Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Princes, my fair, unfortunately great,
Born to the pompous vassalage of state,
Whene'er the public calls, are doom'd to fly
Domestic bliss, and break the private tie.
Fame pays with empty breath the toils they bear,
And love's soft joys are chang'd for glorious care.
Yet conscious virtue, in the silent hour,
Rewards the hero with a noble dower.
For this alone I dar'd the roaring sea,
Yet more, for this I dar'd to part with thee.
But while my bosom feels the nobler flame,
Still, unreprov'd, it owns thy gentler claim.
Tho' virtue's awful form my soul approves,
'Tis thine, thine only, Zara, that it loves.
A private lot had made the claim but one,
The prince alone must love, for virtue, shun.
Ah! why, distinguish'd from the happier crowd,
To me the bliss of millions disallow'd?
Why was I singled for imperial sway,
Since love, and duty, point a different way?

Fix'd the dread voyage, and the day decreed,
When duty's victim, love, was doom'd to bleed,

Too well my memory can those scenes renew,
We met to sigh, to weep our last adieu.
That conscious palm, beneath whose towering shade
So oft our vows of mutual love were made;
Where hope so oft anticipated joy,
And plann'd of future years the blest employ;
That palm was witness to the tears we shed,
When that fond hope, and all those joys were fled.
Thy trembling lips, with trembling lips, I press'd,
And held thee panting to my panting breast.
Our sorrow, grown too mighty to sustain,
Now snatch'd us, fainting, from the sense of pain.
Together sinking in the trance divine,
I caught thy fleeting soul, and gave thee mine.
O! blest oblivion of tormenting care!
O! why recall'd to life and to despair?
The dreadful summons came, to part—and why?
Why not the kinder summons but to die?
To die together were to part no more,
To land in safety on some peaceful shore,
Where love's the business of immortal life,
And happy spirits only guess at strife.
“If in some distant land my prince should find
“Some nymph more fair, you cried, as Zara kind”—
Mysterious doubt! which could at once impart
Relief to mine, and anguish to thy heart.
Still let me triumph in the fear exprest,
The voice of love that whisper'd in thy breast;
Nor call me cruel, for my truth shall prove
'Twas but the vain anxiety of love.

Torn from thy fond embrace, the strand I gain,
Where mourning friends inflict superfluous pain;

My father there his struggling sighs supprest,
And in dumb anguish clasp'd me to his breast;
Then sought, conceal'd the conflict of his mind,
To give the fortitude he could not find;
Each life-taught precept kindly he renew'd,
“Thy country's good, said he, be still pursued!
“If, when the gracious gods my son restore,
“These eyes shall sleep in death, to wake no more;
“If then these limbs, which now in age decay,
“Shall mold'ring mix with earth's parental clay;
“Round my green tomb perform the sacred rite,
“Assume my throne, and let thy yoke be light;
“From lands of freedom glorious precepts bring,
“And reign at once a father and a king.”

How vainly proud, the arrogantly great
Presume to boast a monarch's godlike state!
Subject alike, the peasant and the king,
To life's dark ills, and care's corroding sting.
From guilt and fraud, that strike in silence sure,
No shield can guard us, and no arms secure.
By these, my fair, subdu'd, thy prince was lost,
A naked captive on a barb'rous coast!

Nurtur'd in ease, a thousand servants round
My wants prevented, and my wishes crown'd;
No painful labours stretch'd the tedious day,
On downy feet my moments danc'd away.
Whene'er I look'd, officious courtiers bow'd,
Where'er I pass'd, a shouting people croud;
No fears intruded on the joys I knew,
Each man my friend, my lovely mistress you.
What dreadful change! abandon'd and alone,
The shouted prince is now a slave unknown;

To watch his eye no bending courtiers wait,
No hailing crowds proclaim his regal state;
A slave condemn'd, with unrewarded toil,
To turn, from morn to eve, a burning soil.
Fainting beneath the sun's meridian heat,
Rouz'd by the scourge, the taunting jest I meet:
“Thanks to thy friends, they cry, whose care recalls
“A prince to life, in whom a nation falls!”
Unwholsome scraps my strength but half sustain'd,
From corners glean'd, and even by dogs disdain'd;
At night I mingled with a wretched crew,
Who by long use with woe familiar grew;
Of manners brutish, merciless and rude,
They mock'd my sufferings, and my pangs renew'd;
In groans, not sleep, I pass'd the weary night,
And rose to labour with the morning light.

