 | An epistle from Sempronia to Cethegus |  |
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AN EPISTLE FROM Sempronia to Cethegus.
Such Eyes as Somerset's;
Imperious Dame!
With mock'd Ambition fierce, and red with Shame;
Her Murders, Poisons, and Intrigues display'd,
And all the Sorc'ries of her Art betray'd.
Cast on that Court where once she shone in State,
And what she could not Rule, resolv'd to Hate.
Such Eyes, as thro' Augusta's Streets I past,
The fall'n Sempronia on St. J---s's cast;
Forc'd by my Crimes to go, nor yet content
That Crimes so high with me unpunish'd went;
I curst each Object of my Sense and Thought,
Scorning that Mercy which before I sought;
But most the Seat of Greatness urg'd my Care,
Nurse of my Hopes, and Cause of my Despair.
Then my full Soul unable to restrain,
Thus vow'd Impetuous,—may the Vow obtain!
With mock'd Ambition fierce, and red with Shame;
Her Murders, Poisons, and Intrigues display'd,
And all the Sorc'ries of her Art betray'd.
Cast on that Court where once she shone in State,
And what she could not Rule, resolv'd to Hate.
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The fall'n Sempronia on St. J---s's cast;
Forc'd by my Crimes to go, nor yet content
That Crimes so high with me unpunish'd went;
I curst each Object of my Sense and Thought,
Scorning that Mercy which before I sought;
But most the Seat of Greatness urg'd my Care,
Nurse of my Hopes, and Cause of my Despair.
Then my full Soul unable to restrain,
Thus vow'd Impetuous,—may the Vow obtain!
‘If e'er I cry'd, if e'er Infernal Powers
‘Can once again recal my Happy Hours,
‘To higher Grandeur I will still aspire,
‘And set that World, which now I leave, on Fire.
‘Whatever Treason, when her Schemes are trac'd,
‘Whatever Pride contemn'd, or Pow'r disgrac'd,
‘Whatever Envy whetted by Neglect,
‘What Malice, Hell, or Woman can effect:
All shall be try'd,—again I'll Rule in State,
‘Or greatly perish in a Cause so great.
Oh! my Cethegus! Praise at least my Will,
And own Sempronia dares be wicked still;
The more I feel, my Vow the stronger grows,
My bold Ambition rises with my Woes;
Those Woes I wish, nor seek not to relieve,
Let me, still let me, unto Madness grieve;
That I may thank the Grief that fires my Mind,
Till Danger cannot fright, nor Faith can bind.
Thus wrinkl'd Witches, harrass'd out with Care,
Draw Beams of Comfort from extream Despair;
They bless the rolling Years that shew them Old,
To make them in aspiring Mischief bold.
‘Can once again recal my Happy Hours,
‘To higher Grandeur I will still aspire,
‘And set that World, which now I leave, on Fire.
‘Whatever Treason, when her Schemes are trac'd,
‘Whatever Pride contemn'd, or Pow'r disgrac'd,
‘Whatever Envy whetted by Neglect,
‘What Malice, Hell, or Woman can effect:
All shall be try'd,—again I'll Rule in State,
‘Or greatly perish in a Cause so great.
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And own Sempronia dares be wicked still;
The more I feel, my Vow the stronger grows,
My bold Ambition rises with my Woes;
Those Woes I wish, nor seek not to relieve,
Let me, still let me, unto Madness grieve;
That I may thank the Grief that fires my Mind,
Till Danger cannot fright, nor Faith can bind.
Thus wrinkl'd Witches, harrass'd out with Care,
Draw Beams of Comfort from extream Despair;
They bless the rolling Years that shew them Old,
To make them in aspiring Mischief bold.
What shall Sempronia leave her Native Soil,
To sooth her Sorrows in a soft Exile?
Shall she to shady Woods and Streams retreat
To languish in the Green-sick Virgin's Seat?
Shall she in Desert Woods, or Caves repine,
Or with her Tears encrease the swelling Rhine?
Vain idle Sorrows! Such as Poets tell
In the poor Days of Innocence befel,
When Mortals utter'd their Complaints alone,
And wanting Power, for Vengeance, learnt to groan;
When Wit no Means suggesting for a Cure,
Fell to her last mean Lesson to endure.
