No rebellious Slaves betray'd me,
Free I liv'd as Nature made me.
III.
Bacchus, Ceres, Venus fir'd me;
I alone have lost true Pleasure.
Freedom is the only Treasure.
Chorus of Dæmons, expressing Horror and Despair.
Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving,
No, no,
The Powers below
No Pity know,
Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving:
No, no,
The Powers below.
No Pity know,
Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving.
Flor. to Cor. To taste of Pain, and yet
to gaze on thee,
To meet, and yet to mourn, but ill agree.
Well may the Brave contend, the Wise contrive,
In vain against their Stars the destin'd strive.
Cor. So to th' appointed Grove, the feather'd Pair
Fly chirping on, unwatchful of the Snare,
Pursuing Love, and wing'd with am'rous Thought,
The wanton Couple in one Toil are caught,
