The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer

modernis'd by several hands. Publsh'd by Mr. Oggle

Ogle, George (1704-1746)

VOL. I.

II.

VOL. II.

PROLOGUE TO THE COOK's TALE.

GAMELYN:

PROLOGUE, TO THE Man of Law's TALE.

CONSTANTIA:

PROLOGUE TO The Squire's TALE.

CAMBUSCAN:

III.

VOL. III.

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II. VOL. II.

PROLOGUE TO THE COOK's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Close, by the Reve, the Cook of London rides,
And claps Him on the Back, and bursts his Sides.
“Passion of Christ! (He cry'd, with Laughter fraught
“Sir Reve, You ended with a hum'rous Thought)
“Was e'er so justly handled in the Dark,
“Felonious Miller by lascivious Clark?
“Well was it said, by Hermit in his Cave,
“Notorious Knave will catch notorious Knave.
“And slip'ry Hands They have, the Truth to tell,
“Who grind the Meal, or study in the Cell.

“But for the Argument of Board and Bed,
“Much, wou'd the Time permit, might here be said.

“Make This, says Solomon, your standing Rule,
“(And Solomon, You know, was far from Fool)
“'Tis perilous Trust to harbour Man by Night,
“He may be Foe or Friend, unknown of Sight;
“But Folly to receive Him as a Friend,
“Who, if a Foe, thy Ruin may intend!
“Yet, sure as I was christen'd Hodge of Ware,
“Or be my Life one Scene of Toil and Care,
“Never was yet a Match more equal found;
“Than These, that came to grind, and Those that ground.

“But Heav'n forbid, that here the Sport should stand;
“No, rather be it thrown from Hand to Hand.
“And tho' not overus'd, to write, or read,
“My Tale perhaps may pass, if not succeed;
“As Bad, in want of Better, may go down:
“For, tho' no Scholar, yet I know the Town.”

‘Roger (reply'd our Host) thy Tale recite,
‘I sign the Grant. But see, thy Tale be right;
‘The Turn divertive, or the Moral good.
‘Of many a Pasty hast Thou drawn the Blood;

‘And many a Jack of Dover hast Thou sold,
‘For fresh, tho' twice 'twas hot, and twice 'twas cold;
‘Disguis'd in Sawce, that none knew what to call,
‘Confounding Sow'r and Sweet, the Devil and All:
‘Of which when hungry Pilgrim fares the worse,
‘He growls, and sends Thee many a holy Curse,
‘Blasphemes thy Stubble Goose, with Parsley stor'd,
‘And ev'ry Fly that taints thy Larder Board.
‘But, Hodge of Ware, I call Thee by thy Name,
‘In Serious take not, what is said in Game.
‘We border near in Trade; excuse the Jest:
‘I only mean to rouse You to your Best.’

“Right, by my Faith, quoth Roger, what You say;
“In Play admit what You advance in Play.
“This is the only Rule for Converse fit;
“Yet Who so touchy as a flashy Wit?
“Backward, to bear! As, forward, to provoke!
“Who gives a Joke, 'tis True, should take a Joke.
“And therefore, Harry Ballie, blith of Heart!
“I mean to state Accounts before We part.

“Nor You with Choler boil, nor Anger burn,
“If, to an Inn, the Scene of Laughter turn;
“There shou'd I treat You with a goodly Host,
“Put down, in Payment due, a Cook to roast.
“All Functions have their Good and Bad, believe!
“Whate'er may judge the Miller or the Reve;
“And tho', or yours, or mine produc'd a Rook,
“What is't to You, mine Host! or Me, your Cook?
“Unless the like of Us our Neighbors say,
“For that's the Test of Man, or Priest, or Lay.

“But lest it shou'd be thought, I mean to rail,
“Or fret, like Oswalde; I defer the Tale.
“Nay, to mine Host, who seems full well inclin'd,
“Will sketch a Story to his Hand and Mind.
“The Flow'r of Cooks, young Perkin, let Him take,
“Whose Christian Name was lost in That of Rake.
“And, tho' our Office scarce requires a Beau,
“This Lad was all for Vanity and Show!
“Chearful, He was, as Gold-finch in a Grove;
“Of Jollity, as full! As full, of Love!

“His Size, was proper! his Complexion, brown!
“And round and red his Lips, and soft as Down!
“Black was his Hair, thick furnishing his Head;
“And neatly drest, the Length his Shoulders spred!
“Well cou'd He tune his Voice, and turn his Feet;
“As Hive of Honey, He of Sport repleat!
“At ev'ry Marriage, First to lead the Hop;
“And more He lov'd the Tavern than the Shop.
“March'd but the City-bands along the Cheap,
“From off the Counter lightly wou'd He leap.
“Drawn by the Martial Sound, and Warlike Sight;
“And ne'er return'd till Morn, at least till Night!
“Then would He gather from the idle Throng,
“Some for the Dance, and Others for the Song;
“Provide for Cards, or Bowls, to Drink, or Eat,
“Here, There, at such a Sign, in such a Street!
“But, for a Throw at Dice, from Tow'r to Strand,
“There was not 'Prentice with a readier Hand.
“Hence oft He pilfer'd, to support his Play,
“And, all He pilfer'd, squander'd Day by Day.

“This felt his Master to his Loss and Care,
“Who found full many a Time his Box full bare;
“For Lads that love a Glass, or throw a Main,
“That keep a Mistress, or a Horse maintain,
“Make from the Leaky Drill the Cash to flow,
“So sinks the Stock, and runs the Credit low.
“Like Feats, too oft, are ev'n by Masters play'd,
“And then They growl severe on failing Trade.
“But 'tis the Devil in Hell, (to speak sincere)
“To pay for Musick, which You never hear.

“This Youth, for six long Years, his Master bore,
“And chided oft for Lavishing his Store;
“Late when He left, or early sought, his Bed;
“Yet still the same vile Course young Perkin led.
“Seiz'd has He been, by unrelenting Bum,
“The Master has redeem'd Him for the Sum;
“Seiz'd by the Watch, to Newgate has been sent;
“To bail Him, for the Broil, the Master went.
“Less tractable He grew for Usage Civil;
“Such Usage, as might half reform the Devil!

“With this Obdurance, was his Patience tir'd;
“Who thus dismiss'd Him, e'er the Term expir'd.
“Industrious what I save, You wasteful spend;
“I took You as the Orphan of my Friend.
“To Me He show'd the same Paternal Care;
“Single I am, and meant You for my Heir.
“But mighty Young are You, yet mighty Wise,
“Nor must You be advis'd, yet will advise;
“But Better from the Heap the Tainted throw,
“Than keep, till all decay'd the Remnant grow.
“So may I live in Plenty, and in Peace,
“As here be thy Indenture and Release;
“Pass, with a Curse, lest You corrupt the Rest,
“And not one Single Servant stand the Test.
“All that I gave Thee, with Thee take away!
“And yet—reform to Good, and You may stay.

“To Good not turn'd, He follows his Delight,
“And revels at his Will from Morn to Night;
“His little Substance to a Com'rade sends
“For Vice, like Virtue, is the Tye of Friends!

“One that had us'd the same ill Course of Life,
“With this Addition blest, an handsome Wife!
“Who kept a Shop, for Fear what Folks might say,
“But kept Herself a much genteeler Way!

“I leave it to mine Host, what Quarrel wrought
“Their high Dislike, and How, and Where they fought;
“Whence One to Prison was condemn'd for Strife,
“And One for Murder forfeited his Life.
“Let Him convey this Document to Youth,
“Your sole Delight, be Virtue and be Truth!
“For want of This, has many a Squire, well-bred,
“Been forc'd to list for Pay, or beg for Bread;
“Indue'd with This, for all his sordid Race,
“Has many a Wretch, low-born, rose First in Place.

“Suffice it to have giv'n mine Host his Cue,
“And where the Game is left, let Him pursue;
“But first, with Me, to Woodland Wilds resort,
“Young Gamelyn there shall yield us nobler Sport”
Laughing, He paus'd—nor by our Host control'd,
His Tale, as You may hear, in Order told.

End of the Prologue.

GAMELYN:

OR, The COOK's TALE.

By Mr. BOYSE.

How constant Valour triumphs o'er its Foes,
And the firm Mind beneath Oppression grows,
I sing—Ye whom heroic Deeds delight,
Attend the Tale, and mark what I recite.

'Twas in victorious Edward's happy Days,
When Britain's Glory shed distinguish'd Rays!
Where thro' the verdant Groves and level Meads,
His silver Course the gentle Medway leads;
Too feeble now for Arms,—his Helm unbrac'd,
His calm Retreat a worthy Knight had plac'd:
In youthful Years no Stranger he to Fame,
Sir John of Bondis was the Warrior's Name;

From vanquish'd Gaul, and Cressy's sanguine Field,
He bore new Honours o'er his trophy'd Shield:
But Time had cool'd the Ardours in his Breast,
And Action taught him all the Worth of Rest;
Yet often at the hospitable Board,
By Cheerfulness maintain'd, with Plenty stor'd,
To speak of former Toils he took Delight,
To paint the Combat, and renew the Fight!
Close by the winding Stream his Castle stood,
It's Turrets glitter'd o'er the glassy Flood;
Here liv'd the honour'd Knight in decent State,
Peace watch'd the Walls, & Welcome kept the Gate.

His Consort lost, a widowed Life he led,
Three manly Sons had crown'd his nuptial Bed;
The eldest far unlike the generous Knight,
A rough, suspicious, base, uncourteous Wight:
To all ungentle, to his Father most,
His Age he slighted, and his Love he lost:
The younger two were of a milder Kind,
And bore their Sire's Impression on the Mind.

Long the respected Knight enjoy'd Repose,
Till Life's low Shade projected to a Close;
Soft tho' the Fall, and gentle the Decay,
Death is a Struggle still in Nature's Way;
But Arms had so familiariz'd his Face,
He met his Terror with a decent Grace;
Careful his House's Welfare to provide,
The Measure of his fair Estates he ey'd;
Study'd the separate Share to each should fall,
And found his Wealth sufficient for them all.

His Servants call'd; his last Request he draws,
Summons his Friends, judicious in the Laws;
His Case recites, how low near Death he lies,
Begs them to haste, and aid his last Devise;
With friendly Counsel his Intent supply,
And leave Affairs well order'd e'er he die.

Soon as the Tydings spread, the mournful Train
Crowd to the Hall, and sighing view the Scene.
Around his Bed the sad Attendance stands,
Comforts his Griefs, and waits his last Commands;

His Brow still placid, tho' his Accent weak,
He lifts his trembling Hand, and tries to speak.

“I feel, my Friends, the universal Doom,
“My Course is ended, and my Hour is come.
“The destin'd Hour, which none are giv'n to pass,
“Time shakes the ebbing Sands, and turns my glass.
(With that he sigh'd, his rev'rend Head he shook,
Tears melted from the Audience as he spoke)
They bid him cheer, nor be so deep dismay'd,
Sick as he was, yet Heav'n might send him Aid;
Raise Health from Fate, from Pain recover Ease,
And lengthen Life for yet succeeding Days.

“I know it well, the dying Knight reply'd,
“Heaven's Will is fix'd, and must not be deny'd;
“But Age from me forbids a Hope so vain,
“Nor wish I Life at the Expence of Pain.
“One Thought alone does all my Cares encrease
“On Terms secure to found my Children's Peace;
“You then, my Friends, whose sage Discretion knows,
“Suits to prevent, and Interests to compose,

“Amongst my Sons a fair Division make,
“My Wealth, my Fortune to your Wisdom take;
“For Heav'ns high Sake, take care of partial wrong,
“Nor slight my Gamelyn because he's young.
“Fond in my Heart he claims an equal Share,
“My just Affection points him equal Heir;
“Wretched the Brothers, who on one depend;
“Pow'r breaks the Ties of Kindred and of Friend.
“And oft the younger Martlet's forc'd to roam,
“To search that Rest he fails to find at home.

So ends the Knight, and in the Sages go,
Justice oft yields when Interest is the Foe.
A rising Sun the general Worship draws,
And well the Proverb speaks, New Lords new Laws;
Fear bid them not the wayward Squire provoke,
His Temper known they dread his future Stroke;
Love strikes the Heart, as Harmony the Ear,
The Taste alone that's delicate can hear;
But Tyrant Terror gives a stronger Sound,
And spreads an universal Panick round;

So half by Interest sway'd, and half by Fright,
They cross the honest Purpose of the Knight;
The large Succession to the first design,
To Otto next a small Remain assign,
And leave young Gamelyn without a Care,
To wait his Fortune from the potent Heir,
Who had, if he deserv'd, enough to spare.

Deciding thus, back to the Knight they speed,
Who waited what their Judgment had decreed;
Inform him, thay had acted his Commands,
And in the wisest Way dispos'd his Lands.
Vex'd as he heard, he often shook his Head,
And much displeas'd—at last broke out and said.

“Is this the Faith my confidence attends?
“And is it thus ye act the Part of Friends?
“By good Saint Martyn, but ye deal it fine!
“Yet do I live,—and still my Land is mine.
“Then witness Neighbours to my latest Will,
“Thus I ordain, so Heav'n my wish fulfil!

“Five Ploughs of Land my eldest I assign,
“The antient Seat of our paternal Line!
“To Otto I bequeath as many more,
“My Toils have added to our native Store:
“Of all my other Lands and Chattels fair,
“Of all my Steeds be Gamelyn the Heir!
“Impartial Justice gives this Law to bind,
“And Kent was ever true to Gavel-kind.
“This is my only Will, my last Command;
“Attest it Heav'n! and let no other stand!

The Knight, his last Intentions thus exprest,
Resign'd attended hastening Death's Arrest.
Soon came the Stroke, the Spirit passed away,
And the cold Warrior stiffen'd into Clay!

Now in his Tomb with decent Honours laid,
And all the Rites of due Interment paid;
Sir John, the empty Image of his Name,
A stranger to his Virtues, or his Fame!
His Fathers solemn Charge forgetful breaks,
With lawless grasp the wide Succession takes.

Then Gamelyn first divested of his Right,
Bore all the Vengeance of Fraternal Spite.
The Youth before who only Pleasure knew,
Who rose the Darling of a Father's View,
The sad Reverse of former Ease beheld,
With hardships practis'd, and with Frowns repeld;
Fed with the menial Train, and cloth'd yet worse,
And all he got, attended with a Curse.
Usage at last with ample Interest paid,
On the unnatr'al Giver's churlish Head!

Yet spite of all, young Gamelyn's gentle Art
Gain'd over every Vassal to his Part;
Such open Goodness dwelt around his Face,
His Actions bore such Marks of manly Grace!
They griev'd in Sloth to see such Virtue lost,
Each strove with eager Zeal to serve him most;
By each ador'd—but when the Knight was near,
They durst not show their Sentiments for Fear.

It chanc'd one Morn, involv'd in studious Mood,
Within the Spacious Court the Stripling stood:

He strok'd his Chin, whose early down began,
To rise and tell him, what became a Man;
His Eyes he threw along the Wood-land Coast,
And sigh'd to think the Heritage he lost:
His Lands he saw untill'd, his Parks unpal'd,
His Game was wasted, and his Woods were fell'd:
No Steed to call his own,—a generous Shame
Rose in his Breast and mounted to a Flame!
“Had he been cheated of his Right so long?
“And was he tamely still to bear the Wrong?
“Honour reproach'd him for a Thought so low,
“And threatning Justice set upon his Brow!”
Just from the Field return'd his Brother in,
With haughty Aspect, and assuming Mien;
“Go Idler! haste, he cry'd, and bring us Word,
“What Cheer to Day,—or have they spread the Board?
“Brother, the Youth replies, walk in and look.
“I neither am thy Butler, nor thy Cook!”
“What mutter'st thou? the Knight in Fury cry'd,
“Whence hast thou catch'd this Spark of upstart Pride?

“Thou never durst a Speech like this before,
“Go know thy self, and dread the Hand of Pow'r!”

“Brother, said Gamelyn, my Answer take,
“Myself I know, and from that Knowledge speak;
“But honest Minds a servile Yoke disdain,
“And honest Tongues will call Oppression mean!
“Think'st thou those Lands that lye before my View,
“My Birth-right seiz'd, unjustly seiz'd by you,
“Yon Fields unfallow'd, and yon Houses void,
“My Deer unharbour'd from those Woods destroy'd;
“My Coursers in your slavish Toil employ'd,
“Think'st thou that those for no Resentment call?
“Or think, if just, where that should greatly fall?
“All that my Father left is gone to wreck,
“So take my Curse, and wear it on thy Back.

At this Reproach all Patience left the Knight,
His Eye-balls kindled, and his Cheeks grew white.
“Hence Vagabond, he cries, and thank my Love,
“Thy Rashness does no worse Correction prove;

“What pratest thou of Lands, and Houses thine?
“Mine the Possession is,—the Right is mine:
“Furnish'd with simple Food and plain Attire,
“Rest well content,—What more canst thou desire?

To whom the Youth “False Knight, be thine: the Shame,
“Thou Wretch unworthy of a Brother's Name;
“A Vagabond!—Go boast thee of the Style,
“Whose social Titles sordid Thoughts defile:
“If thy Injustice has my Fall pursu'd,
“Am I from thence an Alien to thy Blood?
“To the same Source we owe our vital Fire,
“A Lady bore us, and a Knight our Sire!
“Usurper cease! thy lawless Claim resign!
“Give me, what Love paternal destin'd mine,
“All future Kindred willing I forego,
“All Bands disclaim,—I scorn to be thy Foe.
Then rag'd, Sir John, but half his Rage suppress'd!
Fear stopp'd his Voice, and chill'd his conscious Breast,
Trembling his scatter'd Servants round he calls;
The wish'd Assistance issues from the Walls:

With that returning, all his Wrath returns;
And so supplied, his borrow'd Courage burns,
“Go bind, he cries, Go bind this shallow Boy,
“Immur'd his Tongue may learn a just Employ;
“So due Chastisement quickly mends the Young,
“So shall this Sterling chant another Song!

Then Gamelyn thus,—“Thou Tyrant! base of Heart!
Who can reply to thy degenerate Part?
“What, of a Stripling is a Knight afraid?
“But dastard Minds grow insolent with Aid;
“In Innocence, unarm'd, secure I stand,
“And brave the coward Malice of thy Hand;
“Provoke the Fight, thy empty Boastings throw,
“Cursed be he, that keeps thee from my Blow!”

At this the Caitiff shrunk with new Alarms,
And call'd the rude Militia out to Arms;
The ready Weapons, Pitchforks, Poles afford,
Sneering they march to save their fearful Lord;
The manly Youth well pleas'd the Storm survey'd,
On a strong Staff his Hands he quickly laid;

Then like a prudent General look'd around,
Stept to a Wall, and seiz'd th' advantage Ground;
He mark'd the aukward Rout as on they press'd,
Affection most detain'd, and Fear the rest;
Encourag'd thus he made a forward Pace,
And saw Confusion rise in every Face!
Some gentle Strokes apply'd with skillful Hand,
Forc'd all the rude Battalion to disband;
To Stables some, and some to Barns retreat,
Others more hasty sought the Postern Gate;
But safest in the Van the General fled,
And in a Hay-loft screen'd his valiant Head:
When Gamelyn, now who saw the Field his own,
Address'd the Fugitive in scornful Tone!

“And is it thus, good Knight, you value Fame?
“Thus is it you assert your Father's Name?
“For Flight so ready, yet so prone to Strife,
“Nor less the Hopes of your inglorious Life!
(At this as round he look'd the Knight he spy'd
Who at a narrow Chink his Face apply'd)

“Bondis come down, and fetch thy mighty Blade!
“Art thou a Knight, and dar'st thou be afraid?
“A Novice I, yet would I fain discern,
“What thou can'st practise, or what I may learn.

“By good Saint Richard, said th' astonish'd Knight,
“I did not guess you were so keen at Fight;
“But while you brandish that accursed Stake,
“Nor will I venture down, nor Parlance make;
“Thy Weapon quit, I give the Contest o'er,
“And here I vow to injure thee no more!

“How soon I ween you change, reply'd the Squire,
“Aggressor first, you first the Peace require;
“Thanks to my Staff that kept your Clowns away,
“Else might my Bones have suffer'd from the Play.

“No, Gamelyn dear, reply'd the treacherous Knight,
“By good Saint Richard, you mistook me quite;
“Your mounting Spirits took too soon th' Alarm,
“Be witness Heav'n, I never meant you Harm!
“To try your early Worth was my Design,
“Who durst so young th' unequal Combat join;

“Now known with Joy thy Courage I embrace,
“And own thee worthy of our noble Race!

With a Confession pleas'd he thought sincere,
The honest Youth resum'd his wonted Air;
“Descend, Sir Knight, securely, safe descend,
“Here cease our Quarrel, all Divisions end!
“Grant me one sole Request, my humble Boon,
“And good Agreement shall unite us soon.

Down came the Knight, but trembling look'd around,
And saw the dreaded Weapon on the Ground;
But Smiles conceal'd the Rancour of his Breast,
“Brother, says he, impart your fair Request;
“If I deny you ought, your Wishes claim,
“Your's be the Credit, and be mine the Shame!

I take your Word, the Youth sincere replies,
Justice I ask, in you, the Justice lies;
Decline the stronger Plea of wresting Pow'r,
My Father's Heritage entire restore;
So shall thy Honour make its Promise good,
So shall we live in Peace,—as Brothers shou'd.

“Agreed, resum'd Sir John and gave his Hand,
“Thy Lands be thine, I grant thy full Demand!
“When e'er thy Youth the Date of Manhood gains
“I yeild thee all, our Father's Will ordains;
“If further Favours then thy Wishes crave,
“As freely share the fair Demains I have;
“Till then thy Fields manur'd shall feel my care,
“They Parks inclos'd, thy Houses find Repair”.

So spoke the Traitor with dissembling Art,
What to perform was never in his Heart;
With secret Fraud his wicked Flattry fraught,
And dark Revenge lay lurking in his Thought.
Not Gamelyn so, his Bosom knew no Guile,
He kiss'd his Judas Brother with a Smile;
Where feigned Kindness spoke him well content,
So reconcil'd together in they went.

The Story spread soon grew the Village Theme
And the fond Neighbours dwelt on Gamelyn's Name;
But he regardless pass'd the Action by,
For Clowns were not the Foes he wish'd to try;

Oft thro' the Hall as silently he pass'd,
And on the trophy'd Walls Attention cast;
His Father's Arms, the Banner high display'd,
The crested Helmet, and the massy Blade!
A Sigh the Biass of his Soul confess'd,
And all the Warrior glow'd within his Breast;
The Rage of Battle glitter'd in his Sight,
His Heart beat high, and panted for the Fight!

Nor vain his Hope to prove the martial Flame,
Nor wish'd he long, till kind Occasion came;
The Swains who to the Castle held Resort,
The Tidings brought and swell'd the fond Report;
How near the Kentish Wild for Wrestlers fam'd,
That Day a famous Contest was proclaim'd,
Where a huge Ram of more than common Size,
And Ring of Gold were set the Victor's Prize;
They tell from all around what Numbers speed,
How many Rivals go to seek the Meed;
But chief a Flemish Champion's Praise they sound,
Whose Vigour in repeated Trials found,

Whose sinew'd Limbs experienc'd Action show,
And make Contenders dread so fierce a Foe!

Enough was said, nor needed Gamelyn more,
To raise that Passion glow'd so warm before;
With eager Ears he drinks the pleasing Tale,
Resolv'd to try his Fortune on the Dale.

Immediate to his Brother's Sight he press'd,
And thus he vents th' Impatience in his Breast;
“A Journey must I speed, Sir John, this Night,
“A Horse I want, a Courser fleet and light;
“Of all thy numerous Steeds I seek but one,
“Nor wave my Suit, I languish to be gone;
“To Minds, that early Thirst of Honour sways,
“Time backward rolls, and Moments seem Delays.

To whom the artful Knight with feigning Voice.
“My Steeds are at thy Will, and wait thy Choice;
“But tell me whence Requests so earnest flow,
“And whither would my gentle Brother go?

“In Words as brief, the smiling Youth reply'd,
“A Wrestling near is kept, and there I ride;

“Thither in Crowds th' assembling Youth convene,
“I mean to try the Hazard of the Green;
“Success, perhaps, may crown my first Essay,
“My Arm, perhaps, may bear the Prize away;
“Go, said the Knight, right may your Wishes fall,
“And your first Spoils adorn our ancient Hall!

The Order giv'n,—the lively Youth descends,
Where at the Gate the harnest Steed attends;
Fast on his Feet the shining Spurs he makes,
Light in his Hand, a slender Wand he shakes!
A conscious Pleasure sparkles in his Eye;
He look'd like Hermes, just prepar'd to fly!
The Courser mounts, and agile as the Wind,
Soon leaves the lessening Tow'rs obscur'd behind;
A single Servant scarce his Flight can trace,
And reach'd him late, upon the destin'd Place.
The jealous Brother pleas'd his parting view'd,
And with dark Envy his Design pursu'd;
“Go, shallow Boy, he mutter'd, tempt thy Fate,
“And find a Period equal to my Hate;

“Disgrac'd and trampled by some Foot obscene,
“Perish thy breathless Carcase on the Plain.
Then to the Hall return'd in Discontent,
Yet oft look'd back, and secret Curses sent.
So thought the Wretch,—but Heav'n refus'd the Pray'r,
And all his impious Vows were lost in Air.

But distant now, a-cross the heathy Waste,
The little Hero to the Contest past;
And now the smoaking Village rose to view,
And now he nearer heard the shouting Crew!
Yet more distinct appears the opening Scene,
The spacious Circle and the crowded Green.
Nimbly he whirls the panting Courser round,
Springs from the Seat, and treads the envied Ground.

Attentive round him as he newly gaz'd,
A neighb'ring Object all his Pity rais'd;
An aged Yeoman, decent was his Dress,
Whose strong Emotion deepest Sighs express;
Fast o'er his Cheeks the briny Currents spread,
While to the Ground he bent his mournful Head;

Fix'd in a Lethargy of Grief he stands,
Oft lifts his weeping Eyes, and wrings his Hands;
Compassion glow'd in Gamelyn's gentle Mind,
The venerable Man's Distress to find;
“Forgive, he said, good Man, whose silver Hairs,
“Should claim Exemption from such piercing Cares,
“Forgive the friendly Motive guides my Tongue,
“To aid your Anguish, or redress your Wrong;
“For this I ask, nor then refuse to tell,
“What speechless Griefs thy warring Bosom swell?
“Cloud o'er the Brows, and round thy Visage roll,
“And speak the Tempest rising in thy Soul?

To whom the Farmer thus in broken Strain,
“Vain is thy Help, kind Youth, thy Pity vain!
“No Hand can sooth the Sorrows I endure,
“Nor Time can mitigate, nor Comfort cure:
“Canst thou restore the Dead? The Storm asswage?
“Or bind the Pinions of revolving Age?
“Then might I hope from thee to find Relief,
“Then might one Beam of Ease allay my Grief!

“But Nature sinks beneath the fatal Blow,
“And future Life is but imbitter'd Woe!
“Two Sons I had, the Honour of the Plain,
“Two Sons deserving of the Name of Men,
“Two Sons this happy Morning hail'd me gay,
“Dress'd in the lusty Prime of youthful May!
“Who now, ere Noon united press the Strand,
“Slain by th' accursed Fleming's deadly Hand;
“Detested Terror! could my Eyes but see,
“Their Tears repaid in Vengeance due to thee!
“Oh! would some Arm well practis'd to the Toil,
“Stretch thee all pale and fractur'd on the Soil!
“The destin'd Hero should my Wealth receive,
“And my bald Head contented reach the Grave.

He spoke,—and faint as Gamelyn's Form he ey'd,
Admir'd his Mein, while thus the Youth reply'd,
“If Wrongs like thine a just Relief engage,
“I take thy Cause, my Honour be thy Gage.
“Justice herself shall lend her fav'ring Scale,
“And bid my Purpose for thy sake prevail!