To sooth her Sorrows in a soft Exile?
Shall she to shady Woods and Streams retreat
To languish in the Green-sick Virgin's Seat?
Shall she in Desert Woods, or Caves repine,
Or with her Tears encrease the swelling Rhine?
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In the poor Days of Innocence befel,
When Mortals utter'd their Complaints alone,
And wanting Power, for Vengeance, learnt to groan;
When Wit no Means suggesting for a Cure,
Fell to her last mean Lesson to endure.
No, rather be my better Thoughts employ'd
On the past Triumphs which my Soul enjoy'd;
Let me in Vision still my Pride repeat,
Place me the Suppliant Courtier at my Feet,
Here sue the Fair, and here the Valiant bend,
And the proud Statesman on my Smile attend;
Set Mitres, Ermins, G---ters in my View,
And Oh! Triumphant Thought, the Sc---er too;
Yes, yes, I must, I will indulge me here,
And for a while the fancied Glory wear;
Nor thou, Serena, mighty by my Fall,
Nor curst Hortensio's Pow'r, nor Gods, nor All,
Shall force the dear Idea from my Brain,
I am a Q---n, and thus at least I'll Reign.
On the past Triumphs which my Soul enjoy'd;
Let me in Vision still my Pride repeat,
Place me the Suppliant Courtier at my Feet,
Here sue the Fair, and here the Valiant bend,
And the proud Statesman on my Smile attend;
Set Mitres, Ermins, G---ters in my View,
And Oh! Triumphant Thought, the Sc---er too;
Yes, yes, I must, I will indulge me here,
And for a while the fancied Glory wear;
Nor thou, Serena, mighty by my Fall,
Nor curst Hortensio's Pow'r, nor Gods, nor All,
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I am a Q---n, and thus at least I'll Reign.
Oh Flatt'ring Thought! Oh Transport Insincere!
Yet, my Cethegus, with Compassion hear,
Condemn me not, my Friend, but gently moan
A Crime so Glorious, and so like your own:
For had Sempronia still stood high in Fame,
Cethegus still had been the Second Name;
And long as Britomartia her obey'd,
So long had he in his Hiberia sway'd.
Yet, my Cethegus, with Compassion hear,
Condemn me not, my Friend, but gently moan
A Crime so Glorious, and so like your own:
For had Sempronia still stood high in Fame,
Cethegus still had been the Second Name;
And long as Britomartia her obey'd,
So long had he in his Hiberia sway'd.
There was a Time,—but what unlucky Pow'r,
What Planet overrul'd the fatal Hour,
When first Serena from the Crowd I drew,
And set her Virtues in the Royal View?
What could I hope from so much graceful Ease,
Such native Elegance, and Arts to please?
Or rather, what should not this Heart have fear'd,
From Goodness by such Loyalty endear'd?
Could the White Turtle with the Kite combine,
Or Chast Penelope with Helen join?
But when Above our Ruin is design'd,
Fate is our Guide, and keeps the Follower blind;
We to the Precipice unheeding go,
Nor find the Mischief, till we feel the Blow.
What Planet overrul'd the fatal Hour,
When first Serena from the Crowd I drew,
And set her Virtues in the Royal View?
What could I hope from so much graceful Ease,
Such native Elegance, and Arts to please?
Or rather, what should not this Heart have fear'd,
From Goodness by such Loyalty endear'd?
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Or Chast Penelope with Helen join?
But when Above our Ruin is design'd,
Fate is our Guide, and keeps the Follower blind;
We to the Precipice unheeding go,
Nor find the Mischief, till we feel the Blow.
