Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Where York with pride her beauties, turret-crown'd,
Reflected views from Ouse's glassy stream,
Liv'd there a king, in ancient song renown'd,
Ebor yclep'd—fair Virtue's darling theme,
E'er haughty Rome, Freedom's detested bane,
Had o'er the prostrate world impos'd her galling chain.

First of the Fair that grac'd the courtly ring
Fair Oza shone, of every charm possest;
Gentle of soul, and lovely as the spring
When opening to the view; but in her breast
Love had a hopeless flame illum'd—which, veil'd
By Virgin Modesty, all wasteful lay conceal'd.

In soul a hero, yet with bosom fram'd
Of softest Mold, the Royal Ebor shone,
For every kingly grace and virtue fam'd,
Within each willing heart he rais'd his throne;
Nor wonder Oza's feeling pulse shou'd beat
For one, whom heaven's kind care had render'd all compleat.

To hunt the tushed Boar, the javelin send
With winged vengeance to the monster's heart,
His chief delight;—whilst thronging courtiers tend
In their lov'd Sov'reign's pleasures to take part:—
Foremost amid the throng appear'd the maid;
Ebor's each word and look sweet manna to her soul convey'd.

The post of Danger still was Ebor's view;—
Out rush'd a monster of the largest size,
To where fair Oza was he eager flew,—
Oza unhors'd—Death snatches at his prize;
When Ebor, quick as lightning aim'd the blow,
And with his saving arm transfix'd the monster low.

Unhappy Oza! more unhappy made
By Gratitude, now adding flame to fire;
Love singly had undone the ill-starr'd maid,
To Gratitude conjoin'd, it blaz'd still higher:
What can she do?—Urg'd by Despair and Love,
She flies for shelter to the hermit grove.

But when she heard that Palma's envied charms
(Palma, bright princess of Iern's domain)
Had Ebor circled in her wedded arms,
Madness enfever'd her unsettled brain;
Such tidings, to a soul like hers, must raise,
What erst was smother'd fire to a resistless blaze.

Dight in fantastic flow'rs thro' mead and grove,
Singing love ditties, devious would she stray;
Or mock the cooings of the turtle-dove,
Or with her sister lambkins harmless play:
Sometimes, close bosom'd by the circling wood,
Her eyes down-fix'd, a speechless statue stood.

Her vest unzon'd, her tresses all unbound,
On Ebor's dear lov'd-name she oft would call,
Whilst envious Echo mock'd the pleasing sound,
And sigh'd for Ebor from her airy hall;—

Poor Oza paints a rival in her mind,
And flies, but flies in vain, the rival Fair to find.

Upon the river's bank with cowslips spread,
Beneath a willow—Ebor all her theme,
She chanc'd, with wand'ring tir'd, to rest her head,
Her eager looks bent on the passing stream,
There as she lay reclin'd, wild Fancy drew,
Rising from forth the flood her Ebor full in view.

“See, see my Ebor smiles—he wafts me o'er,
“Drest like a bridegroom, to receive my hand”;
She said—and plung'd from off the flow'ry shore,—
“My Ebor stay—I soon shall reach the land:”
The amorous Tide encloses round the Fair,
And her soul upwards bubbling, mixes with the air.

Oft as the westward sun saw—arm in arm,
The Royal Lovers by the stream appear;
A thousand rising thoughts wou'd instant swarm,
And from their bosoms steal the kindly tear;
And public pity in remembrance gave
The hapless Virgin's name to her pellucid grave.

The River, formerly Oza; now call'd Ouse.