“But while my Man prepares me for the Field,
“My Horse to thee committed, safe I yield;
“Then mean I bold this Champion to defy,
“And right thy Cause, or in the Quarrel die.

“A thousand Blessings crown thy generous Heart
“The Yeoman said, Brave Youth, whoe'er thou art.
“Whose Soul by noble Emulation fir'd,
“By Worth incited, or by Heaven inspir'd,
“For my sad Loss such kind Concern canst show,
“And dare to grapple with so fierce a Foe:
“Thy Steed to me, a willing Charge assign,
“To aid you for the Field the care be mine.
“Revenge alone can stop my bleeding Eyes;
“Yours be the Glory, and be yours the Prize.

The Youth they strip, his snowy Limbs unfold,
Whose tender Arms unwonted Vigour hold;
The chesnut Ringlets fall his Neck a-down,
His Neck that gave new Lustre to their Brown;
Bare was his Foot, his ardent Breast reveal'd,
The rest a Wreath of spotless white conceal'd;

So thro' the Throng he pass'd with noble Grace,
Enter'd the List, and rose upon the Place.

Conspicuous now, as many knew his Name,
A circling Whisper told his early Fame;
All wonder'd how a Youth so softly young,
Should dare a Champion so confirm'd and strong!
Incens'd, a Foreign Arm should awe the Field,
And make the Stoutest of their Natives yield;
Conspiring Vows the generous Stripling wait,
Conspiring Fears are felt for his Defeat.
But chief the Youth the scornful Victor ey'd,
And found the Match unequal to his Pride.
Starting he fiercely stalk'd along the Plain,
And thus presuming spoke—in jeering Strain.

“Whence come this Infant?—or to whom belong?
“Whose gentle Mien proclaims him nicely sprung!
“Say, Child, thy Sire? or by what Folly led,
“Hither thou camest? to softer Labours bred?
“Return, nice Stripling, free from threaten'd harm,
“Thy Fall would but disgrace my practis'd Arm!

Then Gamelyn thus—“Insulting Boaster take,
“In breif the Answer which I deign to make;
“My Father's honour'd Name, while Life he drew,
“Well known to Gallia, well is known to you;
“Sir John of Bondis well in Battle known,
“From him I spring—and am his youngest Son:
“Gamelyn my Name—the rest let Tryal say,
“I come to take the hazard of the Day.

So spoke the blooming Youth with manly Pride,
The kindling Foreigner enrag'd reply'd:
“Thy Sire I knew, by wide Report proclaim'd,
“A Knight for hardy Prowess not unfam'd,
“Thy childish Frolicks too have reach'd our Ears,
“Thy early Pertness far out strips thy Years;
“But Stripes that growing Mischief should destroy,
“For me I scorn to grapple with a Boy”!

The Youth reply'd—” And hast thou heard my Name,
“Then let th' Encounter tell thee what I am:
“Welcome, the Champion cries, so may I thrive,
“As from my Hands thou partst or partst alive.

And now the setting Sun withdrew his Light,
And Silver Cynthia usher'd in the Night;
Bright o'er the Lawn she shed her clearest Beam,
When to the List these last Contenders came;
The disproportion'd Pair all Eyes employ,
The harden'd Fleming, and the English Boy!
His slightest Efforts first the Champion try'd,
To bend the pliant Youth on every Side;
As feels the rooted Plant the Northern Blast,
And yields to rise more prevalently fast;
So the rude Shock the artful Stripling bore,
And closer press'd still gather'd Strength the more;
Then foil'd, the Fleming's fruitless Rage increas'd,
And diff'rent Motions fill his anxious Breast;
Oft round the Youth this new Alcides wound,
And Gamelyn like Antæus kept his Ground;
Then thus.—“I see thy vast gigantic Pain,
“To bring me down thy Victim on the Plain;
“Now in return, accept what I repay,
“To show my Thanks, and take it as it may!”

So said, around the Champion's bulky Waste,
His slender Arms the vigorous Stripling plac'd;
Artful, unseen, his Foot was plac'd behind,
Where to the left the struggling Cheif inclin'd;
Turn'd from its Poize, his Body whelms the Ground,
A loud Applause the joyful Circle crown'd!
So once, if rightly sacred Stories tell,
Jessides conquer'd, and Goliah fell!
Revers'd, confounded the Insulterlay,
His Visage rent with Pain and deep Dismay!
Three Ribs distorted with the fatal Stroke,
And his left Arm the cumbrous Downfal broke;
To whom the Youth in terms exulting spoke.
Say art thou foil'd, Sir Champion, dost thou own,
This Cast for good? or shall it pass for none?

To whom the Fleming—Whether so it be,
“Ill chance the Man, who taught this Cast to thee!
“Who from thy Youth expects to raise his Boast,
“Shall, by Saint. Swithin, find his Labour lost”.

But stronger Joy that fill'd the Farmer's Mind,
The full Completion of his Hope to find,
Exulting in his alter'd Visage spoke,
And from his Tongue in hasty Transports broke.

“Delightful Youth! sole Prop of my Desires,
“Bless'd be the Day that warm'd thy vital Fires;
“Bless'd be the Morn that sent thee to my Aid,
“Bless'd be thy Arm that thus my Vengeance paid;
“Now to this prostrate Miscreant can I say,
“Here stands the Youth, that foil'd thee at the Play.

To whom agast the suffering Champion cry'd,
“Rough is his Play, as sorely have I try'd;
“Full thirty Years, a Wrestler have I been,
“Inur'd to Toils, and practis'd on the Green;
“But by the Mass, of all I ever met,
“None ever dealt so rudely with me yet”.

Firm in the Place the smiling Victor stood,
In hopes to see the pleasing Strife renew'd;
“And is there none, he said, amongst you all,
“Will venture on the Green to try a Fall”?

In vain he call'd, in vain he look'd around,
Nor Combatant beheld nor Answer found;
From the assur'd Defiance all withdraw,
The Fleming's Downfal kept the Field in Awe.

Then from their Place the reverend Umpires came,
While all the Crow'd repeats the Victor's Name!
“Distinguish'd Youth, they cry'd, whoe'er thou be,
“Thy Valour speaks thee of no low Degree;
“Retire content—the further Fight decline,
“All own the Glories of the Field are thine;
“But Honour first that led thy Footsteps here,
“Commends thy Safety to our faithful Care;
“Cautions thy Health the Midnight Damp to shun,
“Be ours to give the Prize thy Arm has won!
“Then let the Herald tell the Sports are o're,
“And let Repose thy short Fatigue restore.

“I came, the Youth replies, to try your Fair,
“Nor have I yet unfolded half my Ware;
To whom the Fleming “Fool, I ween, is he,
“Who meddles with thy Merchandise, or thee!

“For me, by good Saint Gregory I swear,
“I'll buy no more—thou sell'st it all too dear,
The Farmer then, whose Joy could find no Vent,
Said, Foreign Boaster! rest thee well content,
“By bless'd Saint James of holy Pilgrims sought,
“A penny worth hast thou of what thou bought!
“For had my Wishes but obtain'd the Pow'r,
“Thou never should have try'd this Traffick more.

They ceas'd—for now the appointed Judges bring
Thro' the admiring Crow'd the Ram and Ring;
The pleasing Charge young Gamelyn's Servant takes,
While thus th' assembled Throng his Lord bespeaks,

“In the grey Sky yon eastearn streaks of Light,
“Proclaim the waning Empire of the Night!
“Let your Attendance than my Wishes grace,
“My Father's Hall lies hence a little Space;
“Thither your Company does Kindness pray,
“Nor slight the slender Welcome Love would pay,
“Such Cheer as our Domestic Vaults supply,
“Shall speak my Thanks and crown our mutual Joy!

Applause thro' the consenting Ring resounds,
The Stripling mounts, the joyful Train surrounds;
The Minstrelsie attends, 'tis Frolick all!
And the wild Triumph hastens to the Hall!

The Knight in different Guise the Night had spent,
Perplext with Envy, torn with Discontent;
Till chearful Morning glitt'ring in the East,
Dispell'd all Gloom, but that within his Breast.
Then starting Eager from his restless Bed,
The wayward Caitiff shook his guileful Head;
Earnest to learn the hated Gamelyn's Fate,
He bent his Footsteps to the outer Gate:
O'er the still Road he cast his baleful Eyes,
Surpriz'd as soon the Dusty Vapour spies;
A fainter Clamour next his Ears invades,
And Men and Horse seem pictur'd in the Shades!
But oh what Tumults in his Bosom rise,
What cruel Envy darkens in his Eyes!
When the known Youth he sees with conquest crown'd,
Whom Music waits, and joyful Crowds surround;

Pale grew his Cheek, to find his Purpose crost,
And every cruel Expectation lost;
With falt'ring Voice the Porter down he calls
Summons his Servants to defend the Walls;
Secures each Avenue with fearful Haste,
And makes himself the slender Wicket fast;
A wooden Bolt secur'd that Pass alone,
For Theft and Fraud were then but little known.

Now to the Tow'rs the jovial Train inclin'd,
But look in vain Admittance there to find;
From his fair Steed, dismounts our Gamelyn strait,
Ascends the Steps, and thunders at the Gate.
“Porter, I charge thee by my Father's Name,
“Undo the Doors and let me Entry claim;
“Spread every Passage to my Wishes wide;
“For many a good Man's Son is at my Side;
“Shame to our House, should I thus bring them here,
“To send them back without a Neighbour's Cheer.”

To whom the Porter, trembling as he eyed
The laughing Rout, with feeble Voice reply'd,

“Depart, young Squire, nor vainly idle stand,
“Thou com'st not here, so gave my Lord Command;
“Thou com'st not here, by good Saint Giles, I say,
“Thy Roysters to some other Inn convey!
“Depart, nor bring a Mischief on us both,
“I know my Charge, and will not break my Oath.

“So Heav'n still sheild me from all deadly Sin,
Return'd the Squire—as mean I to get in.
Nor more he said, but once his Foot apply'd,
And the obedient Wicket open'd wide:
At Sight of that the Keeper shook his Head,
And trusting to his Feet, the Varlet fled.
“Is that thy Shift? said Gamelyn, I trow,
“I am of Foot as well expert as thou!
As cuts the fearful Dove her airy Way,
As stoops the tow'ring Falcon on his Prey;
So by the Neck the Fugitive he took,
And with one Grasp the yielding Texture broke.
Down sunk the Wretch, a Well presented nigh
A Depth, scarce fathom'd by the shrinking Eye!

In this he headlong plung'd the wayward Slave,
And sunk him breathless in the liquid Grave;
Then to the Gate with Joy returning pass'd,
Wide to the Wall the spreading Portals cast;
The shouting Train into the Circle broke,
While thus with pleasing Air, the Victor spoke.

“A hearty Welcome here, my Friends, receive,
“Here will we dine nor ask the Master's Leave;
“But Yesterday, if right I can divine,
“I left our Cellars well purvey'd in Wine;
“Four Tuns of Claret, one of Malmsley good,
“Rich to the Taste, and friendly to the Blood!
“While one remaining Drop can chear the Heart,
“Right loth I were, that you and I should part;
“And if my surly Brother grudge th' Expence
(“For well the selfish Niggard loves his Pence)
“Ill let him fare the while and fret him worse,
“Paid for his Envy with Saint Mary's Curse!
“If Any quarrel else, why here we dwell,
“Let the Fool seek his Answer in the Well!

The glad Assembly eccho'd their Consent,
And in the Multitude tumultuous went;
The Squire commands, the fair Provision looks,
And some the Butlers names, and some the Cooks:
While others round the wide Pavilions stray,
And all the Beauties of the Place survey;
At length the breakfast Bell is heard to sound,
The Cloath is spread, the social Bowl is crown'd!
A splendid Dinner next adorns the Board,
With all the Pomp of English Plenty stor'd;
Not the luxurious Whims of modern Date,
The Bane of Health, the Poison of the Great!
By whose Effects Nobility we trace,
The dwindling Product of a wanton Race;
But manly Food that hardy Warriors bred,
Who greatly triumph'd, or who nobly bled!
So well the Master had dispos'd the Feast,
The Company to part seem'd not in haste;
At Ev'n the sparkling Cup allur'd the Eye,
The Joke was rais'd—and rural Wit ran high.

Seven Days had Ceres chear'd the jolly Band!
Seven Nights had Bacchus wav'd his ruddy Brand!
As season'd with Delight the Moments flew,
And still the Entertainment seem'd as new.
Up in a little Turret lay the Knight,
Devoid of Service and consum'd with Spite!
Nor durst he say that ought he saw was wrong,
For Fear, his master Passion, ty'd his Tongue.

But Pleasure will not in its Nature last,
And Joy repeated dies upon the Taste.
Now orient Phœbus shed his golden Flame,
And the eighth Morning of the Banquet came;
When came the grateful Strangers to the Squire,
And beg'd his kind Permission to retire;
For all his Bounties humble Thanks they pay,
But Business must be serv'd, and call'd away!
Some to their Trades, and to their Labours some.
Each long'd impatient for his dearer Home;
The gen'rous Youth in vain their March delay'd,
The more persisted they, the more he pray'd;

In vain he courted, and in vain he show'd,
The Shame of leaving Liquor while 'twas good;
To his Request, they all as firm deny'd,
To theirs, he as reluctantly comply'd;
To Heav'ns Protection they the Squire commend,
And full of Gamelyn's Praises homeward bend.
Yet of the Body clustring that came in,
The Shadow in the last Retreater's seen;
As melts the Snow-Ball by degrees away,
So drop'd the loose Deserters of each Day!
Now comes the General Thaw—and leaves no Trace
Of all the busy Crowd that fill'd the Place!

The Triumph ended—every Guest was gone,
And Gamelyn left to meditate alone;
No Friend to counsel—in the dubious Case,
To fly with Safety, or to stay with Grace?
How for the best his Conduct to devise,
To keep his Pow'r, or seek to compromise?
Nor thought he long, for from his airy Void,
Where he so long had seen his Stores destroy'd;

Now finding the all dreaded Locusts gone,
The angry Knight encourag'd ventur'd down;
Advancing to the Youth with sullen Air,
“So Brother mine, he said, I see your Fare!
“You and your Revelry have rul'd the Roast,
“My Goods abus'd, and my Provisions lost;
“My Cellars drain'd of all my choicest Wine,
“Who gave thee thus to squander what is mine?
“Once, well I think, thou prated'st much of Might,
“How lawless Force oppresses weaker Right;
“But by Saint Martin, make the Case your own,
“You just can do, as other Folks have done!

“Brother, the Youth replys, your Wrath forbear,
“What I have spent of yours has cost me dear;
“Now o'er my Head have sixteen Summers pass'd,
“Since thou my distin'd Heritage possess'd;
“Of all the Profits of the fair Amount,
“Nor hast thou giv'n or Reason, or Account;
“For what thou losest by my friendly Band,
“Let the large Interest answer thy Demand;

“Omit no Article, enlarge the least,
“Be to the Height thy Damage thus replac'd:
“To this, a Trifle all our Mirth has spent,
“Nor scarce the Value of thy monthly Rent.

To whom the Knight—with secret Guile replete:
“Good Brother cease, I matter not the Treat:
“Nor grudge thy Train my Victuals or my Wine,
“Welcome art thou to any thing is mine;
“Thou know'st in Wife or Child am I unblest,
“To whom I may bequeath my Lands possess'd:
“'Tis thine to dissipate or thine to spare,
“For, by Saint Martin, I design thee Heir!

To whom the Squire—“Canst thou so friendly be,
“If with thy Tongue thy Heart sincere agree,
“So help me Heaven as still I honour thee!
For Gamelyn's Soul, to Falseshood unally'd,
Was still deluded with the fairer Side;
His Brother then-“One thing I left to say,
“Rash was the Vow my Passion made the Day,

“When by thy fatal Arm my Porter fell,
“Slain in the Court, and bury'd in the Well;
“For then my Anger swore thy Limbs to bind,
“Nor can I from my Oath Evasion find;
“Could thou a Moment's Space the Durance bear,
“My Love should make thy Fetters light as Air!
“The short Consent would quit my harsh Decree,
“More would I do, I think for Sake of thee.”

To whom the Youth-“The pleasing Bonds I take,
“Thou never shalt be perjur'd for my Sake.

By Flattery thus the Knight his Purpose gains;
The Servants call'd bring out the destin'd Chains:
The Youth sits down, the Fetters on they brace,
And deadly Ruin wears a smiling Face!
But when the Caitiff saw each Lock secure,
And that the cheated Youth was pris'ned sure;
Then from its Covert dark Resentment burst,
And with imbitter'd Rage he doubly curs'd!
Fire darted from his Eyes and swell'd his Breast;
While thus the Wretch his cruel Thought express'd.

“Go take this Royster hence, this graceless Boy,
“Who nurs'd in Ease takes Pleasure to destroy;
“Had he the Rule of our paternal Hall,
“Soon by his Waste our Opulence would fall:
“What Wealth could his Extravagance supply?
“Dogs would devour, and Beasts would drink him dry!
“A Pillar stands amidst the Lobby plac'd,
“Thither convey the Fool, and bind him fast;
“There let him dream of Tournaments and Fights,
“Of his late Riots, and his wassell Nights!
“Nor Meat nor Drink his Vision shall sustain,
“Fasting will help the Frenzy of his Brain;
“Who dares within our Roof his Wants supply,
“Shall with Disgrace expell'd our Service fly.

“And acts thou so? the generous Youth reply'd,
“Fool that I was to trust a Traytor try'd!
“Too weak indeed! who knew thy Faith before,
“Again to put my Safety in thy Pow'r;
“But Monster go! thy hellish Conquest boast,
“Thy Brother fetter'd, and thy Honour lost!

“Happy for thee, I knew not thy Design,
“Else had I paid thy Guile in better Coin;
“But sate thy Malice, send me to my Grave,
“My Heart disdains thee, like thy meaness Slave.

Their Lord's Command the servile Train obey,
And to his Post the captive Youth convey;
There in Confinement strict the Prisoner stands,
Inchain'd his Feet, and manacled his Hands;
Yet in his noble Air and Look serene,
The dauntless Temper of his Mind was seen;
There to the dewy Marble fetter'd fast,
Two tedious Days and Nights of Want he pass'd;
The Jest or Pity of the passing Crowd,
Who ey'd him often, silent as he stood;
Some with a tender Look his Fate beheld,
But Fear of Blame the falling Drop conceal'd.
Others of baser Stamp, the Worms of Pow'r,
Who take their motly Hire from Fortune's hour:
To pay their Court, employ their scurril Store,
And wound the generous Victim o'er and o'er.

With Famine wasted, feeble with Restraint,
Gamelyn began to feel his Vigour faint;
Now the third Morn had Sol his Lamp renew'd,
Since no Supply had fed the Vital Flood;
Slow from his Heart heav'd the exhausted Tide,
O'er his dim Eyes the misty Vapours glide:
When first the Youth on Adam fix'd his Sight,
Who saw with much Concern his heavy Plight;
He in his Father's Service spent his Youth,
Known was his Honesty, approv'd his Truth.
Oft had his Arms the smiling Infant press'd,
His Care attended, and his Faith caress'd;
To him the Youth, for his Deliverance seeks,
And thus the antient Servant mild bespeaks.
“Adam! my Father to thy Youth was kind,
“Nor do I think his Favours out of Mind.
“What need to tell my Case, or shew my Wrong?
“These Walls, if they could speak, would save my Tongue;
“Didst thou from Infancy good Bondis serve,
“And canst thou see his Favourite chain'd to starve?

“Perish I must, if you Relief deny,
“This Lent was never made for you or I.
“Then prithee, honest Butler, look the Keys,
“And bring my wearied Limbs some little Ease;
“As freely thou the just Reward demand,
“And take the Half of my paternal Land.

To whom the Butler—(half to yield inclin'd,
Yet fearful as he felt his dubious Mind)
“Thy Father, Gamelyn, I dearly knew,
“Nor want to learn the Love he bore to you!
“Thy Brother have I serv'd now Years sixteen
“And with domestick Cares have trusted been;
“Shall I, when Age has made my Temples grey,
“Abuse my Place, what would my Master say?

“Adam, reply'd the Youth, to me be just,
“Nor shall you thence betray your antient Trust;
“Thou seest my Brother's Falshood shown to me,
“How canst thou hope he will be true to thee;
“Alas! the Wretch is by no Ties confin'd,
“'Tis Interest only rules his sordid Mind;

“Tis that alone does all his Actions guide,
“Treason to Traytors, ne'er can be apply'd;
“For me, I yield thee all my Lands to share,
“Thou knowst my Word, accept it if thou dare!

Adam was honest—but like all the Tribe,
He had a secret Biass to the Bribe:
Soon he consented to the Squire's Request,
And promis'd for his Sake to try his best;
So parted they on mutual Terms agreed.
The Tale, perhaps, grows long, kind Muse, proceed!

Now drowsy Morpheus with his leaden Rod,
Had shed his Influance o'er the still Abode;
When Adam to his Master's Chamber crept,
And stole the Keys as silently he slept;
Then hasten'd Gamelyn, his Charge, to find,
For still, the promis'd Land was in his Mind.

The Chains were loos'd—the Youth new Spirits found,
Bestir'd his Arms, and mov'd along the Ground.
“To Heav'n I yield the Thanks, and next to Thee,
“He cry'd, Good Adam, thus to find me free:

“Wouldst thou but in thy Pantry spread the Board,
“And give me what thy Cellars can afford;
“For once refresh'd, if I mistake not quite,
“Not all the House should fetter me To-night.

So saying, thro' the spacious Hall they pass'd,
Led by the Light the distant Taper cast;
Together to the lighted Pantry come,
Where Gamelyn finds prepared a little Room;
The ready Cloath purvey'd was set in View,
And Adam bid him welcome, and fall to!
Nor needed he the Invitation twice,
But heard the Call, his Stomach was not nice!
Next Adam fills with Wine the silver Cup,
And drinks his Health, the hearty Brimmer up!
Renew'd, the Youth the smiling Cordial took,
And gave him back his Pledge with friendly Look;
Returning Vigour mantles in his Breast,
His sparkling Eyes returning Life confess'd!
To Adam then—“I give thee to divine
“What is the present Shape of my Design;

“I mean to seek my Brother in his Bed,
“And with one Stroke to doom the Traitor dead.

“Not so, said Adam, Heav'n thy Arm restrain,
“Nor soil your Honour with so foul a Stain.
“My present Views to safer Counsels bend,
“Which Prudence guides, and with Success shall end;
“To-morrow holds Sir John his Sunday's Feast,
“With all our neighb'ring Ecclesiastics grac'd;
“From the huge Abbot, and the jolly Prior,
“To the sly Monk, and gormandizing Friar!
“The Knight, tho' otherwise inclin'd to spare,
“Yet loves to get our Mother-Church's Pray'r;
“And nothing buys it sooner than a Treat,
“For well these holy Locusts love to eat!
“Now to thy former Post shall thou repair,
“Thy Fetters seeming fasten'd as they were;
“While thus the motly Tribe pass on your Way,
“The speckled Brotherhood, black, brown, or grey!
“Prefer your Suit, implore the Church's Aid,
“To move your Brothers Pity on your Head.

“Tell them from Faith that Hope at first begins,
“And Charity can hide a Heap of Sins:
“If they compassionate, thy Cause maintain,
“Then art thou free, and blameless I remain;
“But if, as from their Stamp, I better guess,
“Thy just Petition meet with no Success;
“If they, disdainfull, thy Demand refuse,
“Thou need'st no more but shake thy Fetters loose;
“Two trusty Staves shall lie prepar'd at Hand,
“One shall I take, and one shall thou command;
“Nor grudge the Discipline we give each Brother;
“Ill thrive the first, I say, that fails the other.

Gamelyn the while, with laughing like to die,
Scarce cou'd recover Breath to form Reply.
‘By good Saint Martyn, worship thee I ought,
“Adam, he cry'd, it was a glorious Thought.
“So may I drink my Wine, and tell my Tale,
“As on my Side will the Adventure fail!
“Right well shall I absolve them of their Sin,
“Give but the Signal, when we shall begin.

“That shall I do, the Butler blythe reply'd,
“Mark when I wink, then cast thy Bonds aside;
“Secure thy Staff, be ready at my Hand,
“And we shall count at large the Holy Band.

To whom the Youth, still Adam may thou speed,
“For better Counsel never came at need;
“If these good Folks deny for me to pray,
“I trust, they shall not scape without their Pay.

The Bottle ended,—Adam Gamelyn press'd,
To snatch an Hour, of necessary Rest;
Then e're the early Porter left his Bed,
Back to his Post, the joyful Youth he led;
Impatient there to wait approaching Noon,
When the intended Farce should be begun.

Now Morning dawns, the Servants rise with Care,
And for the Business of the Day prepare;
The Knight to Mass rides out with Pride elate,
At noon returning, brings his Guests in State;
Close by his Side, a mitred Abbot rode,
Three Priors follow'd, each a Horses Load!

Canons and Monks well mounted next appear,
The barefoot Mendicants bring up the Rear;
The puffing Drones from every Quarter pour,
Bred, not to make the Honey, but devour!
All as they enter fair Attendance find,
And large Respect, well suited to their Mind;
While scornful at the Door each passing by,
On fetter'd Gamelyn cast a sullen Eye.
Whose Sufferings still his Brother's Pastime made,
While of the Youth a thousand Lyes he said;
Told how the Boy, had lost his Wits with Pride,
And thence in that Confinement so was ty'd;
The sordid Crowd the Punishment commend,
Not one appears to be Misfortune's Friend;
Each in Invective labour'd to excel,
And Gamelyn saw that Adam knew them well!

But now the Bell salutes their longing Ears,
The Dinner, spendid to their Wish, appears;
Each to their fav'rite Dish instructed drew,
For Feasting was a Province well they knew!

Now had they seen some Courses two or three,
When Gamelyn said, “Pray Friends how serve ye me?
“Not equitable quite its seems at least,
“The Son should perish, while the Strangers feast:
Sir John replies,—“This Babler mind no more,
“The Boy is wild, I told ye so before!
“And yet, methinks, his Voice is pretty strong,
“For one that has been dinnerless so long.
But Gamelyn now intent, what Adam said,
Observing, thus his low Addresses made,
“From Greatness Sorrow still Relief shou'd find,
“And gen'rous Pity shows a noble Mind.
“To ling'ring Death appointed here I stand,
“O shame to Nature, by a Brother's Hand!
“Then by his Passion, who for Sinners bled,
“Ye Rev'rend Prelates, for my Freedom plead!
“Let my slight Fault your Intercession crave,
“Your Goodness from devoted Ruin save!
“So may each Saint your just Petitions own;
“And on your Heads send num'rous Blessings down”!

To whom an Abbot with distemper'd Cheek:
“Who for thy graceless Head presumes to speak,
“Deserves himself to be corrected worse;
“For me, I give him holy Church's Curse!
“But blest the Man, who thus ordains thy Fate,
“And punishes a Wretch that all shou'd hate!

He ceas'd; and thus a Canon next begun:
“Wert Thou, ungracious Youth, my only Son;
“To Death deserv'd my Voice shou'd bid thee go!
“My Eye, like Brutus, tearless see the Blow”.

All at the Canon's wond'rous Learning gaze,
And All agree to give his Judgement Praise.
But most a pamper'd Monk; who thought it wrong,
“That such a wicked Lad had liv'd so long!
But strong Resentment Gamelyn's Bosom fir'd,
Flash'd from his Eye, and all his Arm inspir'd;
“Go on, he cries, to pay your wretched Court,
“Make Pow'r your Idol, Innocence your Sport!
“I see the Fate, Misfortune still attends,
“I find the Truth; The wretched have no Friends!

“Go on, your murderous Mischiefs to devise,
“Ye ravenous Wolves, tho' dress'd in Lambs disguise!
“Curss'd for my Sake, be he in Flesh and Blood,
“That ever does to Church, or Churchmen Good!

This while on Adam well he fix'd his Look,
Who just the Covering from the Table took;
With Pleasure Adam mark'd his Passion rise,
And to the Door directed with his Eyes;
Where Gamelyn saw the Staves were ready plac'd,
Then view'd the Wink;—and off his Fetters cast;
As soon he to the trusty Weapon flew,
And roun'd the Hall, his angry Aspect threw.

“Adam, he cry'd, do thou the Pass secure,
“Nor let a Cowl uncustom'd pass the Door.
“Mien while shall I examine all within,
“And help to shrive them from their deadly Sin!
“Methinks they keep not Vigils as they ought,
“They look as better fed, by far, than taught;
“They want some Discipline to cool the Blood,
“Perhaps this wholsome Staff may do some good;

“But to the Cloth due Reverence let me show,
“And take them in their Order as they go”.
Then on the Abbot's lordly Flank he laid,
Such Pennance as before was never made;
The Cannon next a-long his browny Side,
Felt the unusual Remedy apply'd,
Half dead with Pain beneath the Table fell;
Follow'd a Monk, who scap'd not quite so well!
Thick as the Hail-stones form the wintry Show'r,
So thick the Strokes amongst the Synod pour;
Chairs overturn'd with Hoods, confuse the Hall,
And the unsparing Cudgel levels all!

But in a Corner safe, the Laymen stood,
And unconcern'd the Church's Danger view'd;
With secret Signs, they prais'd the friendly Hand,
That dealt such Interest to the selfish Band;
Nor had they Pity on the haughty Drones,
Who dignify themselves,—The Church's Sons.

To Gamelyn then delighted Adam cry'd,
“Pay well the Wages due to every Hide,

“Here shall I stand, nor one shall pass unseen,
“Who cannot show thy Livery on his Skin!

“That shall I do, said Gamelyn, by my Troth,
“To cheat the Church, I should be sadly loth;
“Not here a Man shall miss his ample Pay,
“From his first Clerkship, to this present Day;
“Then keep thy Post, pass none without a blow;
“And we shall mark the Sheep before they go.

“Dear Youth says Adam, do them all but good,
“But take good Heed, thy weapon draw no Blood;
“Save well the Tonsure, and avoid the Head,
“But beat and bruise them, till they lie for Dead,
“Spare neither Back, nor Leg, nor Thigh, nor Arm,
“I shou'd not care to do them greater Harm!

So Gamelyn and Adam foil'd their Foes
So met the disappointed Priests with Blows;
They to the Dinner rode, with joyful Haste,
But ill they lik'd the ending of the Feast;
Forc'd, maim'd and sore, unpity'd to depart,
The Load of many a Wain, and many a Cart;

A Frier, whose Bones the Discipline had try'd,
As the fat Abbot press'd his aking Side:
Cry'd, “Good my Lord, what Planet rul'd to Day,
“And led our luckless Steps, this cursed Way;
“Better at home, our Vigils had we kept,
“Taken a cordial Dose, and wisely slept:
“By good Saint Mary, but the Boy was warm,
“And laid it on with a remorseless Arm;
“But soon the Church's Vengeance shall be paid,
“And all our fearful Thunder blast his Head.

While Gamelyn pleas'd to see the Work go on,
Had laid his Hands o'er many a shaven Crown;
His Brother shrinking in a Corner lay,
Dreading the Close of this ill-omen'd Fray;
Him Gamelyn spy'd, and where th' embracing Blade
Sustains entwining the supported Head;
Strong fell his Arm, the yielding Sinues break,
And the distorted Muscles mark his Back!
Then by the Arm, he leads him to the Place,
So late the Scene of his reveng'd Disgrace;

“Now Knight, he cries, by good St. James I swear,
“I mean to make you try a Brother's Fare,
“Your Passions oft are apt to grow too loud,
“But Fasting qualisies the Heat of Blood;
“You have enjoy'd your Pleasure as you may,
“My turn is next,—each Man must have his Day.

To Adam turning,—then the Youth went on,
“I hold it right we wash, our Task is done:
“If foil'd perhaps our Hands with mortal Sin,
“Let Silver Medway's Current make us clean;
“Then sit we down,—my Stomach calls to Eat;
“Mass never was design'd to hinder Meat.

So to the ready Board, with chearful Air,
The honest Butler and the Squire repair:
While oft the genial Bowl is sent around,
And oft to mutual Faith the Brimmer crown'd;
Adam with Humour paints, the Church's Flight,
And Gamelyn drinks, Deliverance to the Knight;
The duteous Servants wait the Youth's Commands,
Rejoyc'd to see him saved from deadly Bands.

So pass their Hours, while Fortune's Hand prepares,
Severer Trials and succeeding Cares;
Not five Mile distant lay the Sheriff's Court,
Thither in Crowds the noisy Monks resort;
The Sacriledge display with venom'd Tongues,
And call the civil Arm to aid their Wrongs;
From Drone to Drone the loud Invective flies,
For touch one Wasp, and all the Nest will rise.

Incens'd the Sheriff heard the large Complaint,
But seeks his Vengeance from a secret Feint;
Twice ten he chuses of his wonted Band,
Full resolute to act his close Command;
Whose vig'rous Nerves unwasted Youth supply'd,
In Order faithful, and in Contest try'd!
To them unfolds the Manner of the Deed,
And promises large Gifts if they succeed.

As bold they answer—to the neighb'ring Sign,
He sends them first, where at his Cost they dine;
The Bowl succeeds, till Day withdraws its Light,
And Hesper gilds the gloomy Brow of Night.

To Business then they bid their Pleasure yield,
And out they march appointed for the Field.

And now along the silent Way they trod,
Still was the Night, and Darkness reign'd abroad.
The Birds were hush'd within their peaceful Nests,
And Trouble wak'd alone in human Breasts;
O'er the known Heath, across the dewy Grass,
And thro' the quiet Village on they pass;
Where as the Centinel their Motion hears,
He often barks, and often pricks his Ears!
So deep a Sable now usurp'd the Skies,
They hope to win the Castle by Surprize,
When from afar, to damp the recent Joy,
The glimmering Taper's Beam confus'd they spy.
Short at the Sight their present Course they break,
And halt to form what Measures now to take.

A Copse beneath the Castle's Summit lay,
Thither their new Resolve directs the Way;
There they intend approaching Morn to wait,
And try by Stratagem to gain the Gate.

Aurora smil'd—and from the russet Lawn,
Up sprung the chearful Lark to hail the Dawn!
When void of Weapons and in Clowns disguise,
Knock at the Gate the two selected Spies;
With harmless Guise their fatal Purpose dress,
And call the Porter and demand Access.

The watchful Porter from his Lodge unseen,
Had view'd their March and mark'd their dubious Mien;
Who lov'd the noble Youth and fear'd Deceit,
Requires their Message—nor unbarrs the Gate.

To whom, we come with no unfriendly Mind,
“To warn the gentle Squire of Harm design'd,;
“This Morning, as to woodland Work we went,
“Some Strangers we observ'd of ill Intent;
“Hither we heyed us by our Duty prest,
“Pray let us in, your Lord shall know the rest.

“Not so—reply'd the Servant—stand ye still,
“And I shall let you know our master's Will:
Then in to Gamelyn's Hall as fast he goes,
“Make ready, Lord, for here arrive your Foes;

“Two of the Sheriff's Villains watch the Gate;
“And seek your Ear—but there I bad them wait.

“Thanks trusty Friend, the dauntless Youth reply'd,
“Back to the Gate and see what may betide;
“You soon shall find if Foes so near there be,
“They shall not meet an easy Prize in me.

To Adam then—” For Contest now prepare,
“The pleasing Toils of honourable War!
“Pow'r threatens loud, and Prudence bids retreat;
“Yet must I try these Heroes at the Gate:
“If thou assist as on a former Day,
“They shall not go from hence without their Pay.
To whom the Butler—“So may Heaven befriend,
“One Course shall guide us, and one Fate attend;
“Do thou perform thy Part, as with the Friers.
“Some of these Knaves shall bed among'st the Briers.

Then on their trusty Staves at once they seize,
And at the postern Gate pursue their Ways;
As once conjoin'd the Grecian Chiefs of old,
Ulysses sage, and Diomede the Bold,

So silent by the winding Moat they pass'd,
Till on their Foes a nearer View they cast:
For now assembling the collected Band
In the King's Name an Entry loud demand;
Nor longer Semblance or Disguise put on,
But seek with Force to break the Barrier down.

As when the Bird of Jove amid'st the Skies,
With piercing Eye the distant Quarry spys:
Collects his Fire—intrepid darts his Way,
And falls resistless on the yielding Prey!
So at the Sight young Gamelyn's Breast grew warm,
He flew—and three were lost beneath his Arm.
One Adam following fell'd—nor needed more
To dissipate the rude ungovern'd Pow'r.
Fear lent them Wings, and well those Wings they try'd,
To seek their Safety—Nature was their Guide.
“What ho! cry'd Adam, Friends! why so much Haste,
“Will you not stay and take a short Repast?
“No, by the Mass (said one) your Sample's bad;
“I like not where such Dainties may be had.

With that away the fearful Caitiff flew,
And in the neighb'ring Shades escap'd the View.

The Scuffle ended Gamelyn look'd around,
And at the wide Horizon's distant Bound,
Far as the Sight its Progress could extend,
He saw a gathering Cloud of Dust ascend;
“Adam, he cry'd, or I mistake me quite,
“But here the Sheriff comes with all his Might.
“Wisdom forbids us longer to remain,
“Haste let us go and seek the Sylvan Scene!
“Better to wander in these Shades alone,
“For what is Life, when Liberty is gone?

Agreed, said Adam. Sir, I keep my Vow,
I call you mine, nor Fate shall part us now!
But e'er we go indulge one social Glass,
'Twill chear us for the Lot we must embrace.

The Squire assents, the sparkling Cup goes round,
And quick they leave the shortly dangerous Ground;
Pursue the Margin of the Medway Flood,
And gain by Noon the Shelter of the Wood.

And now advance the Posse's wide Array,
And meet their first Detachment on the Way.
Enrag'd the Sheriff urges on his Course,
The Castle opens to the Sov'reign's Force;
But more incens'd to find the Guilty fled,
He vows Destruction on the Rebel's Head;
Then hastes to bring the captive Knight Release,
Who long had sat confin'd in doleful Case;
And for a skilful Leech as soon they seek,
To heal the wayward Wight's distorted Neck.

So leave we them a while—with Care renew'd
To wait our gentle Exiles in the Wood;
Long march'd they on, and took but little Rest,
The Shadows lengthen'd, and the Day decreas'd;
The Path grew narrow, and the dubious Way
Was often stopp'd by the entwining Spray;
Adam, whose Pantry still ran in his Mind,
Relish'd but ill his living on the Wind;
“By good Saint Kit, said he, my loving Squire,
“A Butler's Life was ever my Desire.

“Right well I like the keeping of the Keys:
“Faith, I was never made for Toils like these:
“Better at home in Plenty pass the Day,
“Than in these empty Forests pine away.
“Repine not, Friend, the noble Youth reply'd;
“Heav'n owns our Cause, and Fortune be our Guide
“Nor judge of Happiness by present Rest;
“Hardships are oft the Fortune of the Best!

Thus, as in Talk the tedious Way they cheer,
Heav'n drew her sable Stole along the Sphere,
When sudden Adam gave surpriz'd a Start,
And felt a sudden Fear assault his Heart.
He stopt to listen, thro' the quiv'ring Shade;
The broken Sounds anew his Ears invade.
On Gamelyn he looks, who heard the same,
Nor knew as yet from whence the Accents came;
Till gently bending thro' the op'ning Trees,
A large Assembly banquetting he sees,
As oft, so legendary Fables feign,
The little Elves bestrew the Midnight-Plain.

From Eyes profane their mystick Revels keep,
And sport unseen, when wretched Mortals sleep:
So thro' the Gloom, distinct with spangled Light,
An hundred Archers rose to Gamelyn's Sight;
Stretch'd at their Ease, the Ground with Viands spread,
And many a Cup was fix'd to many a Head!
“Now, Adam (soft he cry'd) retract your Fault;
“Heav'n now, you see, is kinder than you thought.
“You see, from black Despair it can restore,
“And bring Relief, when Hope can do no more!
“So now it seems—For, Adam, well, I think,
“I see the sight of Victu'ls and of Drink.
“But, lest I err—assist me with thy View,
“And tell me, if my Eyes inform me true?

Then Adam stooping well perceiv'd the Feast,
And only wish'd for leave to be a Guest.
“Good Squire, he cries, I see right plenteous Fare;
“Heav'n send I only knew to get my Share!

He spoke; the Words too vehemently said,
The hasty Speaker, and his Friend betray'd.

The Master Outlaw started from the Shade,
And to his Train, with some Emotion, said,
“To Arms, my Lads: For by the holy Rood,
“I fear some near, who mean us little good.
“Perhaps, as Spies, to usher more behind:
“Go Ten of you! and see how blows the Wind?

Quick rise the Band, the neighb'ring Gloom explore,
And find the Vagrants of the darksome Hour!
Yet gently, for the Bus'ness they profest,
The Outlaw Train the Strangers thus addrest;
“Young Men, your Weapons to our hands consign,
“And trust our Faith, and tell us your Design.

Then Gamelyn answer'd—“Ill you judge the Field,
“If you imagine, I was born to yield.
“Ten are you now; let Ten be added more;
“Nor shall I fly you, tho' you were Threescore,

Surpriz'd they heard the Words the Stripling said,
And charm'd, his manly Air and Face survey'd.
Then one return'd—“Preserve your Weapons still,
“But come with us, and know our Master's Will.

“Be it our Care, as was our Charge to bring
“You straitways to the Presence of our King,

To whom the gen'rous Gamelyn, pleas'd, reply'd,
“I go content; be you our friendly Guide!
“But, on your Faith, the Honour of your Sword,
“Who is your King? What mean you by the Word!

To whom return'd the Spokesman of the Train,
“We live the free-born Natives of the Plain:
“No formal Tie, nor nobler Union binds,
“But Friendship firm, the Sympathy of Minds!
“From hence, in common our Enjoyment springs,
“We boast a Privilege as great as Kings!
“Conquest gives them a Right; why not the same
“To us? The diff'rence only lies in Name.
“Yet Silk and Ermine veil those haughty Elves;
“The Great can bear no Robbers but themselves.
“With us our own Election bears the sway;
“We prove our Chief, then chuse, and then obey!
“Such is our King; I wait you to his Sight;
“He Merit loves, and will receive you right.

“Adam (said Gamelyn) let us then proceed
“If courteous be this Captain, as I read;
“He will receive us civilly at least,
“And let us nobly of his Bounty taste;
“Go on, cry'd Adam, wait us Ill or Good,
“I'll venture every Chance in hopes of Food.”
So dubious they attend the Greenwood Band,
And in the Leader's Presence quickly stand.
Beneath the Covert of an ample Shade,
The Sylvan Monarch's mossy Throne was spread;
In Dress a Forrester array'd in Green,
Hung o'er his Side his glittering Horn was seen:
With which full oft he made the Woods resound,
When at the Call his Archers flock'd around!
His nervous Arm sustain'd the weighty Bow,
Fierce was his Port, and sullen was his Brow,
When thus—“Whence come you Strangers, what you are
“Your Names, your Dwelling and Intent declare,
“If artful Spies of cruel Pow'r you come,
“Ill was the Hour, or dread shall be your Doom;

“But if by Men, and social Ills betray'd,
“You seek the Covert of the friendly Shade;
“Dismiss your Fears, to our Protection trust,
“And learn that Outlaws are to Honour just.”

To whom the dauntless Youth with decent Pride
And all the Dignity of Truth reply'd:
“When Malice triumphs, Innocence must yield,
“When Towns grow dangerous, Men must walk the Field,
“Better with Freedom range the Woodland Scene,
“Than bear the Tyranny of worthless Men:
“Such is our Case—no base born Spies you see,
“But honest Exiles press'd with Misery;
“Who wander devious thro' the Forest-Lawn,
“In hopes to shoot some Deer or tender Fawn!

Compassion seiz'd the rugged Leader's Breast,
“Dismiss your Fears, I take you for my Guest;
“Sit welcome here, and share our coarse Repast,
“Want knows no Forms, 'tis time to break your Fast.

Right glad was Adam of the kind Request,
Nor needed Invitation to the Feast.

The Strangers sit—while all on Gamelyn gaze,
And silently admiring, silent praise;
Till one who formerly had present been
When the defeated Flemming press'd the Green,
In Whispers to his Fellow told his Name,
Till circling reach'd the Leader's Ear his Fame!
Thence with new Confidence the Youth was grac'd,
And next their Chief in Power and Honour plac'd
Such the Reward unshelter'd Merit finds,
So Valour triumphs ev'n o'er savage Minds!

Not long they had the Sylvan Life pursu'd,
And rang'd with Outlaws the remotest Wood,
When to the Chief the pleasing News were sent,
Of offer'd Grace and ended Banishment;
With rising Joy he view'd the opening Scene,
For still the social Tye is felt within;
Yet half reluctant to desert his Sway,
And leave the faithful Train his Call obey:
He summons round his bold obedient Hearts,
And thus the Purpose of his Soul imparts!

“Ye noble Spirits, ye associate Minds!
“Whom Griefs assemble, and whom Honour binds,
“Ye Sons of Want, in sharpest Honours try'd,
“Whose Trust has chose this Arm to be your Guide,
“Tydings I bring—uncertain how they please,
“Pardon recalls me to domestick Ease;
“Yet vain the Offer—had I still been young,
“Had not advancing Years my Nerves unstrung!
“But Nature yielding courts the Hope of Rest,
“And Time has damp'd the Fever in my Breast!
“Your martial Toils a nobler Chief demand,
“Your Dangers ask a more determin'd Hand.
“And see in Gamelyn, all your Wishes bent,
“Behold a Leader Heav'n it self has sent,
“To him contented I the Rule resign,
“Whose Conduct well shall pay the Loss of mine!
He spoke—his Archers answer'd with a Cry,
And wide the Voice of Eccho wafts the Joy!
Round Gamelyn's Head the Regal Mark is ty'd,
The glittering Horn suspended by his Side;

With gallant Air he greets the cheerful Band,
And takes each faithful Archer by the Hand;
While some the abdicating Chief convey,
Safe in his Passage to the publick Way.

Now Gamelyn rul'd, and led the outlaw Train
In all their wide Excursions o'er the Plain;
No Blood he shed, still gentle to the Poor,
He only tax'd the Overgrowth of Store:
But chief to Monks and Priests was he severe;
He knew the Church had Wealth enough to spare;
And well he paid their Charity in kind,
For deep it lay remember'd in his Mind.

Soon to his envious Brother reach'd the Tale
That Gamelyn rul'd the Outlaws in the Dale;
A sudden Joy, malicious, seiz'd his Breast,
And fed the Vengeance long his Mind possess'd;
Late had the Royal Mandate to his Claim,
Assign'd the Honours of the Sheriff's Name;
The Scheme he plans, the strong Indictment draws,
In all the aggravated Strain of Laws.

And Truth and Nature to his Rage subdu'd,
Fixes the Value of fraternal Blood;
Then casts about his secret Haunts to know,
And aim with Certainty the fatal Blow!

Far different Thoughts his Brother's Vassals had,
Their Lord's impending Ruin made them sad;
They knew his Goodness, wish'd for his Command,
And hop'd to thrive beneath his milder Hand.
With Zeal inspir'd, the noted Wood they tread,
And find their Lord amidst the friendly Shade.

To whom the Forms of Duty first express'd,
They tell the Cause which has their March address'd.
“Forgive us, noble Youth, nor disapprove
“This rude Intrusion of officious Love.
“Ill News we bring; but for your Safety brought
“To shun the Danger, of the Danger taught:
“The Sheriff's Pow'r now fills your Brother's Hands,
“And ample Kent obeys his wide Commands;
“Late has his Wrath the cruel Doom proclaim'd,
“Thy Life is purchas'd, and the Price is nam'd.

“Warn'd by our Counsel chuse some safe Retreat,
“And keep thy Virtues for a happier Fate.

“Fool that I was, the generous Youth reply'd,
“To spare his Neck, when I deform'd his Side:
“But you, return! my Friends with Kindness greet,
“And tell them Gamelyn Danger loves to meet;
“So Heav'n my Fortunes and my Life defend,
“As I this Brother-Sheriff shall attend;
Nor less indeed, I ween, was his Intent,
For Gamelyn never spoke but what he meant.

The Day arriv'd, the crowded Court was held,
The wayward Sheriff all his Pomp reveal'd,
When boldly to the high Surprize of all,
The hardy Youth appear'd before the Hall;
First, to his Country paid the Honours due,
Then on his Brother cast a scornful View;
When thus, “Degenerate both in Form and Heart,
“Thou Foe to Truth, and Stranger to Desert!
“Say, thou inhumane Tyrant! Name the Cause,
“Why thus I stand, the Outcast of the Laws?

“Why with inveterate Rage my Life pursued,
“And thirsts thy Malice for a Brother's Blood?”
“Well art thou found, the Knight returns with haste;
“Dear shall thou pay this Boldness, and the past;
“The Righteous Law already dooms thee dead;
“And Justice hovers round thy hot-brain'd Head!
“Go seize the Boy—to Prison safe convey,
“There let him wait till Justice comes her Way!”

In Durance now behold the Youth immur'd,
With Want attended, and in Bolts secur'd:
But still superior to Affliction's State,
He views the threat'ning Precipice of Fate.
One Beam appear'd—a trusty Hand he gains
With ample Promise buys his secret Pains;
To him his Purpose careful he commends,
And to his Brother Otto, faithful, sends;
Otto, who prov'd retir'd from Cares and Toil,
The grateful Leisure of the plenteous Soil!

With Grief his kindly Brother hears the News,
Resolv'd to save,—and not a Moment lose;

His fleetest Steed awaits his instant Call,
And swift he seeks his old paternal Hall.

Friendship is still the Test of noble Minds,
He gains the Castle, and the Knight he finds.
“Brother, abrupt he says, when Pow'r's misplac'd,
“Oft Virtue bleeds, and Merit is disgrac'd;
“Yet stranger Cruelty infects your Mind,
“A Brother to a Brother should be kind;
“Three were we left in one kind Parent blest,
“And Love and Union was his last Request;
“Committed to thy Faith and Guardian care,
“He left this fav'rite Child, his youngest Heir;
“And will thy Heart inhumane doom the Boy,
“A Brother's Hand, a Brother's Life destroy?
“To wretched Cain so guiltless Abel fell,
“Go thou, and copy the first Son of Hell.
“Forbear thy railing, answer'd short the Knight,
“Nor blast my Justice with the Name of Spite;
“Her Scale I ballance, and her Sword I wield,
“To her I bid each Tie inferior yield;

“Nor Blood I value, nor Relation know,
“When the Law points my Brother as a Foe;
“Thy Intercession makes his Case the worse,
“There let him lie—till Justice takes her Course.”

“Not so, by Heav'n, incens'd Sir Otto said,
“Nor shall thy Malice hurt our Brother's Head;
‘Thou talk'st of Law, by that I make Demand;
“I bail the injur'd Stripling from thy Hand,
“I take the Charge,—and here engage my Word,
“To bring him, at thy legal Call restor'd.

To whom, enrag'd the swelling Knight replies,
“Go, take thy Bail,—but mark what I advise;
“By that good Father's Soul from whom we came,
“And by the Body of our honour'd Dame;
“If Gamelyn comes not at th' appointed Day,
“Thy Head the Forfeit of the Law shall pay.”

Agreed, return'd Sir Otto, Knight, agreed,
“I take thy Gage, be then our Brother freed!
The Knight reluctant signs the Order due,
The Brother hastens to his Gamelyn's View;

Bears the glad Youth with fond Affection home,
And chears him for the Dangers yet to come.

Now Supper ended, o'er the genial Glass,
As in Discourse the happy Hour they pass,
Young Gamelyn thought on Empire left behind,
And all the Picture glow'd within his Mind!
“Brother, he said, the grateful Thanks I owe
“Words faintly speak, but future Time shall show:
“But needs I must with the returning Dawn
“Visit my Men that range the flow'ry Lawn,
“To see what good or ill my Friends betide,
“Who sav'd my Life and chose me for their Guide.

To whom, appall'd, return'd the honest Knight,
“I like not, Gamelyn, this Design so right;
“Thou know'st my Honour fetter'd in thy Cause,
“Thou know'st the Ills on me thy Absence draws;
“More generous then, for my Affection shown,
“To leave me for thy Sake to be undone!”

To whom the Youth,—“Sir Otto keep your Heart,
“Nor yet distrust me, tho' I mean to part.

“By conscious Heav'n, by Friendship here I swear,
“Just to thy Promise shall I re-appear;
“So Heav'n my Liberty and Life defend,
“As never meant I to desert my Friend!”

“Enough, I take thy Word, Sir Otto said,
“Go see thy Forresters beneath the Glade;
“Heaven shield thy Life from ev'ry threatned Ill,
“And think on one whose Love attends you still.

The orient Sun now shed his ruddy Ray,
And Nature waken'd at the Sight of Day;
When lonely to the well frequented Wood,
The steady Youth his purpos'd Way pursu'd,
And soon his stragling Forresters he spies,
Who glad salute him with redoubled Cries;
Soon thro' the Wilds the cheerful Notes are borne,
And Crowds assemble to the regal Horn.
Around their much lov'd Chief with Zeal they throng,
And catch the Accents falling from his Tongue.
Much of his Dangers, and Escape enquire,
Lament his Absence, his Return admire.

Show by their whole Deportment, how they love,
And feast them with the Bounties of the Grove.

Mean while the Knight, with a malicious Care,
Studies the future Inquest to prepare:
Some he secures with Gold, with Threat'nings some,
And plans with Certainty a Brother's Doom.

Nor Gamelyn thoughtless, in the secret Shade,
Review'd the Danger threaten'd to his Head;
He weighs the bold Design with mental Poize,
His Men he hardens, and his Spies employs:
Inform'd by them, he hears the Trial set,
And vows to see the Court as soon as met,
Determin'd, with returning Day to wait
The Pow'r of Law, and throw the Dice of Fate.

Now, Night advancing far her Influence shed,
And the broad Moon illumin'd all the Glade;
When to their Rendevouze the Archers come,
And safe recline beneath the Sylvan Dome;
When thus the Youth-“Ye Friends, inur'd to Arms,
“Whom Friendship bends, and social Courage warms,

“This Night your Arrows and your Bows prepare:
“To morrow, nobler Toils demand your Care.
“You know, my Honour is engag'd away:
“You know, my Brother forfeits if I stay:
“For Freedom, boldly let us draw the Sword,
“Preserve my Friend, and justify my Word.
With one Acclaim the Summons they return;
All promise Faith, and for the Contest burn!

Now thro' the Foliage pierc'd the Eye of Day,
And dewy Di'monds spangl'd ev'ry Spray!
The Monarch calls—his Subjects at the Sound,
Arise and with uncommon Zeal surround.
With careful Eye he marks the ardent Train;
Then heads the March, and issues to the Plain.
Full Six score Foresters attend behind,
While the green Banner wantons in the Wind:
Adam, with cautious Eye, the Rear intends,
And to the Town the bold Procession bends.

Full time it was: For, heavy now with Care,
Sir Otto waited, fetter'd at the Bar.

The wayward Knight, who found that Gamelyn fled,
Resolv'd to take the Forfeit of his Head:
For now the manag'd Inquest was enclos'd,
To give the fatal Sentence he propos'd.

Where Maidstone smiles in chrystal Medway's Tide,
Arriv'd the Archer-Band, and noble Guide;
Who, sudden halts, and from the circling Rear
On Adam throws the Signal to appear.
“From hence, he cries, I see the Sheriff's State;
“E'en now, perhaps, my Brother tempts his Fate.
“Do thou proceed, inform how matters stand;
“Close shall I follow with my trusty Band.

Observant Adam to the Hall repairs,
Notes well the Scene, and back these Tidings bears,
That on the Bench the envious Knight was plac'd,
And at the Bar his Brother stood disgrac'd.
“By Heav'n, inflam'd, the gen'rous Youth reply'd,
“Well shall the Sheriff pay his new-blown Pride.
To whom, said Adam, “If I counsel right
“(So much thy Brother's Wrongs my Rage excite)

“With Freedom should the Sword of Vengeance go,
“Nor one, except Sir Otto, 'scape the Blow!
“No, Adam, no, the gen'rous Youth reply'd,
“Let Justice draw the Sword, but Reason guide.
“Secure the Doors; let me survey the Hall,
“And mark the Guilty, I have fix'd to fall.
“I sit as Judge and Sheriff for this Day;
“Be thou my Clerk—Good Adam, haste away!

His Men determin'd seize on ev'ry Gate,
While thro' the Crowd he bears his Brother's Fate,
Views his deliver'd Friend with joyful Eyes,
And from his Arms the shameful Bands unties.
To whom Sir Otto, half with Transport dumb,
Said, “Brother,—in a happy Hour you come;
“Ev'n now the Inquest sit upon my Head,
“And the perverted Law has doom'd me dead.
“Not so, said Gamelyn, Brother, e're we dine,
“Theirs be the Fate, which they intended thine!
“Some others too, the Hand of Pow'r shall feel,
“But foremost, he, from whom arose this Ill!

Then to the Judge,—“Thou Pageant-Form, come down,
“Justice by me disclaims thee for her Son:
“For once I venture to usurp thy Place,
“And save thy Sentence from its due Disgrace.

The haughty Magistrate with Anger burn'd,
Still kept his Seat, nor Answer least return'd;
When Gamelyn's Arm, ascending to his Head,
Beneath his Feet the frighten'd Victim laid:
The Rooks of Pow'r, the servile Slaves of Law,
Confus'd, the Insult on their Leader saw:
But durst not move; for round the Archers stood,
And each his Weapon held, prepar'd for Blood.
Then rising to the ministerial Throne,
His Hopes had compass'd, and his Valour won!
Sir Otto by his side distinguish'd set,
And Adam plac'd as Clerk, beneath his Feet.
He calls his hardy Band with Voice severe,
To bring the Judge and Sheriff to the Bar:
Strait for th' impanell'd Quest he sends away,
To join the Issue of the alter'd Day!

Then from his Train he forms a new Assize,
And tells them Justice on their Verdict lies.
Their Verdict they return with equal Breath,
And deem the Sheriff, Inquest, Judge to Death.

Then round the Hall, confus'd Disorder spred,
And all the Insolence of Pow'r was fled,
As Vipers, clasp'd within the circling Cage,
Between themselves exert their fruitless Rage;
So pierc'd the Judge the Sheriff fetter'd views,
The fearful Jury join in the Abuse.
Their different Looks bespeak alternate Wrongs,
And Eyes supply th' invective Wrath of Tongues.
The Sheriff low for Gamelyn's Mercy cries,
All Mercy the victorious Youth denies;
“Twice have I prov'd, Sir John, your wretched Faith,
“Twice hast thou doom'd me to inglorious Death;
“But now I trust the present Hour my own,
“Go thou, and count the Sands thy Glass must run!

A new-made Gibbet had the Knight prepar'd,
Nor guess'd, the Tree would be his own Reward.

Forth lead the Archers the allotted Crew,
While gathring Numbers flock the Scene to view.
Then to the Stake the trembling Wretches bind,
And leave their Forms to mingle with the Wind.

So ended this malicious Knight his Days,
In Falshood practis'd, and too proud with Ease,
So Justice paid the long Arrears she cast,
So fell a Father's Curse severe at last.
So rose the Brave, the Innocent was freed,
And dark Oppression met the Fate decreed.

By Friends attended with disclosing Day,
To Court the Victor Brothers shape their Way;
By potent Friends was there Sir Otto lov'd,
These he employs till Edward's Ear was mov'd.
Pleas'd with the Tale (so Heav'n defends the brave)
The generous Prince his gracious Pardon gave.
The South of Trent, of all his Forest Land,
Gave to the noble Youth the wide Command,
And to his Service took his social Train,
To guard his Conquests on the Gallick Main.

So the brave Youth by prudent Valour led,
His Lands recover'd and his Fortunes made;
Thro' ev'ry Hardship still superior rose,
True to his Friends, but fatal to his Foes!
Preserv'd a faithful Brother's Span of Life,
And doom'd to Death the Author of the Strife;
'Till Ease domestick softer Thoughts inspir'd,
And Love assum'd the Breast Ambition fir'd;
Then felt his yielding Heart the noblest Wound,
Then Venus first the captive Warrior bound,
From virtuous Eyes the Goddess threw the Dart,
While equal Bosoms felt the pleasing Smart.
By Hymen join'd they prov'd the gentle Flame;
Their Joys, their Wishes, and their Souls the same,
In honour'd Affluence they close their Days;
Vice lords its Hour,—but Virtue lives on Praise.

End of Gamelyn, or the Cook's Tale.

PROLOGUE, TO THE Man of Law's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Our Host, who view'd the Progress of the Sun,
Judg'd to a Point how far he had to run;
Found, they had us'd, to light them on their Way
A Fourth and more of his Diurnal Ray:
Whence, tho' not deep expert in learned Lore,
No sage Astronomer cou'd gather more.
Of April this he knew the eighteenth Day,
April, the show'ry Messenger of May!
And well he mark'd, that ev'ry Tree display'd,
Proportion'd to it's Rise, a Fall of Shade;
Whose Length was just in Quantity the same,
As was erect the Body, whence it came.

Hence cou'd he count, (nor vainly I admit,
Tho' from a Shadow he assum'd his Wit)
That now the Sun, who shone so clear and bright,
Had reach'd his forty-fifth Degree of Height;
And that the Hour was Ten, cou'd plain descry,
No Astrolabe consulting, but his Eye.
So suddenly, about he turns his Steed;
“Proceed, he cries, for sake of Heav'n, proceed!
“I warn you all, by Christ and by Saint John,
“A Fourth already of the Day is gone.
“It pains me to observe the Time you waste;
“The Time, that flies away with winged Haste;
“Can ought retard her, or in Durance keep?
“She passes, tho' we wake, or tho' we sleep.
“Swift as the Stream, that ne'er returns again,
“Descending from the Mountain to the Plain.
“'Tis wise, what one, call'd Seneca, has told;
“That Loss of Time is worse than Loss of Gold!
“Your Steed, tho' stole, again you may re-see!
“The Day, that was, clos'd never more to Be!

“No more to Be! than Malkin's Virgin Flow'r!
“Shou'd Malkin lose it in a careless Hour.

“Then let us use Dispatch. Sir Man of Law,
“Give us a Tale, a Tale without a Flaw!
“Acquit you of your Word, to join our Sport,
“And think my Sentence, a Decree of Court.
“You promis'd by my Judgment to abide.”
‘Brother, agreed! the Sergeant strait reply'd.
‘To break the Rule, I never once inclin'd;
‘A Word is binding, as a Parchment sign'd!
‘A Promise is an Obligation strong,
‘And may be term'd a Debt; a Debt of Tongue!
‘Besides such Law for others as we make
‘In Equity, from others we shou'd take.
‘This is my full Opinion on the Case;
‘This! tho' the Proof may bring me to Disgrace.
‘For not in Company to seem precise,
‘What pleasing Tale of Love should I devise?
‘Full, in my Way, our Chaucer stands alone,
‘All Ovid's Heroins has he made his own.

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‘And if you miss them, I affirm it, Brother,
‘In one Book, you will find them in another.
‘Nay, many a Dame he adds to Ovid's Store,
‘Full many a gentle Dame that sigh'd of Yore!
‘New is the Language, tho' the Story old;
‘Nor will I tell again, what he has told.

‘Alcyone, in Youth, he made his Theme,
‘Warn'd of the Fate of Ceyx in a Dream.
‘And, grown to Age, he drew with bolder Pen,
‘The Praise of Women, wrong'd by faithless Men.
‘A large Collection, if you chuse to read!
‘Of injur'd Females, that lament, or bleed.
‘There may you see, how chaste Lucretia died,
‘The deadly Dagger plunging in her Side!
‘How Thisbe breath'd her Passion thro' the Wall,
‘And fell, since Pyramus was doom'd to fall!
‘How Dido rag'd, when false Æneas fled,
‘His Sword the sad Companion of her Bed!
‘Her Plaint how Phillis to Demophoon sends,
‘And high in Air her beauteous Form suspends!

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‘The poison'd Gift how Deianira blam'd,
‘Nor wou'd have kill'd Alcides, but reclaim'd!
‘How wail'd Hermione her luckless Fates,
‘Forc'd, from the Man she loves, by him she hates.
‘Her golden Locks how Ariadne tore,
‘By Theseus left, on Naxos' desert Shore!
‘How Helen own'd a Pain, that damp'd her Joy,
‘The double Ill she brought to Greece and Troy!
‘Her Lord, how meek Briseis to reprove,
‘For that his Wrath was stronger than his Love!
‘How great Hypsipile makes humble Moan,
‘By Jason scorn'd, for all her Lemnian Throne;
‘Whose Heart Medea failing to retain,
‘She left him to deplore their Children slain.
‘How Hero plac'd the Love-alluring Light,
‘Thy Guide, Leander, thro' the stormy Night;
‘But when she spy'd thee, breathless on the Wave,
‘Down from her Tow'r she sought one wat'ry Grave!
‘How Laodamia urg'd her forceful Plea,
‘Care of thy self, oh! take, 'tis Care of me!

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‘How Hypermnestra spar'd her Husband's Life,
‘And nobly lost the Daughter in the Wife!
‘How sage Penelope her Spouse incites,
‘He comes, who loves; Ulysses comes, not writes!
‘And how her Life Alcestes greatly ends,
‘To save her Lord, deserted by his Friends!
‘For virtuous Wives, as all the Fair attest,
‘Our Bard displays, and praises with the Best.

‘Yet never wou'd he write, nor cou'd approve,
‘How Canace indulg'd fraternal Love!
‘How Tereus rob'd a Sister of her Tongue;
‘Well by his Wife dismember'd for the Wrong.
‘How his own Tyro curst Salmoneus try'd;
‘How Byblis Caunus woo'd, too-near ally'd!
‘By Stealth how Myrrha with her Father lay,
‘But scarce escap'd his Rage at Dawn of Day!
‘How from Antiochus his Daughter fled,
‘Drag'd by the Hair to his incestuous Bed!

These he omits, as Loves unworthy Praise;
‘Abominations foul of ancient Days!

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‘What, from the Pen of easy Ovid, scapes,
‘Where, various Bodies change, to various Shapes;
‘Where ev'ry Age, is search'd, and ev'ry Clime,
‘To bring Creation down to Cæsar's Time.
‘Nor mean I here such Scandal to reherse,
‘Nor stain with such Impurity my Verse.
‘Verse, did I say, unpractis'd to compose!
‘My Prose accept, or Verse ally'd to Prose!
‘A Man of Law with Ease you will excuse,
‘If rude his Rhyme; Astrœa, is his Muse.
‘Little, she knows, to Periods what belongs,
‘Nor aims at Strains as soft as Ovid's Songs.
‘Yet shall she try, no Matter tho' she fail,
‘To tell of Love, a not dishonest Tale;
‘So, as when Philomela leaves to sing,
‘The Thrush presumes to hail the common Spring!’
Then smiling on our Host, with sober Cheer,
He thus began, as you shall after hear.

End of the Prologue.

104

CONSTANTIA:

OR, The Man of Law's TALE

By Mr. BROOKE.

Hence, Want, ungrateful Visitant, adieu,
Pale Empress hence, with all thy meager Crew,
Sour Discontent, and mortify'd Chagrin;
Lean hollow Care, and self-corroding Spleen,
Distress and Woe, sad Parents of Despair,
With wringing Hands, and ever rueful Air;
The Tread of Dun, and Bum's alarming Hand,
Dire as the Touch of Circe's circling Wand,
Keen Hunger with his sharp, but famish'd Eye,
And dusky Theft, a desp'rate Prompter nigh,
While Agues shudder to the whist'ling Gale,
And jointly, Law and Infamy assail.

105

But worse, oh worse, than all the hideous Train,
Hot-mouth'd Reproach, and saucy writh'd Disdain;
These in the Rear of thy Assembly wait,
Still point the Anguish, and augment the Weight.

The worst Oppression, who, ah who, could bear,
If Virtue, hov'ring Angel, was not there?
Where Poverty her blasting Progress bends,
The Goddess with superior Wing attends.
Around the Fair her blest Associates play,
Bask in her Eye, and whiten in her Ray.
Bright Purity, with firm unalter'd Cheek;
The Mild, the Kind, the Gentle, and the Meek,
Humility's benignly placid Grace,
And Innocence with sweet seraphic Face;
Calm Piety, that smiles amidst the Storm,
And Charity with boundless Wishes warm.

Bold in Front to guard the heav'nly Band,
Behold the masculine Adherents stand!
Patience with Atlantean Shoulders spred,
Hail Temperance on thrifty Viands fed;

106

Firm Fortitude, unknowing how to yield,
And Perseverance with his batter'd Shield,
And honest Industry, whose early Toil
Wins Health and Plenty from the labour'd Soil.
The genuine Arts behind the Goddess wait,
Her Reign illustrate, and improve her State;
With Eye elate here Contemplation soars,
And Learning piles his intellectual Stores;
Here mental Sciences arranging shine,
Here manual Crafts the various Task design;
While Diligence the busy Finger plies,
And wing'd, from Rank to Rank, Invention flies;
Such wide Extremes on Indigence attend,
There Vice assails, the Virtues here defend;
Below—the Gloom of ev'ry Passion storms;
Above—calm Virtue mod'rates and reforms,
Here, highly elevate—there deep depress,
And give or Bliss,—or Anguish in Excess.

Hail Virtue! chaste eternal Beauty, hail!
Still on the Foe, O Goddess, still prevail;

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The World, e're fram'd, lay open to thy View;
You form'd the Whole, and shall again renew:
E're I thy arduous pleasing Toils decline,
Be Want, ah, still be each Disaster mine,
Till ev'n Oppression be it self subdu'd,
Nor yet a Wish for Wealth, or Pow'r intrude.

Nor be the Poor alone thy fav'rite Care;
Fly, fly to Courts, and let the Mighty share:
The Silken Lethargy at once awake,
Debauch from his intemp'rate Opiate shake,
Thence ev'ry Vice, and ev'ry Folly drive,
That sting, or glitter round the gorgeous Hive;
Before thy Touch let Insolence retire,
And Vanity, an empty Breath, expire;
Hipocrisy cast off the fair Disguise,
And starting, in his native Gloom arise.
Now, Goddess, entring, view the Dome of State,
Do thou inform, and give me to relate;
Let Demons obvious to my Eye appear,
(Which known, could sure find no Admittance here)

108

Amid the buzzing, busy, idle Croud,
The mix'd Assembly of the Mean and Proud,
See, Treason smiles, a Suitor to his King;
See, Promise flutters on a Cypress Wing,
Her Pinion like autumnal Foliage falls,
And on the Pavement Disappointment crawls;
A friendly Aspect Enmity assumes,
Beneath Applause, deep lurking Envy glooms.
The tempting Mammon Subornation shows,
And in the Patriot's Zeal Dissention glows.

Oppression there with gently winning Grace,
And Ignorance with solemn thinking Face,
And Pride with mortify'd and Christian Guise,
And Infidelity with Saintly Eyes,
Four Rival-Candidates, their Monarch sue;
Two for the Bench, and for the Mitre Two.

Lo there Ambition, from his Height elate!
And Pleasure lolling on a Couch of State!
On These the Pageantry of Pomp attends;
To these the idolizing Tumult bends;

109

The Poor, the Rich, the Peasant, and the Peer,
And all Religions join in Worship here.
Ambition reaching from his airy Stand,
Grasps at a Globe that shuns his desp'rate Hand;
Around the glitt'ring Sphere, confus'dly gay,
Crowns, Truncheons, Gems, and trophy'd Radiance lay;
But changing with alternate Light and Shade,
The Lures appear, and vanish, shine, and fade;
Vain as the cloudy Meteor of the Morn,
Which Fancy forms, and transient Rays adorn.

The prime Rewards four suppliant Sons of Fame,
Lust, Rapine, Violence, and Slaughter claim;
And tho' essential Happiness is due,
For Toys the Wise, for Toys the Virtuous sue.
Deluded Men, The ready Ambush fly!
Dire lurking Deaths behind Ambition lye!
The mourning Block, keen Axe, and racking Wheel,
The poison'd Goblet, and the bosom'd Steel.

Here Pleasure on her Velvet-Couch reclines,
Smiles to undo, and in Destruction shines;

110

With seeming Negligence displays her Charms;
The Strong she withers, and the Steel'd disarms:
Imagination, specious Handmaid, waits,
And serves a Pomp of visionary Cates:
The Sorc'ress still essays the fresh Repasts;
But mock'd eternally, she feeds, and fasts.
Around her Couch unnumber'd Vot'ries meet,
And wish to share th' imaginary Treat;
Devour each Morsel with desiring Eye,
And for large Draughts of fancy'd Nectar sigh;
A thousand Nymphs of wanton sprightly Mien,
Trip round the Sofa, and amuse their Queen;
With Transports she surveys the darling Train,
All Daughters of her light fermenting Brain:
Here Laughter, Mirth, and Dalliance unite,
Illusive Joy, and volatile Delight,
Conceits, Sports, Gambols, Titillations gay,
Hopes that allure, and Projects that betray;
Prime Sister of the inessential Bands,
Erect, persuasive Expectation stands;

111

On each Pursuit she flourishes with Grace,
And gives a Butterfly to lead the Chace;
Or wafts a Bubble on the parting Gale,
And bids surrounding Multitudes assail;
With Sweets the fond Pursuit alone is fraught,
The Game still vanishes, when once it's caught:
Vain is the Joy, but not the Anguish vain,
And empty Pleasure gives essential Pain.
Couch'd as a Tyger, watchful to surprize,
Grim Death beneath the false Enchantress lies;
The Fiends around invisibly engage,
Guilt stings, Pains rack, and Disappointments rage;
Aches, Asthma's, Cholicks, Gouts, Convulsions, Rheums,
Remorse that gnaws, and Languor that consumes.

Far other Train apparent Queen! you lead,
True Bliss attends, tho' arduous Toils precede;
Serene thy Bosom, tho' thy Brow severe,
Pain points thy Path, but Heav'n is in thy Rear;
Wondrous the Influence thy Pow'r supplies,
Where Triumphs only from Oppression rise;

112

Peace springs from Passion, and from Weakness Might;
Calm Ease from Travel, and from Pain, Delight;
No Sweets that vanish, and no Gusts that cloy,
Clear is the Rapture, and serene the Joy;
Reflection culls from ev'ry Labour past,
And gives the same eternal Bliss to last.
Thus by long Trial, and severe Distress,
You Virtue truely, tho' severely, bless;
Thro' each Tradition, each recording Page,
Thro' ev'ry Nation, and thro' ev'ry Age;
From purpled Monarchs, to the rural Hind,
By Pain you purify'd, by Toil refin'd;
The mightier Weight thy fav'rite Heroes bore,
Chief you depress'd, whom chief you meant should soar,
Still with the Foe, gave Forces to prevail,
And with this Moral form'd the following Tale.

While yet the Turk his early Claim avow'd,
And rul'd, beneath his Scepter Judah bow'd;
A Set of worthy, wealthy Merchants chose
The World for Trade, and Sion for Repose.

113

Here they select the Gems of brightest Rays,
Rich Stuffs, wrought Silks, and Golden Tissues blaze;
Thro' ev'ry Climate, and to ev'ry Gale,
They launch the Cargo, and expand the Sail;
Wide, with their Name, their Reputation grew,
And to their Mart concurring Chapmen drew.

The Lure of Novelty, and Thirst of Gain,
Now points their Passage o'er the Midland Main:
The Tiber now their spumy Keels divide,
And stem the Flow of his descending Tide.
To Rome, imperial Rome, the Traders came;
Rome heard the Voice of their preceding Fame:
Free Mart, and splendid Mansion she affords;
Joy crown'd their Nights, and Elegance their Boards.

With mutual Chat they gratify Desire;
What's curious now relate, and now enquire;
Alike for Knowledge, and for Wealth they trade,
And are with Usury in both repaid.
But Fame surpriz'd them with a Wonder new,
Beyond what Times of brightest Record drew,

114

The Poet's Fancy, or the Lover's Tongue;
And thus the darling Excellence she sung.

To crown our Monarch's Age with fond Delight,
His Cares alleviate, and his Toils requite,
Beyond whate'er paternal Wish could crave,
Indulgent Heav'n a peerless Infant gave:
The softer Sex her beauteous Body forms,
But her bright Soul each manly Virtue warms;
Youth without Folly, Greatness without Pride,
And all that's firm, to all that's sweet ally'd.
Rich as the Land by sacred Promise bless'd,
Lies the fair Vale of her expanded Breast;
Mild on a Parian Pillar turns her Head,
Her Front, like Lebanon, divinely spred;
There sit the Chaste, the Placid, and the Meek,
And Morn smiles fresh upon her open Cheek.
Babes learn Distinction at Constantia's Sight,
And wither'd Age revives to strange Delight;
Tumultuous Wishes breath along her Way,
Hands rise, Tongues bless, and centring Eyes survey!

115

All run to bend the voluntary Knee,
The Blind to hear her, and the Deaf to see.
Ah! were she born to universal Sway,
How gladly would the willing World obey?

And now with wealthy Manufacture stow'd,
Launch'd on the Tide their freighted Vessels rode,
The Pendants vainly point the fav'ring Gale,
Court the weigh'd Anchor, and the op'ning Sail.
Till first the fair Perfection they beheld,
Who all Report (in fatal Hour) excell'd:
For Syria then they ply the lab'ring Oar,
And the crook'd Keels divide their native Shore.

Exulting now they touch the fav'rite Land,
Unlade, and moor along the yielding Strand.
Now duteous, on their youthful Sultan wait,
Unfold new Treasures, and new Tales relate.
With usual Grace, and curious Ear he hears,
With usual Courtesy, and Bounty cheers;
The strange, the wondrous Narratives admires,
And all that's foreign, all that's new requires.

116

Ah, hapless Prince! thy farther Search restrain,
Couch'd in the Tale, Death lurks to entertain;
Constantia's Charms their raptur'd Tongues disclose,
In ev'ry Word some kindling Beauty glows;
Her Form, her Features, Mien, and Soul they breathe;
Unpraise all Praise, and leave all Terms beneath.

Strong Eloquence can picture to the Blind,
Create new Forms, and people all the Mind;
Can pain, or mitigate, can heal, or wound,
Enchant with Sentences, and kill with Sound.
The fancy'd Sweets his Ear impatient, drinks;
Deep on his Soul the imag'd Beauty sinks;
Thro' all his Thoughts, his Pow'rs, she lives, she reigns,
Pants in each Pulse, and thrills along his Veins.

Sure thro' the Tracts of yon' celestial Maze,
Where mystic Planets dance, and Glories blaze;
More Wonders typical impress the Sky,
Than e'er was trac'd with Astrologic Eye:
There, haply, e're his natal Hour express'd,
First burn'd the Flame that glow'd within his Breast.

117

There might the Nymph with previous Beauty bloom,
With previous Languishment the Youth consume,
Expire the Victim of successless Care,
Die e're he liv'd, and e're he lov'd, despair.
There the dear friendly Stream e're Julius bled,
Great Brutus to his dearer Country shed;
With destin'd Tyranny there Pride enslaves,
With destin'd Virtue there the Patriot saves;
There Pompey glow'd for Freedom and for Fame,
There Socrates, of Greece the Pride and Shame:
Alcides there each horrid Monster slew;
There triumph'd Sampson, the heroic Jew;
There All, or doom'd to save, or to destroy
The Chiefs who fought at Thebes, or fought at Troy.

Long mourn'd the Youth, with secret Woe opprest,
The latent Vulture prey'd within his Breast;
Constrain'd at length, nor able to sustain
The wasting Malady, and mental Pain;
The Sage, the bearded Pillars of his State,
He calls, and privily unfolds his Fate;

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No Mean, he cries, my cruel Stars assign,
Swift Death, or else Constantia must be mine.

Alternate, each their Hopes, or Fears disclose,
Invent, reject, and now again propose;
While some with mystic Rites of wondrous Art,
Engage to gain the sympathetic Heart;
By philter'd Science, and infernal Charms,
To win the bright Perfection to his Arms:
Th' abhorrent Scheme his gen'rous Thoughts disdain,
Resolv'd to die, or justly to obtain;
And all their Arguments, howe'er renew'd,
In Rites of Nuptial Sanctitude conclude.
But here again new Obstacles appear'd,
And much for this their latest Hope they fear'd;
Fear'd, that Diversity of Faith, might prove
Alike Diversity, and Breach in Love;
Nor the fair Christian e'er consent to wed
A Prince in Macon's sacred Precepts bred.
“The Monarch then, ah! wherefore doubt my Friends,
“Why yet dispute where Love and Life depends?

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“That Faith must sure, have most prevailing Charms,
“That gives Constantia to my circling Arms;
“No Obstacles shall bar, no Doubts deterr;
“Nor will I think, that she was form'd to err.”

The Voice determin'd, and imperial Eye,
Leave no Pretence for Courtiers to reply:
With the fond Speed of Love's Impatience warm'd,
Now Embassies are sent, and Treaties form'd;
All zealous to promote the Cause divine,
The Pope, the Church, and Christian Pow'rs combine;
The Royal, long-reluctant Parents yield,
And Contracts are by mutual Proxy seal'd.

High was the Trust the Regal Writings bore,
And solemn the attesting Parties swore,
That the young Syrian, and his Barons bold,
Each Sex, and State, the Infant, and the Old,
Should all Messiah's hallow'd Faith embrace,
And bright Constantia be the Bond of Grace.

We list not here of pompous Phrase to say,
What order'd Equipage prepares the Day;

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Grooms, Prelates, Peers, and Nymphs, a shining Train,
To wait the lovely Victim o'er the Main:
All Rome attend in Wish the lovely Maid;
And Heav'n, their universal Vows invade.

At length the Day, the woful Day arrives,
And ev'ry Face of wonted Cheer deprives;
The fatal Hour admits no fond Delay,
That shall the Joy from ev'ry Heart convey.
Ye Men of Rome! your parting Glory mourn;
Far from your Sight your Darling shall be torn:
No more the Morn with usual Smiles arise,
Or with Constantia bless your longing Eyes;
Of ev'ry Tongue, of ev'ry Pen the Theme,
The daily Subject, and the nightly Dream.
But oh, Constantia! Say, thou fair Distress'd,
What Woes that Hour thy lovely Soul possess'd?
Its native Cheek the bright Carnation fled,
And charg'd with Grief, reclin'd thy beauteous Head;
To Lands unknown those Limbs must now repair,
Nurs'd in the Down of fond paternal Care;

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Peace spread thy nightly Couch to sweet Repose,
Delight around thy smiling Form arose,
Each Scene familiar to thy Eye appear'd,
And Custom long thy native Soil endear'd;
Eas'd by thy Bounty, at thy Sight exil'd,
Grief was no more, or in thy Presence smil'd,
Each rising Wish, thy glad Attendants seiz'd,
To give thee Pleasure, every Heart was pleas'd;
But now to strange, to foreign Climes convey'd,
Strange Objects must thy loathing Sense invade,
Strange Features, to thy weeping Eyes appear,
Strange Accents pierce thy undelighted Ear,
In distant unacquainted Bondage tied,
The gilded Slave of Insolence, and Pride,
Perhaps of Form uncouth, and Temper base,
Thy Lord shall clasp thee with abhorr'd Embrace.

Thus fad the Fair revolv'd, soft Sorrows flow,
And all her sighing Soul was loos'd to Woe,
“Father! She cried, your fond, your wretched Child,
“And You my Mother! You my Mother mild!

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My Parents dear, beneath whose kindly View,
Bless'd by whose Looks, your cherish'd Infant grew,
When far, O far, from your Embraces torn,
Will you then think a Wretch like me was born?
Shall then your Child some sad Remembrance claim?
And some dear Drops embalm Constantia's Name?
Your Face, (ah cruel Fortune can it be!)
These Eyes shall never, never, never see;
For ever parted by the rolling Main,
I now must feel a lordly Husband's Chain;
From ev'ry Friend, from every Joy remove,
And the rough Yoke of rude Barbarians prove:
But so may Heav'n the precious Issue bless,
And all find Happiness through my Distress;
Woman was doom'd ere yet the World began,
The Prey of Sorrow, and the Slave of Man.

She could no more, her Voice by Sobs supprest,
And Tears pour'd forth in Anguish told the rest.
Wide through the Croud the sad Contagion flew,
Each hoary Beard is drench'd with mournful Dew,

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In short'ning Throbs ten thousand Bosoms rise,
Grief show'rs its Tempest from ten thousand Eyes,
Along the Shore the deep'ning Groans extend,
And louder Shrieks the cloudy Concave rend;
Not through old Rome when Desolation reign'd,
And bleeding Senators her Forum stain'd,
Not in the Wreck of that all dismal Night,
When Ilion tumbled from her tow'ry height,
Such utt'ring Plaints the deep Despair betray'd,
As now attend the dear departing Maid.
To the tall Ship with slow desponding Tread,
All drown'd in Grief the beauteous Victim's led,
She turn'd, and with an aching wistful Look,
A long Farewel of every Field she took,
Adieu! to all the melting Croud she cry'd;
Adieu! Adieu! the melting Croud replied:
Her launching Bark, the mournful Notes pursue,
And ecchoing Hills return, Adieu! Adieu!

Here let us leave the Virgin on the Main,
With all her Peerage, and her pompous Train;

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To Syria let the swifter Muse repair,
And say what Cheer prepares her Welcome there.

The Dame, from whom his Birth the Prince deriv'd,
Imperial Dowager, had yet survived,
Ambitious, greedy of supreme Controul,
And born with all the Tyrant in her Soul,
At filial Government she long repin'd,
Nor yet the Reins of secret Rule resign'd.
Her savage Sentiments her Sex belie'd,
And vers'd in Wiles with deepest Statesmen vied,
Yet o'er her softning Tongue, and soothing Face,
The subtle Varnish spread with easy Grace;
The Sage discern'd, but still confess'd her Sway,
And whom their Hearts detest, their Fears obey.
Tenacious Zeal her Prophet's Lore revered,
The Practice scorn'd, but to the Text adhered,
And far as Faith with Fury could inflame,
She was indeed a most religious Dame.

When she her Son's determin'd Bent perceiv'd,
Her Breasts with cruel Agitation heav'd,

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Her Call, each hoary, each experienc'd Friend,
In Haste, and midnight Privacy attend;
When dire, amid the dusky Throng she rose,
And from her Tongue contagious Poison flows.

“Ye Peers! ye Pillars of our falling State!
“Too faithful Subjects of a Prince ingrate,
“A Son, whom these detesting Breasts have fed,
“A Serpent grown; to your Destruction bred;
“Say, shall a single Hand such Patriots awe?
“Insult your Prophet, and supplant your Law?

First Heav'n! be all the Bonds of Nature broke,
“E'er I assume the curs'd the Christian Yoke;
“For, what import these innovating Rites,
“But here a living Death of all Delights?
“Such Threats, as Penitence can ne'er appease,
“The Body's Penance, and the Mind's Disease?
“Yet, were I of some faithful Hearts secure,
“Not such the Malady, but we can cure.”

She spoke, and all with swift Compliance swear,
The glorious Deed with all their Powers to dare,

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Her Charge though ne'er so bloody to fulfill,
Though ne'er so dang'rous to effect her Will.

“Doubt not a Birth, she cry'd, so well conceiv'd,
“Great Acts are more by Fraud, than Force atchiev'd;
“To gain the Conquest we must seem to yield,
“And feign to fly, that we may win the Field;
“Let each in publick wear a Christian Face,
“And counterfeit the saintly Signs of Grace,
“What though our Skin the sprinkling Priest baptize,
“Our Skin's unsullied, while our Hearts despise,
“Not such the Tricks our bolder Hands shall play,
“When Revels end the unsuspecting Day,
“Nor such the Stream our purpling Points shall shed,
“When we shall, in our Turn, baptize with Red.

Ah Sex! still sweet, or bitter to Extreme,
Gloomy as Night, or bright as Morning Beam,
No Fiend may with a Female's Fraud compare,
No Angel's Purity, like Woman's Fair,
To save, or damn, for Bliss, or Ruin giv'n,
Who has thee feels a Hell, or finds a Heav'n.

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Smooth as the Surface of the dimpled Main,
While brooding Storms the gath'ring Ruin rein,
Her Son, with dire dissembling Leer she seeks,
And in the Depth of smiling Malice speaks.

“My Child! tho' froward Age is over wise,
“Let no Offence against a Parent rise,
“Long Habits gain a Privilege from Time,
“And frequent Custom mellows ev'ry Crime;
“Repugnant hence I dar'd to thwart your Will,
“I fear'd the Novelty, I fear'd the Ill;
“But now convinc'd by Christ's superior Grace,
“His Law I rev'rence, and his Faith embrace.
“Bless'd be thy Bed! thy Bridal Transports bless'd!
“Nor you refuse a Mother's fond Request,
“Mine be the Joy to entertain the Fair,
“To form the Festival be mine the Care,
“To show the Peers who on thy Bride attend,
“As she in Beauty, we in Love transcend.”

The Royal Youth suspense in Wonder stood,
Joy held his Voice, and Rapture thrill'd his Blood,

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Around her Knees his prostrate Arms he threw,
And duteous Tears distill'd the grateful Dew;
Her Son she rais'd, all innocent of Ill,
And smiling kiss'd, whom soon she meant to kill.

At length the Bride and all her solemn Train,
Pass'd o'er the Danger of the Midland-Main;
The Main is pass'd, but not the Danger o'er,
The Sea less cruel than the Syrian Shore.
Applauding Crouds the landed Beauty greet,
And Judah's Peers in rich Procession meet,
Great was the Throng, and splendid the Array,
And Guards arranging lined the glitt'ring Way.
Such were the Triumphs of Imperial Rome,
When Conquest led some darling Victor home,
While meeting Millions his Approach withstand,
And Walls, and Trees, and clamber'd Roofs are mann'd.

All gem'd in Ornaments of curious Mode,
Gay in the Van, the false Sultana rode;
Oft to her Breast she clasp'd the heav'nly Maid.
And wond'ring oft with cruel Gaze survey'd.

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Last came the Sultan, royal, hapless Youth,
Grace in his Form, and in his Bosom Truth,
The last he came, for tim'rous Love controll'd,
He fear'd, and long'd, and trembled to behold;
A faint Salute his fault'ring Voice supply'd,
Scarce, welcome! O! divinely Fair, he cry'd;
He blush'd, and sigh'd, and gaz'd with wav'ring View,
Nor dares to hope the blissful Vision true.

Thus onward to a neighb'ring Town they far'd,
In purpos'd Pomp, and regal State prepar'd;
And here the old maternal Fiend invites,
To order'd Feasts, and dearly bought Delights.
Down sit the Guests, triumphing Clarions blow,
Drums beat, Mirth sings, and brimming Goblets flow,
In boundless Revel ev'ry Care is drown'd,
And Clamour shouts, and Freedom laughs around.

Ah hapless State! of ev'ry human Mind,
Wrapt in the present, to the future blind;
In the gay Vapour of a lucky Hour,
Light Folly mounts, and looks with Scorn on Power.

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Nor sees how swift the Tides of Fortune flow,
The swelling Happiness, and ebbing Woe;
That Man, should ne'er indulge, or Bliss, or Care,
The Prosp'rous triumph, or the Wretch despair,
So close, so sudden each Reverse succeeds,
And Mischief treads where-e'er Success preceeds.

And now the Night with brooding Horrors still,
Gloom'd from the Brow of each adjacent Hill,
Slow heav'd her Bosom with distemper'd Breath,
And o'er her Forehead hung the Weights of Death.
Opprest with Sleep, and drown'd in fumy Wine,
The prostrate Guards their regale Charge resign,
But far within, still wakeful to Delight
The Prince and Peers protract the festal Night;
When from the Portal, lo! a sudden Gloom,
Projects its Horrors through the spacious Room,
Fearful and dark the ruffian Bands appear,
The dire Sultana storming in the Rear.
The bloody Task invading Treason plies,
Quick, and at once alarm'd the Nobles rise,

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But These, as Faith or Faction led, divide,
And Traitors most, with ent'ring Traytors side;
Boards, Bowls and Seats o'erturn'd the Pavement strow.
Of Blood, with Wine the mingling Currents flow;
Vain is the Fear that wings their Feet for Flight,
They fall who basely fly or bravely fight,
With Screams and Groans the ecchoing Courts resound,
And gasping Romans bite the trait'rous Ground.

Say, Royal Syrian! in that Hour of Death,
Say, didst thou tamely then resign thy Breath?
Surprize and Shame, and Love and boundless Rage,
Flash from his Eyes and in his Breast engage;
Threatning aloft, his flaming Steel he drew,
And swift to save his lov'd Constantia flew,
Before his Bride a beauteous Bulwark stands,
Now presses on, and backwards bears the Bands;
Bold to his Aid surviving Romans spring,
Some Syrians too could dare to join their King,
Invaded late, they in their Turn invade,
And Traitors are with mutual Death repaid.

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But what may Courage, what may Strength avail,
Where still o'erpow'ring Multitudes assail?
Where Number with encreasing Number grows,
And ev'ry Sword must match a thousand Foes?
As melting Snows with gradual Waste subside,
So sink the Warriors from their Hero's Side;
Thin'd are the Remnants of his bleeding Train,
And scarce, but scarce th' unequal Strife sustain,
Their Veins exhausted, and o'ertoil'd their Might,
And strugling, but to fall the last, they fight.

The Monarch thus on ev'ry side distress'd,
And Hope extinguish'd in his valiant Breast,
Turn'd to his Queen, he sent the parting Look,
And brief th' eternal, last Adieu he took.
“Since here, he cry'd, our hapless Loves must end,
“Where this Arm fails, may mightier Heav'n defend:
“This is my last, my only, fond Desire,
“Too bless'd am I, who in thy Cause expire.
So saying, with recruited Pow'rs he glows,
Exalted, treads, and overlooks his Foes:

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Of more than mortal Size the Warrior seems,
And Terror from his Eye imperial, streams.
The circling Host his single Voice defies,
Amid the Throng, with Fury wing'd, he flies;
Deep bites his Sword, in Heaps on Heaps they fall,
Hands, Arms, and Heads bespread the sanguin'd Hall,
Untir'd with Toil, resistless in his Course,
Disdain gave Fury, and Despair gave Force:
As here, and there, his conqu'ring Steps he bends,
Down his fair Form the purpling Stream descends,
Exhausted Nature wou'd persuade to yield;
But Courage still tenacious, holds the Field.
As when the Lamp its wav'ring Light essays,
The Source consum'd, that fed the vital Blaze,
Extinguish'd now its kindly Flame appears,
And now aloft a livelier Radiance rears;
Subsides by Fits, by Fits again aspires,
And bright, but doubtful, burn its fainting Fires;
Till recollected to one Force of Light,
Sudden she flashes into endless Night.

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So the brave Youth the Blaze of Life renews,
Reels, stands, defends, attacks, and still subdues;
Till ev'ry Vein, and ev'ry Channel drain'd,
One last Effort his valiant Arm sustain'd:
As Light'ning swift, he sped the latest Blow,
And greatly fell, expiring on his Foe.
As shou'd an Oak within some Village stand,
Young, tall, and strait, the Fav'rite of the Land,
Beneath the Dews of Heav'n sublime he grows
Beneath his Shade, the Weary'd find Repose;
To deck his Boughs, each Morn the Maidens rise,
And Youths around his Form contest the Prize;
Yet haply if a sudden Storm descend,
Sway'd by the Blast, his beauteous Branches bend;
But vig'rous, to their tow'ring Height recoil,
Maintain the Combat, and outbrave the Toil;
Till the red Bolt with level'd Ruin shoots,
And nuts the pillar'd Fabrick from the Roots;
Swift falls the Beauty o'er a Length of Ground,
The Nymphs and Swains incessant mourn around.

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So did the Youth with living Form excell,
So fair, so tall, and so lamented, fell;
Relenting Traytors would revive the Dead,
And weep the Blood their ruthless Weapons shed:
One tender Pang the dire Sultana felt,
And Nature, spite of Hell, compels to melt.

While sudden thus each bloody Arm suspends,
And round their Prince the satiate Tumult bends,
Regardless of her Fate, Constantia goes
Thro' pointed Javelins, and a Host of Foes;
Amaze before the daring Virgin yields,
And Innocence from ev'ry Weapon shields;
Till mourning by the great Remains she stood,
And o'er her Lover pour'd the copious Flood.
“Ah, valiant Arm! a Waste of Worth in vain!
“Ah, Royal Youth, she cry'd, untimely slain!
“Oh! had I perish'd, e're I reach'd thy Shore,
“The Surge devour'd, or watry Monsters tore,
“To bless the World your Worth had yet surviv'd,
“Nor I, too fatally belov'd, arriv'd.

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“Tis I, who have this dear Effusion shed;
“For Me, for Me, a luckless Bride, you bled.
So saying—furious, the Sultana cries.
Strike; strike; the Source of all our Mischief dies;”
Yes, strike, the bright, th' intrepid Maid replies.
But vainly This consents, or That commands:
Heav'n check'd their Hearts, and Pity bound their Hands;
At once a thousand Javelins rise in Air;
A thousand Wishes whisper,—ah, forbear;
Recoiling Arms the bloody Task refuse,
And Beauty with resistless Charm subdues.
Alone, relentless, the Sultana cries,
“'Tis well, the Death she wish'd, may still suffice:
“Hence with that Form, that knows so well to reign,
“Hence with the Witch, and plunge her in the Main;
“Her Passage thence to Rome she may explore,
“And tell her Welcome on the Syrian Shore.
So saying, quick to a selected Band
She gave to execute the dire Command;

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Reluctant to the Charge, they yet obey,
And to the Shore the mourning Fair convey;
Slow as she mov'd, soft Sorrows bathe the Ground,
Her Guards too melt, and pitying weep around,
Tho' vers'd in Blood, detest the stern Commands,
And feel their Hearts rebellious to their Hands.
When now upon th' appointed Beach they stood,
That look'd with Horror o'er the deep'ning Flood.
Each eyed his Fellow, with relenting Look,
And Each to Each the cruel Task forsook;
With distant Awe the heav'nly Maid survey,
Nor once her Harm in Act or Thought essay.
The still Suspence at length their Leader broke,
And bow'd before the trembling Beauty, spoke.
“O thou! endow'd with more than mortal Charms,
“Who ev'ry Foe of all his Force disarms,
“Say, how shall we our Pow'r or Will employ;
“Where both are weak, to spare thee, or destroy?
“Both impotent alike, our Pow'r and Will,
“The Means to save Thee, or the Thoughts to kill?

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“Yet one Extreme may cruelly remain,
“To yield Thee haply to the pitying Main,
“And Heav'n, who form'd thee so divinely fair,
“If Heav'n has Pow'r, will sure have Will to spare.
He said; the rest assent, and to the Bay
With secret Step the Virgin-Bride convey.
Convenient here a Roman Bark they find,
They hoist the hasty Canvas to the Wind:
The Bark with Roman Wealth and Plenty stow'd,
Now launching with the lonely Sailor rode;
The Gale from Shore with ready Rapture blew,
And to her Vessel bore the last Adieu.

Now, stain'd with Blood, the self-convicted Night
Fled from the Face of all-enquiring Light;
And Morn, unconscious of the murd'rous Scene,
O'er Syria, guilty Syria, rose serene.
The Mountains sink before Constantia's Eyes,
Wing'd o'er the Surge, her bounding Gally flies;
From Sight of Land, and human Face conveys,
The Skies alone above, and all around the Seas.

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“Go, lovely Mariner! Imperial Fair!
“The warring Winds, and angry Ocean dare;
“Strange Climes and Spheres (a lone Advent'rer) view,
“New to the Main, and to Misfortune new;
“Without the Chart, or Polar Compass steer,
“Nor Storms, in which the stoutest tremble, fear.
“But ill, those Limbs for gentle Office form'd,
“And in the Down of nightly Softness warm'd,
“Shall now, obsequious to the ruder Gale,
“Command the frozen Cord, and pond'rous Sail;
“Shall now, beneath the watry Sky obscure,
“The nightly Damp, and piercing Blast endure.

Thus all disconsolate, and sore distress'd,
And Sorrow heaving in her beauteous Breast,
Down sinks the Fair, her Hands in Anguish rise,
And up to Heav'n she lifts her streaming Eyes.
“O, Thou! she said, whence ev'ry Being rose,
“In whom they safe exist, and soft repose;
“Fix'd in whose Pow'r, and patent to whose Eye,
“Immense, those copious Worlds of Wonders lye;

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“To me, the meanest of thy Works descend;
“To me, the last of ev'ry Being, bend;
“Since not exempt, in thy Paternal Care,
“The lowest triumph, and minutest share.
“Thy Subjects all, and all their Sov'reign know,
“The Seas that eddy, and the Winds that blow;
“The Winds thy ruling Inspiration tell;
“The Seas, exulting in thy Presence swell:
“O'er these, o'er those (Supreme) do thou preside;
“For I desire no other Star to guide:
“In Want, and Weakness, be thy Pow'r display'd,
“And thou assist, where else no Arm can aid.
“But if (as surely ev'ry Mortal must,)
“If now I hasten to my native Dust,
“From the dread Hour, and this devouring Deep,
“The Spark of Deathless Animation keep,
“Then may my Soul as bright instinctive Flame,
“Aspiring then, thy kindred Radiance claim;
“Or to some humbler Heav'n the Trembler raise,
“Tho' there the last, the first to sing thy Praise;

141

“Some lowly, vacant Seat (Eternal) deign,
“Nor be Creation, and Redemption vain.

So pray'd the Maid, and Peace, a wonted Guest,
Sought the known Mansion of her spotless Breast;
To ev'ry Peril arm'd, and Pain resign'd,
Cheer in her Looks, and Patience in her Mind.

The Wind fresh blowing from the Syrian Shore,
Swift thro' the Floods her spooming Vessel bore;
Long breath'd the Current of the Eastern Gale,
And swell'd th' Expanse of each distended Sail;
And now the Hills of Candia rise to View,
As Ev'ning Clouds and settled Vapours blew;
And now (still driv'n before the Orient Blast)
Morea, and her length'ning Capes are pass'd:
Now Land again her wistful Prospect flies,
And gives th' unvarying Ocean to her Eyes;
Till Malta's Rocks, emerging from the Main,
The circling War of Earth and Sea maintain;
Alike unknown, each varying Clime appear'd,
The Land and Main alike the Virgin fear'd;

142

While ev'ry Coast her wand'ring Eyes explore,
Reminds her Soul of Syria's hostile Shore,
And more than ev'ry Monster Seas can yield,
From Man, from Man, she begs that Heav'n would shield,

Full many a Day, and many a Night, forlorn,
Thro' Shelves, and Rocks, and eddying Tempest born,
Thro' drizling Sky, and nightly Damp severe,
No Fire to warm, no social Face to cheer;
On many a Meal of tainted Viands fed,
The chill Blast whistling round her beauteous Head;
The pensive Innocence attends her Fate,
Amidst surrounding Deaths, and Storms, sedate.

Ye silken Sons of Affluence and Pride!
Whose Fortunes roll a soft superfluous Tide,
Who yet on visionary Wants refine,
And rack'd with false, fantastic Woes, repine;
And Ye, whom Penury and sharp Distress,
With bitter, but salubrious Med'cine bless;
Behold that Sex, whose Softness Men despise;
Behold a Maid! who might instruct the Wise

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Give Patience Precedent, fierce Frenzy swage,
And with Philosophy new-form the Sage.
For her the Tides of Regal Fulness flow'd;
For her Oppression heap'd the cumbrous Load;
In Affluence humble, in Misfortune great,
She stands the worst Alternatives of Fate.

At length, her Galley wing'd before the Blast,
Swift launching, thro' the Straits of Ceuta pass'd;
And winding now before the varying Gale,
Tempestuous Auster rends her lab'ring Sail;
Hispania's Realm th' obsequious Vessel coasts,
Now Gallia's Surge the beauteous Burthen boasts;
Till last, Britannia's Wave the Charge receives,
And from th' Atlantic Main, exalting, heaves,
The destin'd Freight with pleas'd Emotion bore,
And gently wafted to Northumbria's Shore.

But haply now 'twere obvious to demand,
How borne from Solyma's far-distant Land,
Thro' many a Clime, and Strait, that might restrain,
The Gust of Winter, and the whelming Main.

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Britannia's Coast should fix the wandring Maid,
Thro' such a Length of devious Tracts convey'd.

“Say first when Ships in dizzy Whirlwinds wheel,
“Who points the Fervour of the am'rous Steel?
“Wing'd by whose Breath the bidden Tempest blow?
“Heav'd in whose Fulness mighty Oceans flow?
“Yet what are Winds that blow? or Seas that roll?
“The Globe stupendous? or the poising Pole?
“What the sev'n Planets on their Axis spun?
“What the wide System of our cent'ring Sun?
“A Point, an Atom, to the ambient Space,
“Where Worlds on Worlds in circling Miriads race;
“Yet these th' inanimate Volution keep,
“And roll eliptic thro' the boundless Deep;
“While one Hand weighs the infinite Suspence,
“Th' insensate loads and measures the Immense;
“Within, without, thro Heighth and Depth presides,
“With equal Arm, the Bark, or Planet guides.
“By Thee, uplifted thro' the pathless Skies,
“With conscious Plume, the Birds of Passage rise;

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“Thro' Thee their patent Longitude is known,
“The stated Climate, and the varying Zone.
“Thy Will informs the universal Plan,
“The Ways of Angels, and the Ways of Man;
“The moral and material World connects,
“Thro' Each (Supreme) both governs and inspects;
“Conducts the Blood thro' each arterial Round,
“Conducts each System thro' the vast Profound;
“One Rule, the joint, the boundless Model, forms,
“And the small Ant to love of Order warms;
“Alike, thro' High, and Low, and Great, and Small,
“Nor Aught's mysterious, or mysterious All.

What Time the wafting Tide, and fav'ring Blast
The Fair on Britain's fated Region cast;
Young Alla then Northumbria's Sons obey'd,
Whose substituted Scepter Offa sway'd.
Illustrious Offa, who in Worth excell'd,
Whate'er the Rolls of Saxon Heroes held;
Alone Rodolphus, to the Chief ally'd,
Excell'd in Arms, but much excell'd in Pride;

146

High on the Brow of a commanding Steep,
And full in Prospect of the Eastern Deep,
His Seat, address'd for War, as for Repose,
And fix'd with Elegance, brave Offa chose.
And now the Hero, at his wonted Hour,
Where Trees o'er-arching form'd the Sylvan Bow'r,
With Hermigilda sought the Evening-Air,
His Bride, the fairest of the Saxon Fair.
When from the Main, and obvious to the View,
Th' apparent Wreck their fix'd Attention drew,
And quickly by innate Compassion led,
Attended, to the neighb'ring Shore they sped:
Constantia here sole Mariner they found,
Admiring gaze, and silently surround:
Her Eyes to Heav'n the grateful Charmer rais'd,
And with mute Thanks of swift Acceptance prais'd;
Then turn'd, with suppliant Mien her Arms extends,
And lowly at their Feet for Mercy bends.
Tho' Pagans, yet with native Virtues bless'd,
The Sentiment humane inform'd their Breast:

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They, her sad Narrative of Woes enquire,
Prompt to redress, as courteous to desire;
With moving Eloquence the Maid began,
And thro' a Length of strange Disasters ran;
What Truth requir'd, with artless Grace reveal'd;
What Prudence check'd, with graceful Art conceal'd,
Pathetic gave her Suff'rings to the View;
But o'er her State a specious Cov'ring threw.
Sweet flow'd the Aceents of her gentle Tongue,
Attention on the mournful Music hung:
Each Heart a sympathetic Anguish felt,
Who saw that Face, and could refuse to melt?
Great Offa's Bride with answ'ring Woes distress'd,
With streaming Eyes, and clasping Arms caress'd;
Officious now, to please, and prompt to aid,
They to the Palace lead the peerless Maid;
With Feast, and Song, and social Aspect cheer,
And, as of more than mortal Mold revere.

Here, pleas'd with Privacy, and long Content,
Her Days the universal Charmer spent;

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To Office apt, and each obliging Art,
She kindly stole the voluntary Heart;
Ador'd around, a mental Empire gain'd,
And still a Queen thro' ev'ry Bosom reign'd.

What winning Pow'r on Beauty's Charm attends
The Rude it softens, and the Bigot bends.
What Precept from Constantia's Lips can fail?
What Truth so musical, and not prevail?
Persuasive while she pleads, the Priest might learn,
The Deaf find Ears, and ev'n the Blind discern;
Soon thro' the House of gen'rous Offa spred,
Her pleasing Tongue its sacred Influence shed;
And all the cordial Proselytes of Grace,
The Christian Law, the Law of Love, embrace.
But ah, sweet Maid! how short is thy Repose!
Nor hope that here thy Scenes of Suff'ring close;
Heav'n speeds the Planet that o'erul'd thy Birth,
And hastes to make one Angel, ev'n on Earth.

Rodolphus to the Saxon Chief ally'd,
Whose Strength of Limb with mightiest Giants vy'd,

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Of Feature crude, and insolent of Soul,
Whose Heart nor knew, or Mercy, or Controul,
He saw, and though to Deeds of Discord bred,
He saw, and on the lovely Vision fed,
Swift through his Veins the sulph'rous Poison run,
But Women seem'd all obvious to be won.
Malicious Fervour prompts him to enjoy,
Dire is the Love that's eager to destroy,
Vows, Pray'rs, and Oaths, and Menaces he try'd,
And priz'd alike the Prostitute, or Bride;
But when repuls'd with merited Disdain,
He found all Threats, as all Intreaties vain,
The Flame that gloomy in his Bosom burn'd,
To deadly Hate by swift Transition turn'd,
And nightly, in his dark designing Soul,
Dire future Scenes and Schemes infernal roll.

Mean time, the Sons of hostile Scotia arm,
And Fame through Albion gives the loud Alarm,
Young Alla at the warlike Call arose,
And speeds with answ'ring Boldness to oppose,

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While Offa with glad Heart, and Honours due,
To welcome his approaching Sov'reign flew.

And now Rodolphus of whose baleful Breast
The Fiends and ev'ry Fury stood possess'd,
On Ills of cruellest Conception bent,
To perpetrate his deadly Purpose meant.

All wrapt in Clouds, from Heav'ns nocturnal Steep,
Mid Darkness hung, and weigh'd the World to sleep.
When Offa's Consort, and the Roman Maid,
By unsuspecting Innocence betray'd,
Divinely pious, and divinely fair,
Tir'd with long Vigil and the nightly Pray'r,
Together lock'd in calm Oblivion lay,
Not both to rise and greet returning Day.
Rodolphus unperceiv'd, invades the Room,
His Bosom darker than the midnight Gloom,
Dire o'er the gentle Fair the Felon stands,
A Ponyard thirsting in his impious Hands.
As should some Cottager with hourly Care
Two Lambs, his sole Delight and Substance, rear,

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With Fondness at his rural Table fed,
Beneath his Eye, and in his Bosom bred,
Till fierce for Blood, and watchful to devour,
Some prowling Wolf perceives the absent Hour,
His nightly Tread through some sly Postern bends,
And the meek Pair with savage Fury rends;
So sweet, so innocent, the Fair Ones lay,
So stern, the human Savage views his Prey,
His Steel swift plung'd through Hermigilda's Breast,
From the pure Form, dismiss'd the purer Guest;
Without one Sigh her gentle Soul expires,
And wak'd in Bliss, the wond'rous Change admires,
Beyond, beyond what Utt'rance e'er can name,
Or Vision of ecstatic Fancy frame.
Not so, bright Maid! thy harder Fate intends,
A simple Death was only meant for Friends,
For thee, he hoards the Fund of future Ill,
And spares with tenfold Cruelty to kill.
Close by Constantia, lovely sleeping Maid,
His reeking Steel the murd'rous Ruffian laid,

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Revolv'd within his Breast new Mischiefs brew,
And smiling horridly, the Fiend withdrew.

Thick Darkness yet withstood approaching Day,
And camp'd upon the Western Summits lay,
And scarce the straggling Rays of orient Light,
Excursive, pierc'd the paler Realms of Night,
Their Passage through Constantia's Casement won,
And view'd the brightest Form beneath the Sun,
When the first Glories of her op'ning Eyes
With prompt, with early Elevation rise,
Its Wing tow'rds Heav'n her waking Soul extends,
And in a Rapsody of Praise ascends.
But ah not long those lively Transports burn,
Confus'd, alarm'd, her Thoughts to Earth return,
All chill, and in the vital Current drown'd,
Pale at her Side, her lovely Friend she found,
A Cloud of Horror quick involv'd the Fair,
And utt'ring Shrieks express'd the loud Despair,
Wak'd to her Griefs, the scar'd Domestics rose,
In rush'd the Train, shrill echoing to her Woes,

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O'er the pale Dame a mourning Torrent shed,
And with repeated Cries invoke the Dead;
Rodolphus too, with well-dissembled Fears,
And Face of busie, feign'd Concern, appears,
From Heav'n's high Wrath, with swift Perdition sped,
He calls down Vengeance on the guilty Head;
Apparent Zeal his earnest Visage fires,
And (loud) the Murd'rer for himself enquires.
With bloody Marks of dire Conjecture stain'd,
Constantia, hapless Virgin, stands arraign'd:
The Fair with Fears her guiltless Cause essays;
But ah! each specious Circumstance betrays.
Rude Cords around her polish'd Arms they strain,
Strong pleads the Innocent, but pleads in vain.
Far were thy Friends, Constantia! lovely Maid!
Far distant all, that had the Pow'r to aid;
From Guilt, from Death, from Infamy to save,
Or shed a Tear upon a Stranger's Grave.

And now the Tale, with deadly Tid'ngs fraught,
To Offa's Ear a speedy Courier brought.

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Heart pierc'd with Anguish, stood the mourning Chief,
No Plaints express'd th' inutterable Grief;
No Sighs exhale, no streaming Sorrows flow,
Fix'd and immoveable in speechless Woe.
Compassion touch'd the gen'rous Alla's Breast,
For his brave Subject, for his Friend distress'd;
Each Circumstance the Royal Youth enquires,
And the dire Act his just Resentment fires.
By specious Proofs of false Suggestion led,
He vows full Vengeance on Constantia's Head,
To doom the luckless Innocent he speeds,
And in his Wrath the previous Victim bleeds.
Fame flies before with voluntary Wing,
A thousand distant Shouts proclaim their King;
Pour'd from all Parts, the Populace unite,
And on his Form insatiate feed their Sight:
For Alla, bright in each Perfection, shone,
That grac'd the Cottage, or enrich'd the Throne:
The Nerve-Herculean brac'd his youthful Arm,
His Cheek imbib'd the Virgin's softest Charm:

155

Mild was his Soul, all spotless as his Form,
His Virtues not severe, but chaste and warm;
His Manners sweet and sprightly, yet sincere;
His Judgment calm and deep, yet quick and clear:
Graceful his Speech, above the Flow'rs of Art;
Open his Hand, more bounteous yet his Heart;
As Mercy soft, kind, social, and humane;
Vice felt alone, that Alla held the Rein.
To all the Pride of Courts, and Pomp of Show,
The brightest Ornament, yet greatest Foe.

Within, without, thus rich in ev'ry Grace,
And all the Angel in his Soul, and Face,
Not form'd to feel Love's Passion, but impart,
No Charms were yet found equal to his Heart:
For him each Virgin sigh'd, but sigh'd in vain,
By him unpitied, since unknown the Pain.

Detesting Flattery, yet fond of Fame,
Thro' deadly Fields, he sought a deathless Name;
Still foremost there, he sprung with youthful Heat,
And War, not Love, gave Alla's Breast to beat;

156

Each Foe he conquer'd, and each Friend retain'd,
And scepter'd in his Subjects Bosoms, reign'd.

And now arriv'd—severe in solemn State,
(Whence no Appeal) the grand Tribunal sate;
Great Alla, thron'd conspicuous to the View,
Attention, Love, and cent'ring Rev'rence drew;
In Form, the deadly Process strait began,
Wide thro' the Croud, a doubtful Murmur ran,
Rodolphus chief the friendless Pris'ner charg'd,
Enforc'd the Pain, and on the Guilt enlarg'd;
The Fair unknown to her Defence they cite,
Guarded she comes, as pure, as Angels bright;
As tho' Delight and Grief at once combin'd,
And fled to her, displeas'd with all Mankind,
Or as Delight would Grief, in Grief, excell,
Or Grief could find Delight with her to dwell.
Pensive she moves, majestically slow,
And with a Pomp of Beauty decks her Woe:
All Murmurs silenc'd by her Presence, cease,
And from her Eye the yielding Croud gives place;

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Ev'n Alla's Looks his softning Soul confess'd,
And all Resentment died within his Breast.
But ah! while Shame with injured Honour vies.
And yet her Tongue its fault'ring Task denies,
More than all Phrase, or studied quaint Address,
Her down-cast Eyes, and speaking Looks express.
At length pathetic, with a starting Tear,
She thus to bow'd Attention charm'd the Ear.

“Where may the Wretched for Protection bend?
“Or when, ah when shall my Misfortunes end?
“Sure, Persecution in the Grave will cease,
“And Death bestow, what Life denies me, Peace.
“Driv'n from before the Face of Humankind,
“Earth, Air, and Sea, with cruel Man combin'd:
“Each Hour, each Element prepar'd a Foe,
“And Nature seem'd exhausted in my Woe:
“At length with ev'ry Grace and Virtue crown'd
“One Friend, one pitying faithful Friend I found,
“With her (retir'd) to pass my Days I chose,
“And here presum'd to taste a late Repose:

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“But Peace to me, alike all Climes refuse;
“And Mischief to the farthest Pole pursues,
“'Tis even a Crime to be Constantia's Friend,
“Nor less than Death to those who wou'd defend,
“Ah Hermigilda! cou'd my forfeit Life,
“To the fond Husband give the faithful Wife,
“From Death recall thy chastely featur'd Charms,
“And yield thee to the gen'rous Offa's Arms,
“Ah! gladly wou'd I then resign my Breath,
“If Life so dear cou'd be reviv'd by Death.
“But thus to die with soul Suspicion stain'd,
“For Murder, Murder of my Friends arraign'd!
“Alas! unskill'd in ev'ry cruel Art,
“Had I the Power to hurt, I want the Heart;
“No Creature e'er Constantia's Malice felt,
“Ev'n suff'ring Foes have taught my Heart to melt,
“My Heart, for Birds, for Insects oft distress'd,
“And Pity is its known, its only Guest.
“O Youth! thy happy People's boasted Theme,
“O Alla, sacred to the Breath of Fame,

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“To whom subjected Realms their Rights submit,
“Who thron'd in Judgment like an Angel sit,
“Still more extensive be thy guardian Care,
“And let the Innocent, the Stranger share.”

Here rudely on her Plea Rodolphus broke,
And all inflam'd, and interrupting, spoke.
“List not, O King, to that bewitching Tongue,
“So sweetly false the tempting Syrens sung,
“Her Words wou'd give the knotted Oak an Ear,
“And charm the Moon from her enchanted Sphere.
“That by her Hand our dear Relation bled,
“This Sword shall witness on her guilty Head,
“Whatever Champion, or bold Odds oppose,
“And, arm'd by Justice, dare a thousand Foes,
“Then be her Purity by Combat try'd,
“And by the conquering Arm let Heav'n decide.

Alas! O Alla, (cry'd the trembling Maid)
“My Sex, not Arms but Innocence must aid,
“Helpless I stand, and distant ev'ry Friend,
“That has the Pow'r, or Courage to defend;

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“If Justice is ordain'd to crown the Strong,
“Then the weak Arm is ever in the Wrong,
“The Hawk may triumph in his lawless Deeds,
“While doom'd beneath his Gripe the Turtle bleeds
“Yet that I'm guiltless ev'n my Charge admits,
“And Malice, meaning to arraign, acquits,
“What tho' the Sword lay treach'rous at my Side;
“Sure Guilt could never want the Craft to hide;
“The Spots of bloody Circumstance explain,
“That inward Truth fears no exterior Stain;
“And last my Capture with the Slain implies,
“That Guilt, not Innocence from Vengeance flies.
“I fear not Death but that surviving Shame,
“Which must to Ages blast my spotless Name,
“Be that from Taint of guilty Censure freed,
“And all that Malice can inflict, decreed.”

Thus while she spake, with secret Passions toss'd,
And in a World of new found Wonders, lost,
Scarce Alla could his struggling Heart controul;
Fix'd were his Eyes, but restless was his Soul,

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His Breast with various Agitation burn'd,
Now pale, now red, his varying Aspect turn'd,
Her Accents dwell upon his list'ning Ears,
When now she ceas'd, delighted still he hears,
Her Form with chang'd, with fev'rish Look surveys,
And could for ever hear, for ever gaze.

At length collected, as from Bonds he broke,
And with cold Speech, and feign'd Indiff'rence, spoke.
“Thy Charge, (bright Maid) my secret Soul acquits,
“But publick Law no private Voice admits,
“Kings sit not here, with arbitrary Sense
“To form new Laws, or cavil, but dispense;
“Though Law is fallible, yet Law should sway,
“And Kings more fallible than Law, obey.
“Say, gallant Warriors! who unmatch'd in Arms,
“May yield uncensured to resistless Charms,
“Say, is there one who singularly brave,
“At his own Peril greatly dares to save,
“From Pain, from Death, from Slander to defend,
“And give the Stranger, and the Fair, a Friend.

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The Hero said, but mute was ev'ry Tongue,
Blank ev'ry Face, and ev'ry Nerve unstrung,
So much Rodolphus, never match'd in Arms,
Each weaker Hand, and conscious Heart alarms;
So was the Giant fam'd for brutal Pow'r,
Strode like an Arch, and menac'd like a Tow'r.
Then Alla “Soon as Phosphor's dewy Ray
“Shall gild the Shade, bright Promiser of Day,
“Prepar'd and meted with the Morning Light,
“Be the rail'd Barrier, and the Lifts of Fight,
“Then, e'er the Sun swift mounting up the Sky,
“Views the wide World with his Meridian Eye,
“While issuing from the Trumpets brazen Throat
“Defiance loudly breaths its martial Note,
“If haply Heav'n (not impotent to aid)
“With interposing Arm protect the Maid,
“Some Angel, or unlook'd for Champion send,
“And with prevailing Ministry defend,
“Freed be the Fair, and spotless be her Fame,
“E'er Evening else, she feeds the hungry Flame.”

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So spake the Prince, descending from his Throne,
Sad through the Concourse went the length'ning Groan,
The Maid to Death inevitably doom'd
A guiltless Victim ev'ry Heart presum'd,
To her they consecrate the pitying Tear,
Nor e'er till then cou'd think their Prince severe.

Constantia (when with firm tho' hopeless Eye
She now perceiv'd the fatal Hour drew nigh)
In conscious Innocence erects her Head,
With Doubt exiled, all Care and Terror fled,
Death stole from Triumph to adorn her State,
And gave a Smile beyond the Reach of Fate.
All Night in Pray'r and mental Song the Maid
(With Angels choir'd) her Soul for Heav'n array'd,
Light from her Heart as Summer's careless Robe,
Dropt each Affection of this Sin-worn Globe,
O'er Honour, late so lov'd, o'er brutal Foes,
And ev'ry Sense of mortal Coil she rose,
Till tow'rd the Dawn she gently sunk to Rest,
With all Elysium open'd in her Breast.

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Gray Morning now involv'd in rising Dew,
Over the cap'd Hills her steaming Mantle threw,
While far beyond the Horizontal Sun,
With Beam of intersected Brightness shone,
Gold pav'd o'er Ocean strech'd his glitt'ring Road,
And to the Shore the lengthning Radiance glow'd.
Full in his sight, and open to the Main,
Concurring Squadrons throng'd Northumbria's Plain,
To learn what Fate attends the foreign Fair,
Each Sex and Age in mingling Routs repair,
Whom pour'd by Millions to the listed Field,
Dispeopl'd Towns, and emptied Hamlets yield.
Within the Lists, conspicuous to the sight,
Rode the proud Stature of the Saxon Knight,
His Mien, with Thirst of Opposition fir'd,
Appear'd to menace what it most desir'd,
Gave all to wish some Champion for the Fair,
Gave all to wish the Fight, but none to dare;
His bold Defiance o'er the measur'd Ground,
The brasen Blasts of winding Clarions sound,

165

While strong lung'd Heralds challenge to the Fight,
And seem at once, to threaten, and invite.

And now, expectant of the murd'rous Flame,
In sable Pomp the lovely Victim came,
On her, all Looks, and cent'ring Hearts were fix'd,
Love, Grief, and Awe, with soft Compassion mix'd,
To Heav'n, the Voice of wide Affliction cries,
Earth drinks the Tribute of ten thousand Eyes,
Such Sighs as from the dying Breast expire,
And Tears, as meant to quench a World on Fire.
To the tall Pyre, in sad Procession led.
The Maid tranquil ascends her Sylvan Bed,
And fearless on the Funeral Summit plac'd,
Her Seat, of fearful Preparation, grac'd.
Hence, with wide Gaze she threw her Eyes around,
Nor Alla, cruel, lovely Alla, found;
“Ah (soft she said) where's this Heroic Youth?
“So fam'd for Clemency, so fam'd for Truth,
“So sage, so cautious in the Casuist's Chair,
“Too firm to deviate, and too just to spare,

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‘To Strangers cruel, tho' to Subjects kind,
‘In Law discerning, yet to Mercy blind.
‘Why comes not he to feast his savage Eyes?
‘And view the Pains he can so well devise,
‘Heav'n fram'd thee Alla with exterior Art,
‘Soften'd thy Form, but left a flinty Heart,
‘Too perfect else had been the beauteous Plan,
‘And Alla had been something more than Man.

Thus while she spoke, a distant Murmur rose,
As when the Wind thro' rustling Forest blows,
And gathering now still louder and more near,
To mute Attention turn'd each list'ning Ear.
Distinctly heard along the listed Ground,
To Trumpets, now shrill answering Trumpets sound,
A clam'rous Cheer from Rank to Rank extends,
And sudden shout the deafen'd Welkin rends.
Strait (usher'd to the Field with loud Acclaim)
A Knight unknown, and unattended came,
No trophy'd Boast, no outward Shine of Arms,
Nor love Device, with quaint Attraction, charms;

167

Unplum'd the Motion of his sable Crest,
And black the guardian Corselet on his Breast,
Black was the Steed that bore him to the Field,
And black the Terror of his ample Shield.

As when to Slake Jernes' fev'rish Plain,
And check the Dog-star's short, but sultry Reign,
A Cloud, full-freighted with the coming Storm,
Black-brow'd o'er Ocean lifts its cumb'rous Form,
Dread, to the Shore its gloomy Progress bends,
And charg'd with Heav'n's avenging Bolt suspends.
So to the Field the gloomy Champion show'd,
So charg'd with Mercy, as with Vengeance rode.
Where the bright Victim bless'd the circling View,
Close to the Pyre the sable Warrior drew,
Guilty aloud? Or Innocent? He cry'd,
Ah guiltless-so help Heav'n, the Maid reply'd,
So by this Arm (he said) may Heav'n for thee decide!
Surpriz'd Rodolphus stood, abash'd the bold,
And like a Torrent in mid Course controll'd,

168

Abash'd to find, that any mortal Wight,
Cou'd singly dare to match his matchless Might.
But soon, of conscious Force, and Scorn, and Pride,
With two-fold Fury swell'd th' impetuous Tide,
Resistless, dreadful, in his Wrath he rose,
For Courage still with Opposition grows.
Attending Heralds strait divide the Field,
And the dire Interval for Combat yield.
To either Gole retir'd each threatful Knight,
Fierce thro' Restraint, and trembling for the Fight,
On each by Turns was ev'ry Look intent,
Now here, now there, with swift Emotion bent;
Perch'd on the Summit of the Stranger's Crest,
Here Conquest seem'd to ev'ry Eye confest;
Not long confess'd, for from his Rival, there,
Again the varying Judgment learns Despair,
For ev'ry Wish assum'd the Stranger's Part,
And quick Expectance throb'd in ev'ry Heart.

Fix'd in his Seat, each waits the dread Career,
And in each Rest firm sits the pond'rous Spear,

169

Each conscious Steed impatient beats the Ground,
Eager and wan was ev'ry Face around;
The Signal given, they vanish from the Goles,
Earth backward spurn'd from either Courser rolls,
Space gathers quick beneath their nimble Feet,
And Horse to Horse, (tremendous Shock) they meet.
Nor yet blind Wrath, or head-long Valour rul'd,
More forceful was their Force, by Judgment cool'd,
The deadly Aim each hostile Eye selects,
Each Eye too marks where either Arm directs,
With Art they ward, and with dread Action wield,
Point with the Lance, and parry with the Shield.
Full at the Bosom of his active Foe
Rodolphus levell'd the resistless Blow,
But from his oblique Buckler glanc'd the Spear
Which else, nor Targe, nor mortal Arm could bear
Not so his Lance the sable Champion sped,
Feign'd at the Breast, then brandish'd at the Head,
Thro' his Foe's Shield the verging Weapon press'd,
And raz'd the Plume that wanton'd on his Crest.

170

Together, with impetuous Onset push'd,
Thus Horse to Horse, and Man to Man they rush'd;
Then backward, driv'n by mutual Shock they bound,
Beneath the Conflict shakes the suff'ring Ground.

So wing'd, in War, or Darkness, on the Deep,
Two Ships adverse the mediate Ocean sweep,
With horrid Brunt joins each encount'ring Prow,
Loud roars the rifled Surge, and foams below,
Sails, Shrowds, and Masts all shiver in the Toil,
And backward to their Sterns the found'ring Keels recoil.

But each well skill'd in ev'ry warlike Meed,
New to the Charge revives his sinking Steed;
Swift from his Side his steely Terror drew,
And on his Foe with answ'ring Fury flew.
The Sway long time intemp'rate Valour bore,
While artless Rage unlearn'd the Warrior's Lore;
On their hack'd Arms the restless Peal descends,
Targe, Plate, and Mail, and riven Corselet, rends;
Struck from their Helms, the steely Sparks aspire,
And from their Swords forth streams the mingling Fire.

171

As in the Glow of some Vulcanian Shed,
Two brawny Smiths heave high the pond'rous Sled,
Full Front to Front, a griesly Pair, they stand,
Between their Arms extends the fiery Brand,
Huge Strokes from the tormented Anvil bound;
Thick flames the Air, and groans the lab'ring Ground,

So toil'd these Heroes with commutual Rage,
And such reciprocated Combat wage.
Around them (trembling) Expectation waits,
With speechless Horror ev'ry Bosom beats,
For either seem'd resistless in the Fight,
But each too seem'd to match resistless Might.
Surpriz'd at length the wary Warriors own
A Rival to their Arms till then unknown,
With mutual Wile defensive, now they fought,
And mutual Wounds a mutual Caution taught.
All Dint of Force, and Stratagem, they try,
Reach with their Arms, and measure with their Eye,
They feint, they ward, strike out, and now evade,
Foin with the Point, and parry with the Blade,

172

Probe each Defect, some purpos'd Limb expose,
Now grapling seize, and with dread Union close,
Their Waistes with unenamour'd Grasp they wind,
Their Arms, like Cramps, and forceful Engines bind,
Each strives to lift the other from his Seat,
Heav'd thick, and short, their lab'ring Bosoms beat;
Struggling they gripe, they pull, they bend, they strain,
But firm and still unsway'd their Seats retain;
Till loos'd as by Consent again they turn,
And with reviving Force and Fury burn.

Thus future Ages had this Fight beheld,
Where both all Might excelling, none excell'd.
Had not Rodolphus with impassion'd Pride,
High heav'd a Blow that shou'd at once decide,
(His utmost Pow'rs collected in the Stroke)
Like Thunder o'er the yielding Foe he broke;
(The Foe elusive of the dire Intent)
His Force in Air the barrass'd Pagan spent,
And by his Bulk of cumb'rous Poise o'ersway'd,
Full on his Helm receiv'd the adverse Blade,

173

Prone fell the Giant o'er a Length of Ground,
With ceaseless Shouts the echoing Heav'ns resound.

As from the Brow of some impending Steep,
The sportive Diver views the briny Deep,
From his high Stand with headlong Action flies,
And turns his Heels retorted to the Skies;
Inverted so the bulky Chief o'erturns,
And Heav'n, with Heel of quick Elation, spurns.
Light from his Steed the conqu'ring Hero sprung,
And threatful o'er the prostrate Monster hung,
He, with feign'd Penitence, and humbled Breath,
Fond to evade the fear'd, th' impending Death,
(The instant Weapon glitt'ring at his Breast)
The murd'rous Scene and nightly Guilt confess'd.

Mean while, attended by the shouting Crew,
The Fair, now free'd, to greet her Champion flew;
For not of mortal Arm the Chief she thought,
But Heav'n's own Delegate with Vengeance fraught.
When now, enchanting to the Warrior's Sight,
The Maid drew near, the Maid as Angels bright,

174

His Bever from his lovely Face he rais'd,
And All on Alla, conquering Alla, gaz'd.
Earth, Sea, and Air, with endless Triumph ring,
And shouting Thousands hail their Victor King.
Not so Constantia, struck with strange Surprize,
Her great Deliverer in her Judge she eyes,
Conquest and Love upon his Regal Brow,
A cruel Judge, but kind Deliv'rer now,
Soft Shame, and trembling Awe, her Step, repress'd,
And wond'rous Gratitude disturb'd her Breast;
Joys, fainting Fears, quick thrill'd through ev'ry Vein,
And scarce her Limbs their beauteous Charge sustain.

How widely devious from the Ways of Man
Is the great Maze of providential Plan!
Vain Man, short-sighted Politician, dreams,
That Things shall move subservient to his Schemes,
But Heav'n the fond Projector undermines,
And makes the Agent thwart his own Designs,
Against it self the Instrument employs
And with the Means the End propos'd destroys.

175

What shall prevent Omniscience to direct?
And what, what can't Omnipotence effect?
He to th' Event subdues th' opposing Cause,
And Light from Darkness, (wond'rous Influence) draws,
Defeat from Conquest, Infamy from Fame,
And oft to Honour paves the Path of Shame.
Why then this Toil, and Coil, and anxious Care?
Why does Man triumph, why does Man despair?
Why does he chuse by vicious Steps to scale,
Where Virtue may (at least as well) prevail,
Since not in him his proper Fortune lies,
And Heav'n alone ordains his Fall, or Rise;
Man may propose, but only Heav'n must speed,
And tho' the Will is free, th' Event's decree'd.
Be then the Scope of ev'ry Act, and Thought,
To will, and do still simply as we ought,
The less shall Disappointment's Sting annoy,
And each Success will bring a double Joy;
To boundless Pow'r and Prescience leave the Rest,
But Thou, enjoy the Province in thy Breast.

176

Lo! in one Hour, by Fortune unforeseen,
The lowly Criminal becomes the Queen;
From Shame to Glory, Anguish to Repose,
From Death to Life, and Bonds to Freedom rose.
In Love, as War, resistless, Alla woo'd,
And whom he won by Arms, by Suit subdu'd,
Constantia with her secret Wish comply'd,
For Alla would not, could not be deny'd.

Nor list we here with Pomp of long Array
To blazon forth that chaste connubial Day,
To tell what Numbers numberless, what Knights,
And glitt'ring Dames adorn'd the Festal Rites,
What Joys the Banquet or the Bowl could yield,
Or what the Trophies of the tilting Field.
Loud were the Revels, boundless was the mirth,
That hail'd the sweetest brightest Pair on Earth,
Of Men, the wisest, bravest, fairest, He;
Of all that's beautiful most beauteous, She,
Love, Nature, Harmony the Union claim'd,
And each for each, and both for one were fram'd.

177

But we of subsequent Adventure treat,
And hasten to unfold their future Fate.

Some Months young Alla and his peerless Bride,
In cordial Bond of dear Accordance tied,
Had look'd and smil'd the precious Hours away,
And fed on Bliss that ne'er could know Decay;
He whose turn'd Ear on that enchanting Tongue
With Thirst of fondest Inclination hung,
Won by a Preacher with so fair a Face,
Becomes the zealous Proselyte of Grace,
And Subjects too their heath'nish Rites forego,
For still from Courts, or Vice, or Virtues, flow.
But ah! too soon, from Beauty's softer Charms,
War, rig'rous War, and Scotia call to Arms,
Constantia must her blooming Hero yield,
And Honour sent him to th' embattell'd Field.

Mean while, the pregnant Fruit of chaste Delight
With a Male Infant crown'd the nuptial Rite;
All sweet and lovely as the smiling Morn,
Mauritius was to bless a Nation born;

178

Their Pledge of future Bliss, their princely Boy,
The Britons hail with universal Joy,
Their Fancy frames him what their Pray'rs require,
Sweet as their Queen, and valiant as his Sire,
Offa to whom the King's departing Care,
(Inestimable Charge) confign'd the Fair,
Advice of loyal Gratulation sent,
To glad his Sov'reign with the blest Event.

But Donnegilda, cruel, crafty Dame,
Great Alla's Mother over-fond of Fame,
She, (as all antique Parents, wond'rous Sage!
For Youth project the Inappetence of Age,
Each Sense endearing, and humane, despise,
And on the Mammon feast their down-cast Eyes)
Malevolent beheld a Stranger led,
Unknown, unfriended to the regal Bed;
For in the secret Closet of her Breast,
Constantia her imperial Birth suppress'd,
Till Heav'n shou'd perfect the connubial Band,
And with her Royal Off-spring bless the Land.

179

Ah! ill tim'd Caution! were this Truth declar'd,
What a vast Cost of future Woe was spar'd,
But where Heav'ns Will th' unequal Cause supplies,
To set the World on Fire, a Spark may well suffice.

The subtile Dame who now the Occasion spy'd,
To tear Constantia from her Alla's Side,
Debauch'd the Messenger, his Mandate stole,
And forg'd in Offa's Name the crafty Scroll,
Wherein she fram'd a Tale with wond'rous Art,
How the feign'd Fair by Witchcraft won his Heart,
Seduced his Senses with infernal Lore,
And a dread Monster (hideous Off-spring) bore.
But Alla, of whose fond, whose faithful Breast,
His Consort was the dear eternal Guest,
Unmov'd, return'd his Bliss was too refin'd,
Without the just Allay that Heav'n assign'd,
And what Constantia bore, or Heav'n decreed,
To be unwelcome, must be strange indeed.

This Letter too the Courier, as before,
To Britain's Dowager unweeting bore,

180

And in the Surfeit of oblivious Wine
Left her to perpetrate the black Design.
This too she cancell'd, forg'd the regal Hand,
And pityless inscribed the dire Command,
With Threats that Offa to the wonted Sea,
Shou'd the false Queen and hated Imp convey,
And there permit the now detested Dame
To seek the Shore from whence the Sorceress came.

When Offa had the barb'rous Mandate read,
To Heav'n his Eyes and lifted Hands he spred,
Like Niobe to Marble turn'd he stood,
Grief, Fear and Horror froze the gen'rous Blood,
Again he stir'd, as from some wistful Dream,
Again he read, alas! he read the same.

But (tho' in Terms of soothing Phrase express'd)
When now Constantia learn'd her Lord's Behest,
Keen Anguish, piercing to the Springs of Life,
At once arrests the Mother and the Wife,
For not, to her alone confin'd, as late
When bold she stood the weightiest Stroke of Fate,

181

A thousand Cares of soft endearing Kind,
Now share with Heaven the Motions of her Mind,
And with fond Thoughts of sweet Concern divide,
The melting Mother, and the clasping Bride,
And these alone her bursting Bosom rend,
And o'er the Couch her lifeless Limbs extend.

Fame pour'd the mourning Populace around,
In gushing Anguish ev'ry Eye is drown'd,
Compassion set her Virtues full to View,
And with their Queen bid ev'ry Joy adieu,
Swift from his Throne they wish their Alla hurl'd,
And her, crown'd Empress of the peopled World.
But ah! in vain their Pray'rs and Tears delay,
Strict was the Charge, and Offa must obey,
With heavy Heart and faint reluctant Hand,
He led the Mourner to the neighb'ring Strand,
She to the heaving Whiteness of her Breast,
With melting Looks her helpless Infant prest;
And thus, while Sobs her piteous Accent broke,
Her little inattentive Child bespoke.

182

“Weep not sweet Wretch! tho' such thy Father's Will,
“Yet hast thou one, one hapless Parent still,
“Peace, Peace, to thee thy Mother means no Harm,
“Nor let our Lot thy little Heart alarm,
“O'er Thee till Death, o'er Thee, my Cares shall wake,
“And love thee for thy cruel Father's sake.”

Had ev'ry Sire (as on the Banks of Nile,)
Lost his first-born throughout Britannia's Isle,
Or Death with undistinguish'd Carnage swept
Wives, Sons, and Sires, by all the Living wept;
Such haply were the Woes that now deplore
Their Queen attended to the ecchoing Shore,
They tear their Locks, their rueful Bosoms smite,
And trace her Bark with long pursuing Sight.

Tedious it were, tho' wond'rous strange to tell,
What new Adventures o'er the Main befel,
How fondly pratling, while her Infant smiled,
She the long Hours, and wint'ry Nights beguiled,
Till seiz'd by Pirates on th' Atlantick Wave,
A Prince of Gallia bought th' imperial Slave.

183

How in calm Peace, and Friendship long retain'd,
High Trust and Grace her winning Sweetness gain'd,
Till she to Rome (predestinate Event)
Associate with her Lord and Mistress went.

But now to Britain let the Muse repair,
For there the valiant Alla claims her Care.

Triumphant soon from Scotia he return'd,
And to behold his lov'd Constantia burn'd:
This wings his Feet along the toilsome Way;
But Thoughts are swifter, swifter far than They;
Hope, elevate, the distant Journey metes,
And to his March his Heart the Measure beats.
But when o'er Tweed he led his conqu'ring Host,
And trode the Verdure of Northumbria's Coast,
While Laurels round their trophied Temples twin'd,
And Banners wanton'd in the curling Wind,
No wonted Crouds their once-lov'd Alla meet,
No prostrate Knees, or hailing Voices greet;
Blank was his Passage o'er the pensive Ground,
And Silence cast a mournful Gloom around;

184

Or if his Prince, some straggling Peasant spy'd,
As from a Basilisk he slunk aside.

What this might mean revolv'd within his Breast,
Conjecture dire, and whisp'ring Doubts suggest,
More dread than Death, some hideous Ill impart,
(This the first Fear e'er seiz'd on Alla's Heart)
But worse, O worse than Fancy yet could fear,
When now the killing Truth arrests his Ear,
Athwart his Eyes and mantling round his Soul,
Thick Clouds of Grief and inky Darkness roll,
His Sense, nor Tears, nor utt'ring Groans could tell,
But froze and lock'd in speechless Woe he fell.
At length by Care, by cruel Kindness, brought,
To all the Anguish of returning Thought,
Swift from the Sheath he drew the deadly Guest,
And would have pierc'd this Vulture in his Breast,
Such was the Sting of agonizing Pain,
His Frenzy wou'd th' immortal Soul have slain.
But this prevented, round th' attending Crew;
With baleful Glance, his eager Eyes he threw,

185

Constantia he requires with frantic Tongue,
Constantia still the restless Accents sung;
To Her, as present, now his Fondness speaks,
As absent, into desp'rate Action breaks;
“Oh never, never more, my Queen! he cries,
“Shall that known Form attract these dying Eyes;
“Never!—O, 'tis the worst, the last Despair;
“Never is long, is wondrous long to bear.
“Down, down, ye Cloud-topt Hills, your Summits stoop,
“With me, in Sign of endless Mourning droop:
“Snapt be the Spear, bright Armour groun'd to Dust,
“Repose thou Corslet in eternal Rust;
“Still'd be each Tube, the Trumpet's warlike Swell,
“Empire, and Fame, all, all, with Thee farewell:
“For Thee alone, thy conqu'ring Soldier arm'd,
“The Banner wav'd, and sprightly Clangor charm'd
“But Arms and loath'd Desire with Thee are dead,
“And Joy, No, never to return, is fled.

Thus rav'd the Youth, to wilful Woes resign'd,
And, offer'd Aid was Sickness to his Mind.

186

To Frenzy by uxorious Transports rais'd,
His Vengeance on his aged Parent seiz'd;
Who doom'd to lose that too designing Head,
A Victim to his lov'd Constantia, bled.

But Violence in Nature cannot last,
What Region's known to bear eternal Blast?
Time changes all, dissolves the melting Rock,
And on fix'd Water turns the christal Lock.
Time o'er his Anguish shed a silent Balm,
A Peace unsmiling, and a gloomy Calm;
By Ill untaught to mourn, by Joy to glow,
And still insensible to Bliss or Woe.

To Him, thus careless of the circling Year,
Five annual Suns had roll'd their bright Career;
To Heav'n alone, his earthly Ardors turn'd,
There, late to meet the dear Constantia, burn'd.
Still that fond Hope remain'd,—his sole Desire,
And gave new Wings to the celestial Fire,
But yet—Hereafter—What might there betide
The Blood-stain'd Hand, by whom a Parent died:

187

This, this gave doubtful Thought, unhing'd his Rest,
And shook the Region of his contrite Breast:
At length taught satiate Vengeance to relent,
And ship'd for Rome, the Royal Pilgrim sent.

O'er Tiber soon the far-fraught Tidings sped,
(For far beyond the Warrior's Fame had spread)
And Gallia's Hugo, to whose gen'rous Care
Protecting Heav'n consign'd the wandring Fair,
With Those, whom virtuous Approbation fir'd
As still the Brave are by the Brave admir'd;
To see, to touch, the gallant Alla glow'd,
And rank'd to meet the Regal Pilgrim rode.
With all due Rite and answ'ring Grace humane,
The courteous Prince receiv'd the shining Train,
But Hugo chief, with Port of winning View,
The Hero's Eye, and prime Affection drew;
And him (with Note selected from the rest)
The Prince sollicits for a frequent Guest.

But ah! when now it reach'd Constantia's Ear,
That Alla, lovely, barb'rous Man, was near,

188

Her Soul, a thousand diff'rent Thoughts assail,
Expell'd by Turns, by Turns they all prevail;
With melting Joy, and burning Love she glows,
With cooling Grief, and icy Hate she froze,
Dear to her Heart, though horrid to her Will,
He was the lov'd, the charming Alla still.

Nor Hugo now (in pompous Dress array'd)
To wait Britannia's potent Lord delay'd,;
With Him Mauritius frequent Chat supply'd,
A little gay Companion at his Side,
He beams a Ganymede, in whose sweet Face
The Sire and Mother liv'd with mingling Grace;
Here still they met, in Beauty reconcil'd;
Here still in soft delicious Union, smil'd;
So join'd, so blended, with divinest Art,
As left it not in any Pow'r to part.

Upon the Pratler's Aspect, with Surprize,
And charm'd Attention, Alla fix'd his Eyes,
Somewhat of wonted Semblance there he spy'd,
Dear to his Sense, and to his Heart ally'd;

189

Somewhat that touch'd beyond all mortal View,
And inly with the Link of Nature, drew;
Disturb'd he rose, upon his secret Soul,
Unweeting Thaw, and cordial Earnings stole;
Big with the soft Distress, aside he stept,
And much the Warrior wonder'd why he wept.
Compos'd, he clasp'd the Infant to his Breast,
And ask'd, what Sire with such a Son was blest?
“That (Hugo cry'd) his Dame alone must show;
“Sire hath he none, or none of Whom we know;
“But Mother, sure, he hath, that's such a Mate
“No Man can boast, nor boastful Tongue relate;
“Though Fancy, to give Semblance of her Face,
“From all her Sex should call each sep'rate Grace;
“To speak her Soul should rob from ev'ry Saint,
“Low yet were Phrase, and all Description faint.

Thus, while his Tongue with free Encomium flow'd,
With strange Emotion Alla's Aspect glow'd;
Full on his Heart the dear Idea rush'd,
His Cheek with Hope, and lively Ardor flush'd;

190

When strait Despondence sick'ning in his Soul,
From its known Seat the rosy Tincture stole:
“Once once he cry'd (the lab'ring Sigh suppress'd)
“Such Treasure once these widow'd Arms possess'd,
“Nature is rich,—yet gladly should I know,
“If the World's Round can such Another shew.
“Be that (reply'd the Gallic-Chief) confess'd,
“Whene'er my House boasts Alla for a Guest.

They went—but when the long-dissever'd Pair,
Her Alla here, and his Constantia there—
By Doubts, Loves, Fears, and rushing Joys dismay'd,
Unmov'd, each Face, with mutual Gaze survey'd,
Such was the Scene, th' impassion'd Gesture such,
As Phrase can't reach, nor liveliest Pencil touch.
Three times the Fair One sought the Shades of Death,
Three times reviv'd by Alla's balmy Breath;
And thrice his guiltless Plea he would essay,
And thrice she turn'd, Constantia turn'd away.
“Now, by this Hand (Britannia's Hero cry'd)
“This Hand, by whom a cruel Parent dy'd,

191

“Long since for Thee, for Thee thou dear One, bled,
“A Victim sacred to that injur'd Head,
“Of all thy Wrongs thy Alla is as clear,
“As here my Son, thy other Alla here,
“Ah! could you know the Anguish, the Distress,
“(But who can know what Words can ne'er express?)
“What Racks, what Deaths, thy tort'ring Absence cost,
“What restless Toil this suff'ring Bosom toss'd,
“'Twas such a Ruin, such a Breach of Care,
“As this and only this could e'er repair.

So saying, swift resistless to his Breast,
The yielding Fair repeated Transport press'd;
But when all Doubt and cold Suspicion clear'd,
Her Lord still faithful as belov'd appear'd,
By her so oft, so cruelly accus'd,
Still kind and true, and as her self abus'd,
She in his Bosom all with Joy o'erpowr'd,
Of Sobs and Tears the copious Tempest showr'd,
All Eyes around the melting Measure kept,
And Pleasure through contagious Transport wept.

192

For Heav'n alone can emulate the Sweet
Of one Hour's Bliss when two such Lovers meet.

Still had Constantia, lock'd within her Breast,
The Royal Secret of her Birth suppress'd.
When Rome's imperial Monarch wide invites
To social Cheer and festival Delights:
For now triumphant from the Syrian Coast,
Tho' long detain'd, return'd his vengeful Host;
And to reward their Toils and drown their Cares
The Monarch on a solemn Day prepares.
With festal Robes adorn'd each Warrior came;
In glitt'ring Vesture many a Roman Dame;
And there amid the Peers, a peerless Guest,
There Alla came in regal Splendors drest;
All India beaming at the Hero's Side,
O'er beaming India shone his brighter Bride,
While the young Joy of each applauding Tongue,
Mauritius, on his smiling Parents hung,
As tho' a stripling Cherub should attend,
Where two of prime angelick Rank descend.

193

Struck at the pleasing Prospect all admire,
But mute with Wonder stood th' imperial Sire;
For haply since our primal Parents fell
Ne'er met a Pair that could this Pair excel.

He at his left Britannia's Monarch plac'd,
And his right Hand th' unknown Constantia grac'd:
When with a starting Tear the rev'rend Man,
(To Alla turn'd) in placid Speech began;
“Young, tho' thou art, with earliest Vigour strung,
“And the fond Theme of Fame's applauding Tongue,
“'Tis said thou hast the Stings of Fortune felt,
“And such can learn from others Woes to melt:
“I had a Daughter, once my only Care,
“As virtuous as thy Consort and as fair,
“But her (sad Cause of Folly to repent)
“To Syria with a numerous Train I sent,
“And there the Toil the treach'rous Toil was spred,
“And there Constantia, there my Child you bled!
“Around the Maid her brave Attendants fell,
“Nor one was left the fatal Tale to tell;

194

“Hence Age through Grief has doubly known Decay,
“And Care untimely turn'd my Locks to grey,
“This Day selected from the circling Year,
“To her I consecrate the annual Tear,
“And these the Chiefs, who in her Quarrel crown'd,
“Have late in Vengeance bath'd the hostile Ground.
“But vain is Vengeance where all Hope is fled,
“Nor Hosts of Victims can revive the Dead,
“My Child! thou'st rob'd my Life of all Delight,
“But Death shall soon our happier Souls unite.”
Nor yet he ended,—when with troubled Mein,
Quick at his Knees low bow'd Britannia's Queen
“Not so, not so, my Father, (loud she cry'd)
“See here thy Child, thy Daughter at thy Side;
“Why look you thus with wild and piercing Eye?
“Your Daughter here, your Daughter you descry!
“Constantia, who through many a Death survives
“And yet to see her King and Sire, arrives.”
“Yes, yes, you are my Child,—these Accents tell,—
He cou'd no more, but on her Neck he fell,

195

Down her soft Cheek his mingling Tears o'erflow,
Joy, Joy too great, assum'd the Form of Woe;
The Roof, Surprize and ecchoing Transport tore,
And Eyes then wept, that never wept before.

Wing'd as an Arrow from some vig'rous Arm,
Through Rome's wide City flew the glad Alarm,
Constantia's here,—she lives,-she lives,—they cry'd,
Constantia now the British Hero's Bride;
Around the Palace pour'd in wild Delight,
On Thousands gath'ring Thousands strait unite;
With ceaseless Clamours and extended Hands,
Constantia's Presence ev'ry Voice demands,
Constantia, Alla, and their lovely Boy,
They claim, the blooming Pledge of future Joy.
Forth strait they come, conspicuous to the View,
And greet with graceful Mien, th' applauding Crew,
In Shouts to Heav'n their Exultations fly,
And universal Joy torments the Sky.

End of Constantia, or the MAN of LAW's TALE.

196

PROLOGUE TO The Squire's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Around, on All, at the Narration gaz'd
Our Host, now highly on his Stirrup rais'd.
“So may my Soul o'er the dire Fiend prevail,
“As this, (he cry'd) was a judicious Tale!
“Body of Jesus, rouze, Sir Parish Priest,
“Our Ears with some delicious Story feast.
“By Heav'ns! I held, before this lucky Day,
“That Men of Learning had the least to say.
“But since the Tales here told, as was agreed,
“In Faith, I worship all that write or read.
“Then up, Sir Parish Priest, at Sound of Bell,
“Fulfil your Promise in the Name of Hell!

197

The Parson answer'd. ‘Bless me, Son, forbear!
‘What ails the Man so sinfully to swear?

“Ho! Jenkins, are you there? (our Host rejoin'd)
“My Friends, I smell a Loller in the Wind.
“Lo, one of Wickliffe's Tribe, his Sermon hear!
“And purify your Heart, and cleanse your Ear!
“Mild is his Aspect, but his Sentence sour,
“He'll pray it, and he'll preach it for an Hour.

‘That shall he not, (reply'd the sprightly Squire)
‘Tho' to expound the Text, without the Hire,
‘Not for this Hour, at least, or pray or preach,
‘New gloss the Gospel, or new Doctrine teach,
‘Let Priests say what they please, repose in Heav'n,
‘Trust All in Him, by whom our All was giv'n.
‘God gave us Being, and we live in God;
‘Our Master he; revere his single Rod:
‘For many a Scruple springs from many a Clerk,
‘Who starts the Doubt, then leaves you in the dark.
‘Attend his heavy Toil, to Night from Morn,
‘'Tis sowing Tares amidst your cleanly Corn:

198

‘And therefore, Host, my genuine Story take;
‘Nor may it lull Attention, but awake.
‘From Physick here, no sage Remark I draw,
‘Nor puzzle you with one quaint Term of Law,
‘Nor from Philosophy, high Matter seek,
‘Nor lard my Tale with Latin or with Greek.
‘Better be wisely gay, than dully read;
‘Small Store of learned Lumber fills my Head.

End of the Prologue.

199

CAMBUSCAN:

OR, The Squire's TALE.

By Mr. BOYSE.

I.

Where peopled Scythia's verdant Plain extend,
East in that Sea, in whose unfathom'd Flood,
Long-winding Volga's rapid Streams descend,
On Oxus' Bank an ancient City stood;
Then Sarra, but to later Ages known,
By rising Samarcand's imperial Name;
There, held a potent Prince his honour'd Throne,
And distant Nations own'd Cambuscan's Fame:
So was the Sultan call'd, whose lengthen'd Sway,
Surrounding Realms revere, and pleas'd his own obey.

200

II.

When nervous Youth had brac'd his valiant Breast,
Oft had the Russian felt his dreadful Arm;
The Persian oft his martial Pow'r carress'd,
And the wild Cossack shrunk at his Alarm;
Strict to the Law th' Arabian Prophet taught,
Compassionately just, and greatly kind,
His Virtue scarce was shaded with a Fault,
True was his League and constant as his Mind:
Great Wealth he had, but well that Wealth enjoy'd,
And Pow'r, Heaven's noblest Gift, as nobly he employ'd.

III.

To raise the Honours of his spotless State,
(A Joy too seldom known in regal Life!)
Fortune had bless'd him with an equal Mate,
And given the fair Eltheta to his Wife;
The graceful Queen, majestick to the View,
Whose blooming Youth had bless'd the Hero's Arms;
Her high Descent from great Arsaces drew,
And native Dignity adorn'd her Charms;

201

Two manly Sons their faithful Union bound,
And one unblemish'd Maid with ev'ry Virtue crown'd.

IV.

Algarsife first who grac'd his youthful Bed,
Breath'd all the Victor's irresistless Flame;
In Camps beneath his Father's Conduct bred,
His Warrior Bosom swell'd for endless Fame;
Well practis'd he the daring Troops to head,
Bold to attack or strike the steady Blow,
Or skill'd with Art the patient March to lead
O'er the long Desart—and surprize the Foe!
With missive Death to guard the wheeling Rear,
As darts the Bolt of Jove,—and shines to disappear.

V.

But young Camballo's more reflective Mind
From his great Sire's immediate Temper drew
A softer Turn, and studiously inclin'd
To judge of Fame in a superior View;
To mend the Genius of the barren Soil,
With prudent Laws the social Ties to bind,

202

To cherish Commerce, and encourage Toil,
With Health the Youth to form, with Truth the Mind,
Arts, whence the publick Welfare takes its Rise,
And Empire lifts her Head, exalted to the Skies!

VI.

Beneath some rooted Oak's projected Shade,
Where twine the Lawrel and the Olive bloom;
In mildest Grace amidst the shelter'd Bed,
The nascent Rose displays its soft Perfume:
Such Canace with all becoming State,
While Love inthron'd from her enchanting Brow,
Dispers'd a thousand Arrows wing'd with Fate,
And smil'd to rule th' admiring World below!
Her Form was Harmony,—all Grace her Air,
As if Perfection, pleas'd, had plac'd its Centre there!

VII.

No Affectation sully'd Beauty's Pride;
No Vanity bespoke a wanton Fire;
In all her Action Virtue seem'd to guide,
Nor knew her chaster Breast a loose Desire:

203

As thro' the lucid Diamonds polish'd Face,
Refulgent pierce the treasur'd Rays of Light;
No Spot the native Lustre can deface,
Which view'd in every Shape is always bright:
So thro' fair Beauty's Mirror undefil'd,
With still-attractive Charms internal Wisdom smil'd.

VIII.

Now twice ten Years had good Cambuscan reign'd,
By early Wars secur'd in honour'd Ease,
And Peace at home, and Fame abroad maintain'd,
Mark'd the meridian Glory of his Days.
In those blest Times, no labour'd Structures rose,
Where Grandeur from the publick Ruin springs,
The splendid Trophies of a People's Woes!
The dearly purchas'd Palaces of Kings!
Far other State his Dignity supports,
Beyond the borrow'd Blaze of Europe's gilded Courts.

IX.

Yet Goodness still a nobler Show supply'd,
Then glittering Guards to awe the subject Eye,

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The hospitable Gates were ever wide,
And safe the Wretched to their Prince drew nigh.
As the warm Sun diffuses golden Day,
So smil'd the common Father of the Land.
As spreads o'er Earth the all-enlivening Ray,
So felt the Meanest his extensive Hand.
Happy, where thus the Sovereign's Bounty warms,
And Goodness lends to Pow'r, a Plenitude of Charms.

X.

From Aries now approach'd the Solar Flame,
While wakeful Spring the wint'ry Chain unbinds.
Nature re-kindles to the amorous Beam,
And swells luxuriant in the Western Winds;
At Flora's Call a thousand Beauties rise,
To dress with Sweets the fair enamell'd Ground,
And to the happy Sense and ravish'd Eyes,
Waft new Delight and fragrant Pleasure round.
Each Bird proclaims his Joy, and thro' the Grove
Resounds the heavenly Song of Harmony and Love!

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XI.

The Season this, when (so their Prophet taught)
The joyful City kept the holy Feast,
Which the wild Saracen with secret Thought,
Reveres, the Bairam of the turban'd East:
On whose preceding Eve, with wonted State,
Thro' ev'ry Street the royal Herald's Sound
Proclaims Cambuscan's Feast to Crouds who wait,
With fond acclaiming Joy their Passage round:
Peace smiles on ev'ry Brow,—and Sarra glad,
Prepares to keep the Day, in all her Pomp array'd.

XII.

Now rose Aurora, robed in pleasing grey,
Her sober Mantle edg'd with beamy Gold!
The early Clarion hails the dawning Ray,
The Gates their Iron Portals wide unfold;
High on a Rock, encircled by the Flood,
Where silver Mazes oft deceiv'd the Eyes,
The Palace rose:—below the City stood,
In Circuit fair, and glitter'd to the Skies!

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A gentle Rising fill'd the Space between,
With Sylvan Pride adorn'd, and Banks of native Green,

XIII.

Here, so the Sultan's honour'd Mandate bore,
Soon as the Sun disclos'd his orient Pride;
Thro' the glad Multitude, that throng'd before,
The Tartar Lords conven'd on ev'ry Side:
Along the fair Ascent, in shining Train,
Towards the Palace march the noble Band;
Pleas'd to renew their annual Vows again,
To see their King, and hail his just Command;
And wish to the past Years by Fate decreed,
In fair continued Course—the future may succeed.

XIV.

But wise Cambuscan, who observant knew,
The Pow'r supreme from whom all Greatness flows,
On this peculiar Day with Homage due
To Heaven returns the Service Grandeur owes.
No vain Idolatry his Heart deceiv'd,
No flattering Names of Mighty, High or Great;

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Grateful he offers ev'ry Praise received
From a glad People and a happy State:
And chiefly on this Morn his Heart prepares
To pay his humble Thanks in Sacrifice and Pray'rs.

XV.

The Pomp begins, the yielding Croud give Way;
A thousand Horse the bright Procession lead;
A chosen Troop, with Bows and Quivers gay,
And bold Algasife glitters at their Head!
Toil mark'd each Limb, and on their hardy Brow,
Sate dreadless Valour, mix'd with Awe severe;
Yet each seem'd pleas'd to grace the Triumph now,
And Peace had soften'd half the Victor's Air:
While as they pass, redoubled Shouts arise,
And Oxus' hilly Banks the Eccho long supplies!

XVI.

The Pontiffs next, Administers of Law,
The hoary Molla, and the Cadi sage,
Whose venerable Looks impress'd an Awe;
For Wisdom gives new Dignity to Age.

208

Not the sour Aspect, nor the formal Beard,
Nor Saint-like Visage, nor dejected Air;
But Virtue dress'd in Cheerfulness appear'd,
And Health and Temperance were pictur'd there.
The joy'd Spectators much their Sight approve,
Whose Goodness careful gain'd the People's honest Love.

XVII.

All in the midst, with precious Care inroll'd
In tissued Bands bedrop'd with many a Gem;
A Camel proud, bedeck'd with Silk and Gold,
The Koran bore, which Mussulmen esteem!
Around the Emirs, whose illustrious Race
From the great Prophet claims its high Descent,
All robed in Green advanced, with gentle Pace
Bestowing numerous Blessings as they went:
A Silence deep ensues,—and ev'ry Look,
With conscious Awe salutes the heaven descended Book.

XVIII.

Then came the Merchants, an un-number'd Band,
With more familiar Mein, the Sons of Peace!

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For Commerce now establish'd thro' the Land,
Had shed its Sweets, and dwelt in ev'ry Face;
Plain was their Garb, and free from gaudy Pride;
For yet no baneful Luxury was known;
But Wealth domestick well that Show supplied,
And frugal Manners kept their Wealth their own,
Fond of the Arts he rais'd, with gentle Air,
Camballo graceful rode a Polish Courser fair.

XIX.

Amidst the Guar dianSages of the Throne,
Where prudent Counsels prop'd his settled State,
Distinguish'd far, the much-lov'd Monarch shone,
Less in Magnificence than Virtue great;
Not the rich Crimson which his Person drest,
Nor Indian Diamond his Tiara crown'd;
Not the Siberian Fur nor Persian Vest,
Nor Syrian Sabre which his Vesture bound;
Such wide Respect produc'd, or fond Acclaim,
As join'd in friendly Bands the King's and Father's Name.

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XX.

Here the enfeebled Sight its Force excell'd,
Eager its great Protector to survey;
As fond the Eye of Infancy beheld,
Striving to bear some Feature fond away;
That Age the grateful Image might renew,
That Youth might strong imprint Cambuscan's Name,
While to the worthy Monarch's smiling View,
His People's Bliss in present Prospect came!
A Pleasure this which Virtue only finds,
The Wreath which Truth confers, and Fame eternal binds!

XXI.

The Rites perform'd,—and every Prayer addrest,
Which Faith exacts, or Piety can pay;
The Day's fair Interval the People past,
In manly Exercise, and floral Play:
Algarsife pleas'd the active Youth regards,
Excites the Modest, and commends the Brave;
Assigns proportioned Merit its Rewards,
And teaches all with Vigour to behave:

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In mimic Squadrons forms the flying Horse,
And animates the Rage, and Order of the Course.

XXII.

Mean while Cambuscan, with the elder Chiefs,
And young Camballo held the cool Debate;
With Care consult to ease the Peoples Griefs,
The Means to strengthen and improve the State.
From neighb'ring Tribes commission'd Envoys press,
To court his Friendship, or his League renew;
From subject Provinces with glad Address,
New Deputies salute their Monarch's View;
Who all with condescending Grace receives,
And tenderly to each his just Instructions gives.