Thus when my Noon of Glory highest run,
And scorch'd, and warm'd at Pleasure, like the Sun;
When unobstructed in my Wish I saw
The Woman's utmost Pride, my Will a Law;
When my Hand loaded with the mighty Weight
Stretch'd on, and sought a more ambitious Height,
Then in the interval of highest Fame,
And Disappointment sunk my glorious Flame.—
And scorch'd, and warm'd at Pleasure, like the Sun;
When unobstructed in my Wish I saw
The Woman's utmost Pride, my Will a Law;
When my Hand loaded with the mighty Weight
Stretch'd on, and sought a more ambitious Height,
Then in the interval of highest Fame,
And Disappointment sunk my glorious Flame.—
Think then what Tortures thy Sempronia bore,
What Furies her divided Passions tore,
What her Tongue utter'd, what her Eyes exprest,
And how much more lay struggling in my Breast?
Young Essex felt not a more piercing Shame
Corrode his Bosom, and his Face enflame,
When scarce his big Resentment he contain'd,
Scarce left the Royal striking Arm unstain'd.
Such Pangs as mine the haughty Prelate felt,
(Tho' ne'er like his this stubborn Heart shall melt,)
When falling from the Pomp of Greatness down,
He lost a Monarch's Heart, and Triple Crown.
O Woolsey! Glorious in thy Rise! But all
That Glory sunk in thy Repenting Fall.
What Furies her divided Passions tore,
What her Tongue utter'd, what her Eyes exprest,
And how much more lay struggling in my Breast?
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Corrode his Bosom, and his Face enflame,
When scarce his big Resentment he contain'd,
Scarce left the Royal striking Arm unstain'd.
Such Pangs as mine the haughty Prelate felt,
(Tho' ne'er like his this stubborn Heart shall melt,)
When falling from the Pomp of Greatness down,
He lost a Monarch's Heart, and Triple Crown.
O Woolsey! Glorious in thy Rise! But all
That Glory sunk in thy Repenting Fall.
'Tis true I mourn'd, but not like thee I mourn'd,
My strong reluctant Spirits inward turn'd,
No Trace of Sorrow in my Brow was seen,
My Carriage scornful still, and stiff my Mien;
Pride brought her needful Succours to my Heart,
Which, while it felt the Wound, disdain'd the Smart.
Then when Sempronia's blasted Name was Sung,
The Jest and Sport of ev'ry idle Tongue;
When each insulting Pen proclaim'd my Shame,
And Bards that prais'd before, condemn'd my Fame,
Then fearless, in superior Guilt stood,
And scorn'd the mean Abasement to be Good.
My strong reluctant Spirits inward turn'd,
No Trace of Sorrow in my Brow was seen,
My Carriage scornful still, and stiff my Mien;
Pride brought her needful Succours to my Heart,
Which, while it felt the Wound, disdain'd the Smart.
Then when Sempronia's blasted Name was Sung,
The Jest and Sport of ev'ry idle Tongue;
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And Bards that prais'd before, condemn'd my Fame,
Then fearless, in superior Guilt stood,
And scorn'd the mean Abasement to be Good.
Yet discontented in the Publick View,
Great in myself, I Pompously withdrew,
Resolv'd in fair Blanamia's Tow'rs to hide
Diminish'd Honour, and encreasing Pride.
There my Germanicus in Arms I view'd,
And all the Captive Nations he subdu'd.
Oh! With what feeling Transport and Delight,
The Spoils of War now glitter'd in my Sight!
On the rich Looms and figur'd Silks I hung,
Till my charm'd Soul forgot she had a Tongue.
Here breathing Statues my Attention wait,
And there I grasp'd my Deity in Plate:
Now Titian's Hand, now Raphael's draw my Eyes,
In vain defrauded, Heaven demands the Prize:
Temples in vain their ravish'd Honours mourn,
Which now Blanamia's lasting Walls adorn.
Great in myself, I Pompously withdrew,
Resolv'd in fair Blanamia's Tow'rs to hide
Diminish'd Honour, and encreasing Pride.
There my Germanicus in Arms I view'd,
And all the Captive Nations he subdu'd.
Oh! With what feeling Transport and Delight,
The Spoils of War now glitter'd in my Sight!
On the rich Looms and figur'd Silks I hung,
Till my charm'd Soul forgot she had a Tongue.
Here breathing Statues my Attention wait,
And there I grasp'd my Deity in Plate:
Now Titian's Hand, now Raphael's draw my Eyes,
In vain defrauded, Heaven demands the Prize:
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Which now Blanamia's lasting Walls adorn.
Ah! Why forgets the stately Dome to rise?
Why do the threatning Walls forbear the Skies?
Why, ask the Fabrick her Ten Thousand Hands,
And in her midmost Height unfinish'd Stands?
O Peace accurst! O poor Ignoble Aim!
O Impotence, too slow to follow Fame!
Curb to Ambition, that controuls its Race,
And checks the Warriour in the glorious Chace.
Had not thy duller Pow'rs his Rage restrain'd,
Still had he Conquer'd, and by Conquest gain'd
New Trophies of his Arms had here been shown,
And all Lutetia's Wealth had been my own.
Why do the threatning Walls forbear the Skies?
Why, ask the Fabrick her Ten Thousand Hands,
And in her midmost Height unfinish'd Stands?
O Peace accurst! O poor Ignoble Aim!
O Impotence, too slow to follow Fame!
Curb to Ambition, that controuls its Race,
And checks the Warriour in the glorious Chace.
Had not thy duller Pow'rs his Rage restrain'd,
Still had he Conquer'd, and by Conquest gain'd
New Trophies of his Arms had here been shown,
And all Lutetia's Wealth had been my own.
Yet, my Cethegus, yet some Hope remains,
And glimmers bright from thy Auspicious Pains;
Thy Heart unwearied still the Game pursues,
And all her Old Impieties renews.
All is not lost, the fall'n Archangel cry'd,
Unconquerable Hate, and stedfast Pride,
Revengeful Thought, and Study to do ill,
This was His View,—and this is left Us still.
And glimmers bright from thy Auspicious Pains;
Thy Heart unwearied still the Game pursues,
And all her Old Impieties renews.
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Unconquerable Hate, and stedfast Pride,
Revengeful Thought, and Study to do ill,
This was His View,—and this is left Us still.
Be thy first Art to blast Hortensio's Care,
Aim ev'ry Speech, and ev'ry Libel there,
With new Intrigues his rising Projects vex,
And with Mysterious Fears his Schemes perplex:
If Art prove vain, let Villany succeed,
For he who cannot be controul'd, may Bleed,
Dare to thrust Home, and let Hortensio know
It is no Foreign Hand that gives the Blow.
Sanctorio's smoother Tongue, and warmer Heart
Faces the Bold, and scorns the Cunning Part,
There let Vapalius, in Disgraces Bold,
Fix his forg'd Perjuries, and Foreign Gold.
I only draw the faint extremest Lines,
To warm thy Soul to more Sublime Designs;
Tis mine the first great Office to perform,
And with a Female Ardour raise the Storm;
'Tis yours, like angry Dæmons, to prepare,
With bristling Spears, to vex the troubl'd Air;
While cool Sigillo, in his Magic Cell,
Unseen directs the Magazines of Hell;
Teaches the doubtful Tempest where to spread,
And points the Lightning at the destin'd Head.
Aim ev'ry Speech, and ev'ry Libel there,
With new Intrigues his rising Projects vex,
And with Mysterious Fears his Schemes perplex:
If Art prove vain, let Villany succeed,
For he who cannot be controul'd, may Bleed,
Dare to thrust Home, and let Hortensio know
It is no Foreign Hand that gives the Blow.
Sanctorio's smoother Tongue, and warmer Heart
Faces the Bold, and scorns the Cunning Part,
There let Vapalius, in Disgraces Bold,
Fix his forg'd Perjuries, and Foreign Gold.
I only draw the faint extremest Lines,
To warm thy Soul to more Sublime Designs;
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And with a Female Ardour raise the Storm;
'Tis yours, like angry Dæmons, to prepare,
With bristling Spears, to vex the troubl'd Air;
While cool Sigillo, in his Magic Cell,
Unseen directs the Magazines of Hell;
Teaches the doubtful Tempest where to spread,
And points the Lightning at the destin'd Head.
Warm'd with the Glorious Thoughts, I fain would fly,
Like fam'd Medea, through the distant Sky;
There with my Dragons in exulting Pride,
High in the Element, Triumphant ride;
And while Cethegus gives the fatal Blow,
Rejoice, and Smile upon the Deed below.
