Poems on Several Occasions With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition |
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MADEIRA. |
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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MADEIRA.
Et quæ dempsistis vitæ date tempora famæ.
Ovid.
Ovid.
Macham, an Englishman, whom a French Historian or Novelist stiles Sir Robert, having carried off by Sea a Lady, whose Name other Writers say he honourably concealed, but the Frenchman has christened Anne D'Arset, we may suppose he intends D'Arcy, was driven by Storms to the Island afterward from its vast Forests called Madeira. She died there soon after her Arrival, very probably of the Fatigue, and was buried by her Lover; who fixed a Table with an Inscription, and is said to have built a Chapel of Boards ever her Tomb. Whether he got off with his Companions to Barbary, or died on the Island is uncertain; but as Poetry has a Right to prefer the agreeable to the probable, I have followed the French Author farther in Verse than I think myself bound to believe him in Prose. The whole Story is contained in few Words. The Fate of two unfortunate English Lovers led the Portuguese to discover an Island, which we may reasonably judge one of the Fortunate, where the Ancient placed their Elysium.
Ye lofty Woods! ye Rocks of rugged Stone!
Ye falling Streams! attend a Lover's Moan!
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Be dumb ye Murmurs of the circling Main!
For never Rocks, or Woods, or Streams, or Vale,
Or rolling Ocean, heard so sad a Tale.
By Birth distinguish'd from the vulgar Herd,
Of Ancestors for Martial Worth preferr'd
I sprung: To emulate their Deeds I strove;
Excited much by Fame, and more by Love.
My Youth, inur'd to Arms, was spent in vain
For royal Edward on the Gallie Plain:
For what avails Success, if Fate denies
The beauteous Bride, the sole expected Prize?
My hated Rival, in my Absence bold,
Had brib'd her Friends with Grandeur and with Gold;
And tho' reluctant, and by Force compell'd,
Her Vows, extorted and her Charms with-held.
O! perish all whom Avarice can buy
To int'rest Heav'n in solemn Perjury!
To feel my Wrongs too swiftly I return,
And with a Soldier's just Resentment burn:
The base Ingratitude of Courts upbraid,
In Terms by Sycophants to Court convey'd.
For this dishonour'd and for this confin'd,
Both Love and Vengeance fire the manly Mind:
But now releas'd, my Passion I restrain,
Or Love and Vengeance had alike been vain:
Nor cou'd my Heart its elder Claim resign;
The Vows he forc'd had long before been mine:
Determin'd thus to re-assert her Charms,
I seiz'd, and bore her from my Rival's Arms.
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But soon recover'd when she saw me near:
For Love was present, and that Fear control'd;
And Women hope Protection from the Bold.
A well built Bark attended near the Shore,
Where meeting Avon and Sabrina roar:
With fav'ring Gales to waft us o'er the Main
In Hope some friendly Port of France to gain.
But Winds arise, Air thunders, Ocean swells:
And my sad Soul the future Woe foretells.
Heav'n was my Foe; I now behold too late
My rash Attempt, and dread impending Fate:
Yet, if I fear, I fear for her alone;
Or for the Friends my Folly had undone.
What cou'd I do to chear the lab'ring Band?
The frighted Fair had all my Soul unman'd.
Now in my Breast her faded Cheek she hides,
And mingling Tears descend in silent Tides:
In mutual Murmurs now too late I blame
My daring Rapine, she absolves my Flame,
The same our Passion, and our Fate the same.
Now Days and Nights without Distinction past,
And all was Darkness o'er the wat'ry Waste;
Till driven beyond old Europe's utmost Bound,
With only Skies above, and Ocean round,
The Sun burst forth; and as the Gloom dispell'd,
A low-hung Cloud at Distance we beheld:
And as the Day the wide Horizon clears,
Now to our dubious Eyes an Isle appears,
Which high to Heav'n her sylvan Summit rears.
And now, perhaps as some Enchantment leads,
Beyond our View the fancy'd Isle recedes.
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Or Fate conducts us to a certain Grave.
And now my Mates obtain the wish'd for Ground,
Where the steep Shore is lash'd with Sea profound:
Grove above Grove ascends in gradual Scenes,
And golden Apples glitter thro' the Greens;
There from the Rocks the gushing Torrents flow,
To wind in Mazes thro' the Vale below.
Of savage Beasts they found no direful Den;
No Cattle, Works of Art, or Steps of Men:
But, void of Fear, the Birds of sweetest Song,
And Doves re-murmur'd all the Cliffs along.
The fertile Climate and the fragrant Air
Might banish any Sadness but Despair.
The rest entranc'd the blissful Seat survey'd,
While from the Bark I bore the dear bought Maid:
Her tender Frame no longer cou'd sustain
The boist'rous Blast, and Dangers of the Main,
However Love exalts the gen'rous Mind,
Yet Woman's feeble Force must lag behind.
The Toils and Dangers of the Seas o'ercome,
An unknown World must be her only Home.
While my sad Heart was pierc'd with equal Woe
I need myself the Comfort I bestow.
What said I not her flowing Tears to stay?
Beneath a spreading Cedar as we lay.
No more thy Country to thy Thought recall;
Or former Friends: in me behold them all.
When I for thee the bold Adventure try'd
Love was my Friend, and Fortune was my Guide:
The now relenting Pow'rs that rule above,
And persecuted once, indulge our Love;
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In happy Exile on a World unknown.
Short was the Triumph; for the Winds again
Drove back the shatter'd Pinnace to the Main:
Wide o'er the Waves she vanish'd from our View;
With all the Fates of the remaining Crew.
But when the Maid beheld the Vessel tost,
Beyond our Ken, and Hope itself was lost,
For ever now to Sea-girt Rocks confin'd,
Far from the sweet Converse of Humankind;
A while she like a Statue fix'd remains,
With cold Despair that freezes in her Veins:
Then pale and lifeless in my Arms she falls,
Till my known Voice her flying Soul recalls.
What Aid in Solitude cou'd I impart?
Or what the Med'cine for a wounded Heart?
Three sleepless Nights, and three succeeding Days,
Her Head she strove and only strove to raise:
But all in Silence lifts to Heav'n her Eyes;
Then turns them on me, closes them, and dies.
My fatal Love, by adverse Heav'n accurst,
Endur'd these Ills, and this the last and worst.
Beneath the Cedars venerable Shade,
Adorn'd with native Flow'rs, the Tomb I made:
These and my Tears are all I cou'd bestow;
And add the mournful Tablet of our Woe.
Such were the humble Rites that I cou'd pay,
Fate and my Love have summon'd me away:
And you my Friends! Survivors of the Wave,
Unite our Ashes in this common Grave.
If better Fortune to this sylvan Place,
In future Times shall guide a Christian Race,
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Or sad Remembrance of disastrous Love,
The rural Shrine of fragrant Timber rear;
To shade our long neglected Sepulchre
For various Marble let the Floor be spread
With the cold Reliques of the silent Dead.
Whoe'er shall touch on this Hesperian Shore,
This Ocean pass'd and all its Dangers o'er,
When to high Heav'n your grateful Vows arise,
Mix with your Hymns our solemn Obsequies:
Then, when the Priest the pious Requiem sings,
And pure Devotion mounts on Angels Wings,
Severe Religion may perhaps relent,
And drop a Tear upon the Monument.
Our Fate, remember'd on a foreign Coast,
Shall give to Honour what to Life was lost.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |