But where the shoals of merchants meeting?
Welcome to their friends repeating,
Busy bargains' deafer sound?
Tongue confused of every nation?
Nothing here but desolation,
Mournful silence reigns around.
_Aug._ O Hermes! pity me!
I was, while heaven did smile,
The queen of all this isle,
Europe's pride,
And Albion's bride;
But gone my plighted lord! ah, gone is he!
O Hermes! pity me!
_Tham._ And I the noble Flood, whose tributary tide
Does on her silver margent smoothly glide;
But heaven grew jealous of our happy state,
And bid revolving fate
Our doom decree;
No more the King of Floods am I,
No more the Queen of Albion, she!
[_These two Lines are sung by Reprises
betwixt_ AUGUSTA _and_ THAMESIS.
_Aug._ O Hermes! pity me! } _Sung by_ AUG. _and_
} THAM. _together._
_Tham._ O Hermes! pity me! }
_Aug._ Behold!
_Tham._ Behold!
_Aug._ My turrets on the ground,
That once my temples crowned!
_Tham._ The sedgy honours of my brows dispersed!
My urn reversed!
_Merc._ Rise, rise, Augusta, rise!
And wipe thy weeping eyes:
Augusta!--for I call thee so:
'Tis lawful for the gods to know
Thy future name,
And growing fame.
Rise, rise, Augusta, rise.
_Aug._ O never, never will I rise,
Never will I cease my mourning,
Never wipe my weeping eyes,
Till my plighted lord's returning!
Never, never will I rise!
_Merc.
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