Like fam'd Medea, through the distant Sky;
There with my Dragons in exulting Pride,
High in the Element, Triumphant ride;
And while Cethegus gives the fatal Blow,
Rejoice, and Smile upon the Deed below.
The Dutchess of Somerset in King James the First's Reign, divorc'd from the Earl of Essex, married afterwards to the Duke of Somerset, Favourite to the King, Condemn'd for the Murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, a violent, ambitious, intrigueing, Woman.
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Cethegus to Sempronia.
With doubtful Fear, and changeable Surprize,
Thy Lines saluted first Cethegus Eyes,
Unknowing whence the Date, I fear'd they bore
Corinna's Curses from Hiberia's Shore,
Whom there I left to wear off the Remains,
Both of a Mother's, and a Mistress Pains:
But soon as I beheld Sempronia's Name,
My gladden'd Soul confess'd her Ancient Flame;
My dancing Pulses with new Transport beat,
And my Cheeks redden'd with Rebellious Heat;
Still as I read, I found my self excell'd,
And Woman the Superiour Ill, beheld.
Thy Lines saluted first Cethegus Eyes,
Unknowing whence the Date, I fear'd they bore
Corinna's Curses from Hiberia's Shore,
Whom there I left to wear off the Remains,
Both of a Mother's, and a Mistress Pains:
But soon as I beheld Sempronia's Name,
My gladden'd Soul confess'd her Ancient Flame;
My dancing Pulses with new Transport beat,
And my Cheeks redden'd with Rebellious Heat;
Still as I read, I found my self excell'd,
And Woman the Superiour Ill, beheld.
Thy moving Lines my various Passions try'd,
Now I applauded thy obdurate Pride,
That constant to its self maintain'd its Hold,
By Climes unchang'd, by Fortune uncontroul'd.
Brave Spirit! That Disdains the Shocks of Fate,
Strong without Pow'r, and in Disgraces Great.
Thy Fame shall rise above the Græcian Dames,
Shall Shade the less Illustrious Roman Names:
Hadst thou been Dido, when Æneas fled,
Not Thou for Him, but He by Thee had bled;
Rome had in Thee more than Tarquinia seen,
A Bloodier Wife, and more Imperious Queen.
Now I applauded thy obdurate Pride,
That constant to its self maintain'd its Hold,
By Climes unchang'd, by Fortune uncontroul'd.
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Strong without Pow'r, and in Disgraces Great.
Thy Fame shall rise above the Græcian Dames,
Shall Shade the less Illustrious Roman Names:
Hadst thou been Dido, when Æneas fled,
Not Thou for Him, but He by Thee had bled;
Rome had in Thee more than Tarquinia seen,
A Bloodier Wife, and more Imperious Queen.
When you recal the Melancholy Day,
When through Augusta's Street you held your Way,
You to my Thoughts the sad Remembrance draw,
Of that vile Scene, which I with Sorrow saw.
For soon as my Sempronia came in View,
Ten Thousand Curses at the Object flew.
Oh Faithful Tide! The Murmuring Females said,
Within thy Bosom hide her hated Head;
And Thou, O Sea! Bless Britomartia more
In this One Wreck, than e'er you Hurt before;
Ye Winds and Waves, against her Ship engage,
High as her Pride, and Stormy as her Rage.
Here One, whose Fortune had by thee declin'd,
Eating the Bread of Bitterness repin'd,
And pointing to his famish'd Off-spring, shows
The hateful Author of its Father's Woes:
The breaking Merchant by his Arms undone,
Curs'd all the Spoils Germanicus had won;
And then reflecting on his present State,
Condemn'd the Banishment that come so late.
When through Augusta's Street you held your Way,
You to my Thoughts the sad Remembrance draw,
Of that vile Scene, which I with Sorrow saw.
For soon as my Sempronia came in View,
Ten Thousand Curses at the Object flew.
Oh Faithful Tide! The Murmuring Females said,
Within thy Bosom hide her hated Head;
And Thou, O Sea! Bless Britomartia more
In this One Wreck, than e'er you Hurt before;
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High as her Pride, and Stormy as her Rage.