Yet, thus of dignity and ease beguil'd,
Thus scorn'd and scourg'd, insulted and revil'd,
If heav'n with thee my faithful arms had blest,
And fill'd with love my intervals of rest,
Short tho' they were, my soul had never known
One secret wish to glitter on a throne;
The toilsome day had heard no sigh of mine,
Nor stripes, nor scorn, had urg'd me to repine.
A monarch still, beyond a monarch blest,
Thy love my diadem, my throne thy breast;
My courtiers, watchful of my looks, thy eyes,
Should shine, persuade, and flatter, and advise;
Thy voice my music, and thy arms should be—
Ah! not the prison of a slave in me!
Could I with infamy content remain,
And wish thy lovely form to share my chain?

Could this bring ease? forgive th' unworthy thought,
And let the love, that sinn'd, atone the fault.
Could I, a slave, and hopeless to be free,
Crawl, tamely, recent from the scourge, to thee?
Thy blooming beauties could these arms embrace?
My guilty joys enslave an infant race?
No: rather blast me lightnings, whirlwinds tear,
And drive these limbs in atoms thro' the air;
Rather than this, O! curse me still with life,
And let my Zara smile a rival's wife:
Be mine alone th' accumulated woe,
Nor let me propagate my curse below.

But, from this dreadful scene, with joy, I turn;
To trust in heaven, of me, let Zara learn.
The wretch, the sordid hypocrite, who sold
His charge, an unsuspecting prince, for gold,
That justice mark'd, whose eyes can never sleep,
And death, commission'd, smote him on the deep.
The gen'rous crew their port in safety gain,
And tell my mournful tale, nor tell in vain;
The king, with horror of th' atrocious deed,
In haste commanded, and the slave was freed.
No more Britannia's cheek the blush of shame
Burns for my wrongs, her king restores her fame:
Propitious gales, to freedom's happy shore,
Waft me triumphant, and the prince restore;
Whate'er is great and gay around me shine,
And all the splendor of a court is mine.
Here knowledge too, by piety refin'd,
Sheds a blest radiance o'er my bright'ning mind;
From earth I travel upward to the sky,
I learn to live, to reign, yet more, to die.

O! I have tales to tell, of love divine—
Such blissful tidings! they shall soon be thine.
I long to tell thee, what, amaz'd, I see,
What habits, buildings, trades, and polity;
How art and nature vie to entertain,
In public shows, and mix delight with pain.
O! Zara, here, a story like my own,
With mimic skill, in borrow'd names, was shown;
An Indian chief, like me, by fraud betray'd,
And, partner in his woes, an Indian maid.
I can't recall the scene, 'tis pain too great,
And, if recall'd, should shudder to relate.

To write the wonders here, I strive in vain;
Each word would ask a thousand to explain.
The time shall come, O! speed the ling'ring hour!
When Zara's charms shall lend description power;
When plac'd beside thee, in the cool alcove,
Or thro' the green Savannahs as we rove,
The frequent kiss shall interrupt the tale,
And looks shall speak my sense, tho' language fail.
Then shall the prodigies, that round me rise,
Fill thy dear bosom with a sweet surprize;
Then all my knowledge, to thy faithful heart,
With danger gain'd, securely I'll impart.
Methinks I see thy charming looks express
Th' alternate sense of pleasure and distress;
As all the windings of my fate I trace,
And wing thy fancy swift from place to place.

Yet where, alas! has flatt'ring thoughts convey'd
The ravish'd lover, with his darling maid?
Between us, still, unmeasur'd oceans roll,
Which hostile barks infest, and storms controul.
Be calm my bosom, since th' unmeasur'd main,
And hostile barks, and storms, are God's domain:
He rules resistless, and his power shall guide
My life in safety o'er the roaring tide;
Shall bless the love, that's built on virtue's base,
And spare me to evangelize my race.
Farewell! thy prince still lives, and still is free:
Farewell! hope all things; and remember me.

He alludes to the play of Oroonoko, at which he was present, and so affected as to be unable to continue, during its performance, in the house.