, from your Proserpine.

_Cer._ My lovely child, it is high Jove's command:-- [2]
The golden self-moved seats surround his throne,
The nectar is poured out by Ganymede,
And the ambrosia fills the golden baskets;
They drink, for Bacchus is already there,
But none will eat till I dispense the food.
I must away--dear Proserpine, farewel!--
Eunoe can tell thee how the giants fell;
Or dark-eyed Ino sing the saddest change
Of Syrinx or of Daphne, or the doom
Of impious Prometheus, and the boy
Of fair Pandora, Mother of mankind.
This only charge I leave thee and thy nymphs,--
Depart not from each other; be thou circled
By that fair guard, and then no earth-born Power
Would tempt my wrath, and steal thee from their sight[.]
But wandering alone, by feint or force,
You might be lost, and I might never know
Thy hapless fate. Farewel, sweet daughter mine,
Remember my commands.

_Pros._ --Mother, farewel!
Climb the bright sky with rapid wings; and swift
As a beam shot from great Apollo's bow
Rebounds from the calm mirror of the sea
Back to his quiver in the Sun, do thou
Return again to thy loved Proserpine.

(_Exit Ceres._)

And now, dear Nymphs, while the hot sun is high [3]
Darting his influence right upon the plain,
Let us all sit beneath the narrow shade
That noontide Etna casts.--And, Ino, sweet,
Come hither; and while idling thus we rest,
Repeat in verses sweet the tale which says