Here One, whose Fortune had by thee declin'd,
Eating the Bread of Bitterness repin'd,
And pointing to his famish'd Off-spring, shows
The hateful Author of its Father's Woes:
The breaking Merchant by his Arms undone,
Curs'd all the Spoils Germanicus had won;
And then reflecting on his present State,
Condemn'd the Banishment that come so late.
But let the Croud, Sempronia, feebly dare
Mutter their poor Invectives in the Air;
The Slaves for Sorrow made with all their Pow'rs,
Can never touch relentless Hearts like ours;
Let them their idle Clamours still employ,
We laugh their Censure, and our Crimes enjoy.
Hast thou not heard how Fame my Actions stain'd,
How Impotently Busie she complain'd,
When I retiring from Hiberia's Sway,
Brought half the Treasure of the Land away?
Yet while the plunder'd Province spoke aloud,
Unblushing I the Glorious Crime avow'd;
I heard their Curses on my parting Sail,
But 'tis the Loser's Priviledge to rail:
Who would not Purchase such a gainful Shame,
At the poor Price of an abandon'd Fame?
Mutter their poor Invectives in the Air;
The Slaves for Sorrow made with all their Pow'rs,
Can never touch relentless Hearts like ours;
Let them their idle Clamours still employ,
We laugh their Censure, and our Crimes enjoy.
Hast thou not heard how Fame my Actions stain'd,
How Impotently Busie she complain'd,
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Brought half the Treasure of the Land away?
Yet while the plunder'd Province spoke aloud,
Unblushing I the Glorious Crime avow'd;
I heard their Curses on my parting Sail,
But 'tis the Loser's Priviledge to rail:
Who would not Purchase such a gainful Shame,
At the poor Price of an abandon'd Fame?
But why do I Sempronia's Ear detain
With what she better knows, the Arts of Gain:
Who can survey in countless Heaps of Oar,
All Nations paying Tribute to her Store;
Here see with Joy in mighty Numbers roll'd,
The dull Augusto's Face now bright in Gold;
Here pillag'd Braba's, there Hollada's Wealth,
Giv'n with Reluctance, and obtain'd by Stealth.
But Britomartia's, more than all appears,
The High-rais'd Ravages of Twenty Years:
This, This the sweetest Blessing of the whole,
Affects most nearly the Possessor's Soul.
For as no greater Transport Misers know,
Then in the Spoils, which from Relations flow;
So Publick Robbers nought more pleasing Gain,
Than what they from their ruin'd Country drain.
With what she better knows, the Arts of Gain:
Who can survey in countless Heaps of Oar,
All Nations paying Tribute to her Store;
Here see with Joy in mighty Numbers roll'd,
The dull Augusto's Face now bright in Gold;
Here pillag'd Braba's, there Hollada's Wealth,
Giv'n with Reluctance, and obtain'd by Stealth.
But Britomartia's, more than all appears,
The High-rais'd Ravages of Twenty Years:
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Affects most nearly the Possessor's Soul.
For as no greater Transport Misers know,
Then in the Spoils, which from Relations flow;
So Publick Robbers nought more pleasing Gain,
Than what they from their ruin'd Country drain.
To thee, Sempronia, I securely Write
The Secrets of my Soul, nor fear the Light:
With Joy I heard thy Female Heart elate,
Affect the Sc---er, and the Re---l State,
Thy Friend Cethegus raptur'd at that View,
Ador'd thy Greatness, and believ'd it True.
Fancy took Wing, and painted out the Scene,
My Faithful Guards stood round the mimic Q---n,
And now Serena, from our Fury fled,
And now Sachalius at the Altar bled;
There sunk Sanctorio in his Youthful Pride,
And here (O Joy!) the Curst Hortensio dy'd.
While Mitred Scotus artfully apply'd
The tortur'd Text to the prevailing side;
With spreading Hands the Pious Purpose blest,
And Heaven in Blood, and Parricide confest.
Oh! That the Scene were True, that yet my Ear,
Their dying Groans in Extacy might hear,
That I might laugh at each expiring Breath;
Sport with their Prayers, and grin upon their Death.
Vain is the Wish by working Fancy wrought,
Yet am I pleas'd,—and Murder still in Thought.
The Secrets of my Soul, nor fear the Light:
With Joy I heard thy Female Heart elate,
Affect the Sc---er, and the Re---l State,
Thy Friend Cethegus raptur'd at that View,
Ador'd thy Greatness, and believ'd it True.
Fancy took Wing, and painted out the Scene,
My Faithful Guards stood round the mimic Q---n,
And now Serena, from our Fury fled,
And now Sachalius at the Altar bled;
There sunk Sanctorio in his Youthful Pride,
And here (O Joy!) the Curst Hortensio dy'd.
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The tortur'd Text to the prevailing side;
With spreading Hands the Pious Purpose blest,
And Heaven in Blood, and Parricide confest.
Oh! That the Scene were True, that yet my Ear,
Their dying Groans in Extacy might hear,
That I might laugh at each expiring Breath;
Sport with their Prayers, and grin upon their Death.
Vain is the Wish by working Fancy wrought,
Yet am I pleas'd,—and Murder still in Thought.
Now of unequal Fate I could complain,
And Tax the Justice that forbids our Reign;
Why should the boldest most aspiring Mind,
For Noble Ills, and Glorious Guilt design'd,
Be forc'd the Pow'rs of Virtue to obey,
And Souls that shrink at Vice the Vicious Sway?
Let them, ye Pow'rs, (if ye exist at all,)
Ye Names on whom the Priests, and Vulgar call;
Let them enjoy the Pleasure they demand,
Your distant Prospects, and your Fairy Land.
But be the Braver Few, who dare defie
Your Fancied Being, and your Fabled Sky:
Be we of this, this Golden Now possest,
And freely we discharge you of the rest.
Give but Cethegus, he demands no more,
Wealth all the Day, and all the Night a W---;
Let him nor Pain, nor Sorrow know, nor Shame,
And he no better Second Wish can frame.
And Tax the Justice that forbids our Reign;
Why should the boldest most aspiring Mind,
For Noble Ills, and Glorious Guilt design'd,
Be forc'd the Pow'rs of Virtue to obey,
And Souls that shrink at Vice the Vicious Sway?
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Ye Names on whom the Priests, and Vulgar call;
Let them enjoy the Pleasure they demand,
Your distant Prospects, and your Fairy Land.
But be the Braver Few, who dare defie
Your Fancied Being, and your Fabled Sky:
Be we of this, this Golden Now possest,
And freely we discharge you of the rest.
Give but Cethegus, he demands no more,
Wealth all the Day, and all the Night a W---;
Let him nor Pain, nor Sorrow know, nor Shame,
And he no better Second Wish can frame.
There was a Time, (the Blest Sempronia said,)
Ah! Wherefore are the happy Minutes fled?
When high in Pow'r, we trampled on our Foes,
And try'd their Passive Virtue by their Woes:
Secure we stood, till,—Curses on his Grave!
Volpone's Arts arraign'd the Preaching Slave:
Shame to his Age! For what had we to fear,
Or was Religion worthy of our Care?
Had not his wily Cunning work'd so fast,
Their boasted Pageantry had fell at last;
Their Temples had in Desolation moan'd,
Their Altars fell, and all their Magi groan'd.
Ah! Wherefore are the happy Minutes fled?
When high in Pow'r, we trampled on our Foes,
And try'd their Passive Virtue by their Woes:
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Volpone's Arts arraign'd the Preaching Slave:
Shame to his Age! For what had we to fear,
Or was Religion worthy of our Care?
Had not his wily Cunning work'd so fast,
Their boasted Pageantry had fell at last;
Their Temples had in Desolation moan'd,
Their Altars fell, and all their Magi groan'd.
Yet it may be; for now by thee inspir'd,
I feel my Soul to Just Resentments fir'd;
Well dost thou bless our former Zeal, and raise
Our swelling Passions with a Female Praise;
Joyful thy Friends applaud thy great Design,
And ev'ry Hand, and ev'ry Heart is thine.
I feel my Soul to Just Resentments fir'd;
Well dost thou bless our former Zeal, and raise
Our swelling Passions with a Female Praise;
Joyful thy Friends applaud thy great Design,
And ev'ry Hand, and ev'ry Heart is thine.
The cool Sigillo, who maturely weighs
Each Embryo Mischief which the Faction lays;
Who unprovok'd, with Law and Justice strives,
And soberly his Countries Doom contrives;
Ev'n he pronounc'd thy Projects nicely wrought,
Blest the Contriver, and approv'd the Draught.
Each Embryo Mischief which the Faction lays;
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And soberly his Countries Doom contrives;
Ev'n he pronounc'd thy Projects nicely wrought,
Blest the Contriver, and approv'd the Draught.
When He beheld Sempronia's glowing Page,
How firm her Courage, and how strong her Rage,
Diego late to Faction reconcil'd,
Dismiss'd his Spanish Gravity, and smil'd;
His slow Resolves the Convert disavow'd,
And promis'd fresh Chimæra's for the Croud:
Where a New P---ce should raise the Zealot's Fire,
And Saints and Martyrs in the Blaze expire;
Another great Armada should explore
The distant Isles, and thunder on the Shore.
How firm her Courage, and how strong her Rage,
Diego late to Faction reconcil'd,
Dismiss'd his Spanish Gravity, and smil'd;
His slow Resolves the Convert disavow'd,
And promis'd fresh Chimæra's for the Croud:
Where a New P---ce should raise the Zealot's Fire,
And Saints and Martyrs in the Blaze expire;
Another great Armada should explore
The distant Isles, and thunder on the Shore.
Suffenus great in Politicks and Song,
Boasted the Mercenary Muses Throng,
Where all our Actions should appear Divine,
Our Patriots flourish, and our Heroes shine.
Boasted the Mercenary Muses Throng,
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Our Patriots flourish, and our Heroes shine.
Too well to thee is known Cethegus Heart,
In Malice nurs'd, and train'd to Factious Art,
To doubt that he will e'er forego the Cause,
E'er start at Conscience, or be aw'd by Laws.
No, sooner shall the Sons of Calvin's Race
Bow to the Mitred Head, and Rites embrace;
Sooner Galenus shall the Scripture read,
Forget the Deist, and subscribe the Creed;
Wh---es shall atone the Blood their Fathers spilt,
Or by Sempronia Hospitals be built,
Than e'er Cethegus harden'd Soul relent,
Shrink at New-Horrours, or her Old repent.
In Malice nurs'd, and train'd to Factious Art,
To doubt that he will e'er forego the Cause,
E'er start at Conscience, or be aw'd by Laws.
No, sooner shall the Sons of Calvin's Race
Bow to the Mitred Head, and Rites embrace;
Sooner Galenus shall the Scripture read,
Forget the Deist, and subscribe the Creed;
Wh---es shall atone the Blood their Fathers spilt,
Or by Sempronia Hospitals be built,
Than e'er Cethegus harden'd Soul relent,
Shrink at New-Horrours, or her Old repent.
Oh! did not washing Spirits now deny,
To arm thy Features, and to point thy Eye;
Wert thou with all those blooming Beauties grac'd,
As when Germanicus thy Youth embrac'd,
What Crime so great Cethegus would not dare,
For one stoln Rapture with the yeilding Fair?
Yet hast thou Power to move, thy falling Charms,
The latest Ev'ning of thy Beauty warms.
Pleas'd with the Bright Remains, some great Design
Heaves in my Breast to make that Beauty Mine;
Look, my Sempronia, with a kind Regard,
The Deed your Eyes inspire, when Done, reward.
To arm thy Features, and to point thy Eye;
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As when Germanicus thy Youth embrac'd,
What Crime so great Cethegus would not dare,
For one stoln Rapture with the yeilding Fair?
Yet hast thou Power to move, thy falling Charms,
The latest Ev'ning of thy Beauty warms.
Pleas'd with the Bright Remains, some great Design
Heaves in my Breast to make that Beauty Mine;
Look, my Sempronia, with a kind Regard,
The Deed your Eyes inspire, when Done, reward.
FINIS
| An epistle from Sempronia to Cethegus | |