XXIII.

Now from the Zenith flam'd the Orb of Day,
When to the Royal Square, selected Place,
The warlike Trumpet warns the Guests away,
Where the King's Banquet spreads its gladsome Face,
Decent around the pleas'd Attendants smile,
Appointed to fulfil their Lord's Commands:

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The meanest they salute with courteous Stile,
And not a Stranger unregarded stands.
Well from their Prince they learn the gentle Art
With fair Humanity to charm the honest Heart.

XXIV.

Near hand, allotted to the princely Train,
A spacious Hall receiv'd each nobler Guest;
Where to the dazzled Eye a brighter Scene
Display'd the Treasures of the downy East;
The Walls dispread with Persia's Tap'stry, shine;
The azure Roof emboss'd with figur'd Gold;
Of Casbin's richest Loom the Carpets twine,
Where many a flow'ry Maze appear'd enroll'd;
And Golden Censers, plac'd in proper Room,
With all Arabia's Sweets embalm'd the fragrant Dome.

XXV.

Silent, around the Slaves attendant wait,
Silent, the watchful Grooms dispose the Feast;
Silence and Order mark the Asian State,
The Sign imperial, and submissive Breast:

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With China's largest Bowls they spread the Board,
From ev'ry Element the Spoils they take
The richest Dainties Sarra can afford,
Fish from the Stream, and Fowls that haunt the Lake.
The Fawn and Stag the specious Forests yield,
And Herbs and various Fruits the cultivated Field.

XXVI.

Their Drinks, Sherbets attemper'd to the Taste,
A thousand diff'rent Ways with Eastern Art;
Where mingling Spices give a racy Zest,
And warm, like cordial Wine, the gladden'd Heart.
Mean time, the Commons, with inferior Fare,
Harsh, seeming to our nicer Eye, regale;
The Forest-Fruits, the curdled Milk of Mare,
Or Grain, the Product of the fertile Vale:
With purest Water from the chrystal Stream,
That feeds with cool Supplies Life's quick consuming Flame!

XXVII.

Concludes the Feast, with ev'ry Service paid,
When from the publick Square's capacious Bound,

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Appear full fifty Youths in White array'd,
Of comely Form, with rich Tiaras crown'd;
Each at his Side, with Care attendant leads
A shapely Courser of Tartarian Breed;
Who neighing, seems to spurn the Ground he treads,
As conscious of his Servitude decreed:
Marks of that Duty Sarra loyal owes,
For all the peaceful Sweets Cambuscan's Reign bestows!

XXVIII.

An hundred Virgins, each of fairest Hue,
In flowing Robes of brightest Azure drest,
Succeed in soft Procession, two by two:
Their beauteous Brows with flow'ry Chaplets grac'd,
Their lovely Hands a shining Treasure bore,
Which new-establish'd Commerce brought from far;
The Indian Gem, the Pearl from Ormus Shore,
The Tyrian Purple, and the painted Jar;
Or the domestick Spoils of Sarra's Field,
The costly-ermin'd Furs her ample Forests yield.

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XXIX.

These Presents offer'd with respectful Care,
Rewarded by the gracious Monarch's Smile,
Amidst the Dome, a second Train appear
Of foreign Beauties from Circassia's Soil:
From native Sweets the Infant-Captives brought
With melting Charms barbaric Hearts to move,
Early in ev'ry Art of Pleasing taught
To sing, to smile, to languish, and to love!
Magnificently gay, the Band advance,
And with harmonious Air begin the wanton Dance!

XXX.

At this—a Sight too loose for Wisdom's Awe,
Whose Strictness views such Mirth with Eye severe;
Prepare the King and Sages to withdraw,
That Youth its more appropriate Joys may share;
When unforeseen, as wak'ning Tempests rise,
When troubl'd Ocean heaves with conscious Fear;
Such, and so strange the gath'ring Murmur flies,
Increasing, till it gains the Royal Ear:

216

Sudden the Music stops,—the Dancers cease,
And new-born Wonder sits confess'd in ev'ry Face!

XXXI.

Soon shines the Cause—for now the Crowd divides,
When nobly mounted, of distinguish'd Mien,
Entring, a graceful Stranger boldly rides;
His Helm unbrac'd, and in his Visage seen
Valour, by long Experience made sedate:—
His Courser form'd of Brass, whose burnish'd Light
Reflected beamy Rays of mimic Heat;
A moving Meteor to the dazzled Sight!
Proud of his Charge, he fiercely glanc'd Disdain,
And bent his shapely Neck beneath the potent Rein!

XXXII.

The Knight's Right Hand the flaming Steed compell'd,
With gentle Awe, and half his Rage repress'd;
His Left to View a polish'd Mirror held,
Of oval Form, in figur'd Gold enchas'd:
His Finger glitter'd with the radiant Pride,
An oriental Saphyr wide display'd:

217

A naked Scymitar adorn'd his Side;
With Torquoise-Hilt, of damask'd Steel the Blade:
His comely Personage, and strange Attire,
Cambuscan studious Eyes, and much the Court admire.

XXXIII.

Then mild advancing, where th' Imperial Throne
Erected, to the distant Sight ascends;
Quick from his wondrous Steed alighting down,
Before the King the gentle Envoy bends!
Then to the throng'd Assembly turns his Eyes,
With due Obedience paid to all around;
While general Silence marks a pleas'd Surprize,
And not a Whisper steals along the Ground:
Each Aspect earnest on the Issue hung,
When thus the Knight began, with no ungraceful Tongue!

XXXIV.

“To Thee, for Virtue as for Arms renown'd,
“Whose Name to distant Lands extends its Rays;
“Whose Youth with Fame, whose Age with Honours crown'd,
“Asia repeats!—too narrow for thy Praise!

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“Our holy Califf, whose all-righteous Sway,
“Thro' happy Nations spreads one common Smile;
“Northward from Ormus to the Euxine Sea,
“And West from Indus to the Banks of Nile;
“To thee, Al-raschid, round whose renown'd Head
“May Heav'n its balmy Dew of constant Blessings shed!

XXXV.

“To Thee, whose Piety, his Zeal befriends,
“Whose Arms have triumph'd in the Prophet's Cause;
“These Marks of Amity our Califf sends,
“Proofs of his Estimation and Applause!
“Nor slight the Presents, tho' no Form they wear,
“That seems attractive to a Monarch's Eye;
“More secret Worth they boast, and Virtues rare,
“Than all the Treasures hid beneath the Sky,
“Which Heav'n-taught Science only can bestow,
“And mystic Talismans, that rule the World below.

XXXVI.

“This Steed, which, mighty Prince, you now behold
“As motionless,—tho' recent from the Reins,

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“Form'd, tho' in semblance of metallic Mold,
“Yet in himself the Springs of Life retains;
“Less fleet the feather'd Arrow wings its Way,
“Borne on the Pinions of the breezy Wind,
“Less swift the canvass'd Vessel skims the Sea,
“Then leave his Steps the less'ning Space behind,
“Brave the surrounding Deep, where Oceans flow,
“Or mount the steep broad Rock, and lose the Plain below!

XXXVII.

“Or, would'st thou from the Sphere terrestrial rise,
“And learn the boundless Regions of the Air?
“Th' aerial Guide shall waft thee thro' the Skies
“To the remotest Star that glitters there!
“Firm shall he bear thy trusted Weight impress'd
“Thro' Floods that threaten, or thro' Fires that glow!
“Or guard thee with impenetrable Breast,
“Thro' pointed Javelins o'er the prostrate Foe:
“For the sage Author form'd his just Design
“With Planetary Skill, and Artifice Divine!

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XXXVIII.

“Yet rooted shall the beauteous Image stand,
“A lifeless Monument shall press the Place;
“Void of all Sense, and deaf to all Command,
“Nor human Force disturb it from its Base;
“Unless thy Thought the mystic Words retain,
“That wake to Motion the insensate Mass;
“That give Direction to the rapid Rein,
“Or stop the Springs of animated Brass”.
He paus'd:—diffusive as the Murmur ran,
When thus resuming soon—th' Embassador began.

XXXIX.

“This Mirror—so our Empress fair commands,
“As Pledge of mutual Faith and Friendship meant;
“To thy Imperial Consort's beauteous Hands,
“With grateful Joy, commission'd, I present!
“No specious Forms from hence reflected glare,
“No shadowy Objects of material kind;
“But mental Truths within disclos'd appear,
“Fate's future Births Enquiry here shall find;

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“And in the optic Plane thy Thought shall trace
“The various Fortunes wait thy long descending Race.

XL.

“Does War or Faction threat thy promis'd Reign?
“Here shalt thou see the Perils, and avert;
“Does Plague or Famine hover near thy Plain?
“A timely Caution shall arise from Art:
“If Falshood lurks in Flatt'ry's fair Disguise?
“Here Truth's fair Face shall point the Syren's Face!
“If Vice, by Virtue's Ruin, aims to rise?
“Here shall it meet thy Knowledge and Disgrace:
“And thy observant Thought with Ease shall find
“The variegated Shapes that veil the human Mind.

XLI.

“Here pleas'd, thy gentle Sultaness shall prove,
“A thousand Ways the sportive Mirror's Skill;
“Survey the Crafts of Jealousy and Love,
“The Stratagems that wait a Female Will:
“Thro' ev'ry Maze the shifting Heart pursue,
“From Fancy's Start, to Reason's close Retreat;

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“Observe Imagination's subtile Clue,
“And mark Ideas, how they rise and set.
“Gain'd but the Key—which to the Queen I bear,
“Long may her Virtues prove the Guardian Mirror's Care!

XLII.

So said,—the Present with complacent Air
To an Attendant near, the Envoy gave;
When thus proceeding—“Further speaks my Care,
“If Thou, all gracious Monarch, grant the Leave!
“For thus our Sov'reign Lady bade me say;
“Pleas'd, has she heard a Northern Princess Fame:
“One Faith we keep, one Prophet we obey;
“Let closer Bands unite our Sister's Name!
“The Rose of Tigris, Sarra's Violet woos,
“And with this mystic Ring her valu'd Friendship sues!

XLIII.

“When from the Earth the King of Wisdom fled,
“Whose Science pierc'd thro' Matter's boundless Field;
“When mourn'd the East that Salomon was dead,
“To whom the Realms of Spirit stood reveal'd;

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“The potent Seal incircling, grac'd his Hand,
“Whence all its Pow'r this Gem's Impression takes,
“Obedient Nature feels its wide Command,
“And at its Call a new Creation breaks.
“Each vegetable Birth its Power reveals,
“The noxious Weed that kills, or Plant that wholesome heals!

XLIV.

“Or, would the Princess, while with cheerful Eyes
“She views the Beauties of the op'ning Spring,
“Curious enquire the Language of the Skies,
“Or learn the Notes the feather'd Nations sing?
“Hence shall the vocal Natives of the Groves,
“With well-known Hymns salute her early Walk;
“Hence shall their Laws, their Manners, and their Loves
“Become familiar Subjects of her Talk:
“And while the Sylvan World her Thoughts command,
“Her grateful Mind shall own a Princess' gen'rous Hand.

XLV.

He said, and bow'd, and Speech resum'd once more,
While from his Side he drew the shining Blade,

224

“And last this Gift the Califf's Order bore,
“Be to your princely Sons with Honour paid,
“Such is the Temper of the deadly Steel,
“Nor the firm Marble, nor the rooted Oak,
“Not Arms of Adamant its Touch can feel
“Unmov'd, or bear the Fury of its Stroke:
“No Earthly Wight its Contest may endure,
“No Skill of Pharmacy its left Erasure cure.

XLVI.

“Yet strange, tho' true, its double Charms prevail,
“With friendly Care to raise the vanquish'd Foe;
“The fatal Wound the Hilt alone can heal,
“And with immediate Ease relieve the Blow;
“From the deep Gash, tho' stream'd the vital Flood,
“And the wing'd Soul sate ready to depart;
“Restrain'd, at once shall stop the issuing Blood,
“With cordial Life again to warm the Heart!
“Its Sov'reign Touch the Balm of Health restore,
“As Mercy's gentle Hand allays the Rage of Pow'r.

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XLVII.

“Nor judge, great Prince, the Gifts as ill assign'd,
“Directed by our Califf's holy Views;
“Safe is the Steed, in thy disposing Mind,
“Whose Virtue never can his Pow'r abuse;
“The Mirror well thy Consort may behold,
“Reflecting all her Innocence sincere;
“Well may the Ring the Daughter's Hand enfold,
“Whose Soul is like the spotless Person, fair:
“And aided by the Sword thy future Race,
‘Shall to the Toils of War, unite the Arts of Peace!

XLVIII.

Submiss he ceas'd:—when rising from his Throne
The Monarch mild descending stretch'd his Hand,
Well pleas'd the grateful Embassy to own,
Borne by the Service of so wise a Hand:
When thus:—“Kind Stranger! not the Voice of Fame,
“That spreads its Sound diffus'd to either Poll;
“Can raise the Lustre of our Califf's Name,
“Or more endear his Virtues to my Soul:

226

“In whom the Prophet's Viceroy I revere,
“And with continued Joy, his daily Praises hear!

XLIX.

“His noble Gifts with Pleasure I receive,
“Which secret Worth, and mystic Value boast
“But more esteem the Faith he yields to give,
“His Friendship ever wish'd and honour'd most.
“Yet rare thy Presents and exceeding far,
“The various Gems our eastern World brings forth.
“The Ruby rich, the Diamond's mimick Star,
“Or the unblemish'd Pearl of orient Worth,
“Greatly beyond what Sarra's Regions lend,
“Or all the Sylvan Spoils, her ample Forests send!

L.

“Welcome thy Presence on this festal Day,
“To grace the Honours of our Royal Feast,
“When Pleasure sits on ev'ry Aspect gay,
“And in my People's Joy is mine confess'd:
“Tho' us'd to better Cheer, which Heav'n bestows,
“On Lands in happier Climes their Lot assign'd;

227

“Where Bagdad rises, or where Tygris flows,
“And Earth untaught is still benignly kind.
“Where the mild Sun declines in Beauty gay,
“Or Beams, with orient Charms to dress the Face of Day.

LI.

“Yet here till thy Return, the Greeting find,
“Our barren Country yields the Toiler's Use;
“Where Nature won, and by Compulsion kind,
“Consents but coy to aid the slow Produce;
“Yet such the Pow'r of the industrious Hand
“That Year by Year the Soil more kindly grows,
“Art pours new Beauties o'er the changing Land,
“And by Degrees increasing Plenty flows,
“Our Forests shrink, as new Plantations rise,
“And Culture spreads new Fields to the delighted Skies.

LII.

“Mean time, associate at our Royal Board,
“Accept the Cares our Gratitude would pay;
“Freely command what Sarra can afford,
“To ease the Labours of the tedious Way.”

228

He ceas'd,—and smiling with a gracious Hand
He plac'd the honour'd Stranger by his Side,
While round the noblest Chiefs, a shining Band,
Approach to welcome him with decent Pride.
His courteous Speech and Manner all admire,
And of the Syrian Court, the News they much enquire.

LIII.

Now plenteous had the gentle Envoy din'd,
Pleas'd with the Treatment which the Monarch gave,
When from the Zenith now the Sun declin'd,
To cool his Ardors in the Caspian Wave;
When thus the King—“Not here we boast the Means
“To give thy Character the Honours due;
“One easy Step to crown thy Toil remains,
“Eastward our regal Castle stands in View,
“There take thy Rest most welcome, and receive
“That Friendship and Respect our Amity shall give.

LIV.

The Monarch rose,—th' officious Guard attend;
The Knight with graceful Air his Courser leads,

229

On Horseback, with the Tartar Prince ascends,
And to the Palace all the Pomp proceeds:
But most his Steed from the admiring Croud
New Wonder drew, and much Enquiry rais'd:
So stately was his Port, so firm he trod,
That all his Gesture and Proportion prais'd;
And own'd, of foreign and domestick Breed,
Eye never yet had seen, a more majestick Steed.

LV.

Of due Dimensions was his mediate Size,
While, loosly floating from his Swan-like Crest,
Bright wav'd his Mane!—deep piercing were his Eyes,
Strong were his Limbs, and broad his burnish'd Breast;
Thick from his Nostrils breath'd the fiery Steam;
His Tail behind a Length of Splendor flew;
He seem'd to move within an Orb of Flame!
So much appear'd the wondrous Object new,
That all intent, pursue th' amazing Sight,
So much does vulgar Minds all Novelty delight!

230

LVI.

Now to the Palace reach'd the Cavalcade,
Where the strange Warrior and the King alight,
And with his usual Grace, Cambuscan paid,
Repeated Welcome to the Syrian Knight;
Strict o'er his Horse's Neck the passive Reins
With artificial Care the Envoy drew,
When lo! all motionless the Form remains,
Nor Life discover'd, nor Sensation knew:
Fix'd as the Basis of the rocky Stone,
The dead inactive Brass return'd a hollow Groan.

LVII.

They bear the Califf's Sword before the King,
While to the Hall of State the Knight attends;
Inward the Mirror and the mystick Ring
To the Imperial Fair the Sultan sends;
Kindly requiring to the present Feast
The beauteous Queen and Princess may repair,
With Royal Kindness to regale their Guest,
And all the Rites of hospitable Care:

231

That Syrian Dames, from his Report may know,
That Gentleness can live amidst a Land of Snow!

LVIII.

Mean time without, around the famous Horse
In Crowds the Usbeck City seems to spread;
Much they survey his Make. and much discourse,
As varied Notions fill the vulgar Head:
To Magic some the strange Effects impute,
Each to his Fancy forms a diff'rent Cause;
Little they reason, greatly they dispute,
And still the loudest most Attention draws:
As Ignorance to Knowledge pores its Route,
Never proceeds direct—but wanders still about!

LIX.

Like as a Swarm of Bees new-gath'ring play,
Issuing advent'rous from their native Home;
They spread thick murm'ring to the Evening-Ray,
And yet of Habitation dubious roam;
Till the wise Husbandman with tuneful Sound,
Beneath the Shade the vagrant Tumult draws;

232

They wandring, stop, and view the Dome around,
And fix their Colony with loud Applause:
So circling round the Horse, the Tartars croud,
And speak their vast Surprize, with Acclamations loud!

LX.

Return we now, invited to the Hall,
Where fairer Objects our Attendance claim;
Such as are envy'd and admir'd by all,
The graceful Courtier, and the beauteous Dame;
What, tho' no Dances fir'd the Virgin chaste,
Less charming did the mild Engagers seem?
What, tho' no Smiles the Courtier's Brow defac'd,
Less worthy was his Honour of Esteem?
To us, indeed, such Manners wild may show,
Where Dress creates a Belle, and Vanity a Beau!

LXI.

Yet as Restraint but fans the am'rous Fire,
And Nature's Laws can never be suppress'd;
So the soft Bosom heav'd with young Desire,
And the fond Eye the tender Heart confess'd:

233

Venus who then in Pisces held her Court,
With friendly Rays beheld th' enamour'd Pair,
Approv'd the Intercourse, and bless'd the Sport,
Beyond my faint Description to declare:
Her Arts the Roman Muse can better tell,
For none should sing of Love, but those his Influence feel.

LXII.

Nor wanted cordial Drinks, or Viands rare
To cheer the Soul and grace the Royal Feast;
The gentle Empress made that Task her Care,
With choicest Fare to treat the grateful Guest;
But more than all her matchless Converse charm'd,
Where Wisdom flow'd from the instructed Heart:
Where beam'd kind Gentleness, and beaming warm'd
With cunning Softness the attracted Heart.
Scarce could the ravish'd Knight his Looks refrain;
Or if she ceas'd, not wish the Joy commence again.

LXIII.

Oft to the King-unseen he turn'd his Eyes,
Or in the Sons remark'd their Father's Air,

234

Oft he beheld the Queen with new Surprize,
But most the Princess amiably fair!
The more he look'd he saw on each imprest
The Marks of Majesty that awe the Sight,
An Air of Greatness not to be express'd,
Which calls for Homage, while it gives Delight;
Something that more of Dignity confers,
Then all the glittering Toys the ermin'd Monarch wears.

LXIV.

Hard to describe, whence springs this Air assign'd
In Man and Brute to Excellence of Race;
This outward Mark of a superior Mind,
That seems to claim Precedency of Place;
But that Experience shows by constant Course
The noblest Animals their like create;
From the selected Sire, the generous Horse,
Derives his Fire, and springs from Earth elate!
Hears the glad Trumpet calling from afar,
And rapid pours his Flight amidst the Rage of War!

235

LXV.

In Man's imperial Race th' Effect's the same,
Whatever Cause the like Distinction breeds;
Whether from mutual Passion springs the Flame,
Or Minds congenial stamp the vital Seeds?
Else on extended Guinea's torrid Coast,
Where the broad Mouth and Nose deprest prevail,
In those who regal Blood and Lineage boast
Why do the gen'ral Features rarely fail?
Why shows the Austrian Lip the Austrian Line?
And in some semblant Mark, the Hero loves to shine!

LXVI.

Now the shrill Trumpet warn'd the Flight of Day
The loud Muëzin call'd to Ev'ning Pray'r;
When rose Cambuscan, such his usual Way,
With all his Court to Worship to repair.
That Duty paid,—returning as they pass,
Along the spacious Castle's outer Square
The Sultan stop'd to view the Steed of Brass
Incompass'd as he stood by Numbers there,

236

And begs the Knight the Secret would disclose,
To which the beauteous Form the Pow'rs of Motion owes.

LXVII.

To whom the Knight,—“O King! whose just Concern
“Still nourishes Devotion's purest Flame;
“Nor need I tell,—nor need thy Wisdom learn,
“The Wonders wrought by the Almighty Name.
“By this inspir'd our holy Prophet wrought,
“Performances exceeding Reason's Line;
“High Miracles beyond the Reach of Thought,
“That Infidels might own the Faith Divine,
“Whose Call the Earth and Air and Fire obey,
“And the relentless Grave, and the unfathom'd Sea!

LXVIII.

“When taught by this, the slumb'ring Steed you wake;
“Firm seize the Reins, and with this Pin secure;
“Undaunted then the destin'd Journey take,
“Thro' ev'ry Element the Course is sure.
“Wouldst thou thy March continue or be still,
“Touch but the Pin and whisper but the Word,

237

“The Steed obedient shall observe thy Will,
“Shall vanish at thy Call or stand restor'd,
“Only the Bridle and the Pin retain,
“Else lost is ev'ry Care, and every Project vain.

LXIX

So said,—he to the King's attentive Ear,
With Rev'rence due the mystick Word unfolds;
The Monarch bow'd, and with concealing Care
The Word repeats, and fast the Bridle holds;
Quick as Life's Current glides along the Veins,
The warm Sensation so his Touch perceiv'd;
That thaw'd the Stiffness of the brazen Reins,
While the firm Chest with new Vibration heav'd:
His Eyes their Fire resum'd, he rais'd his Head,
And stately walk'd along, as pleas'd the Sultan led!

LXX.

Cambuscan much the gentle Steed caress'd,
Thus grown familiar to his leading Hand,
The gentle Steed an equal Joy confess'd,
To serve the generous Monarch's just Command:

238

Much to the num'rous Court assembled round
The King his Shape and his Behaviour prais'd,
The Court applauding still return'd the Sound,
And all the Voice of Admiration rais'd:
Till from his Neck the Reins at once he drew,
And vanish'd quick the Steed from ev'ry Mortal's View!

LXXI.

The Sword and Bridle with peculiar Care,
Deputed Nobles by the King's Command,
Safe to the Castle's strongest Fortress bear,
Where all the Monarch's ample Treasures stand;
The Royal Company direct return,
In social Mirth to crown the happy Night;
While round perfum'd a thousand Tapers burn
And the whole Palace seems illumin'd bright,
The Feast renews, the Converse sprightly grows,
And Chearfulness around her balmy Influence throws.

LXXII.

The worthy King, whose long experienc'd Years
Had made him judge of Manners and of Minds,

239

Pleas'd with the Syrian's Converse much appears,
For Virtue soon its own Resemblance finds:
Some secret Sympathy of Nature draws,
With its coercive Bands the noble Soul;
As Unisons accord harmonious Cause,
Or the fondle Needle trembles to its Pole!
Tis thus each other know the truly Great,
Without the tedious Forms inferior Friendships wait.

LXXIII.

Mean time between the Princes rose Debate
About the wond'rous Steed the Envoy brought,
Algarsife urging, with his usual Heat,
The Motion some informing Genie wrought:
But cool Camballo with a sceptic Air,
Seem'd to believe the Secret lay within,
That hid remain'd the Springs of Action there,
And mov'd or ceas'd directed by the Pin:
Each brings new Proofs the other to confute,
Till to the Monarch's Ear arriv'd the warm Dispute.

240

LXXIV.

Silent a while the King Reflection made
And saw the Point not easy to decide;
Till kind Remembrance usher'd to his Aid,
A hoary Sage, whose Skill he oft had try'd:
By Birth a Mede, but whose enquiring Sight
Each Region of the travell'd East had known,
Wisdom the Object sole of his Delight,
And the whole Sphere of Knowledge seem'd his own.
Nor read in Books alone, his generous Mind,
Embrac'd with cordial Zeal the Welfare of Mankind.

LXXV.

The various Faiths the peopled World divide
Justly impartial had his Thought survey'd;
Reason his Standard still, and Truth his Guide,
Nor Interest, Prejudice or Passion weigh'd:
The Magi's Books he knew, the Brachmin's Lore,
Th' Egyptian Figure, the Jewish Rite,
The Christian Law, intended to restore,
But now defac'd by Superstition quite:

241

With the mix'd Plan th' Arabian Prophet drew,
O'er Asia now which spread, as new Religions do.

LXXVI.

He saw, that Nature thro' her wide Command,
O'er all her Works diffus'd one equal Smile,
Nor kept the Bounties of her lavish Hand,
Confin'd to this or that peculiar Soil:
He knew, that vain was ev'ry Art, design'd
To check the Freedom of the humane Will;
That no Restraints could shackle up the Mind,
Which, self-determin'd, kept her Empire still:
And in th' extended Scene of humane Race,
As varied were the Thoughts, as various was the Face!

LXXVII.

Hence Casroes (so the Median Sage's Name)
This healing Principle reflective drew;
Others Opinions candid not to blame,
But calm the Paths of Wisdom to pursue!
Pleas'd with the little Nature's Hand requires,
Wealth, Honour, Pleasures, Titles he disdain'd;

242

Few were his Wants, as mod'rate his Desires,
The happy Master of himself he reign'd!
A Joy, to all but Minds serene, unknown,
Beyond the Wreaths of Fame, or Splendors of a Throne,

LXXVIII.

On a fair Bank, by Oxus winding Shore,
Inclos'd with Wood, a little Spot he found;
There had he fix'd his Rest—and greatly poor,
Liv'd on the Fruits of his domestic Ground:
Oft had Cambuscan, tir'd with Cares of State,
Sought the Refreshment of his little Cave;
There philosophic held the cool Debate,
Nor scorn'd the Counsels which his Wisdom gave.
Whose Life reveal'd the Value of his Art,
And to the learned Head was join'd the honest Heart.

LXXIX.

For him immediate then the Sultan sends,
His seasonable Presence to require;
The worthy Sage the Messenger attends,
And comes obedient to the King's Desire.

243

His Head with Age's Frost was silver'd o'er,
But on his Check still blush'd the temp'rate Rose.
Decent, tho' plain, a flowing Robe he wore,
And manly Dignity his Person shows.
For such his Carriage seem'd, and gentle Port,
As if his Life had been no Stranger to a Court.

LXXX.

The Syrian Knight (for so requests the King)
The Nature of the Califf's Gifts explains;
The Horse, the Sword, the Mirror, and the Ring,
And points the Qualities which each retains:
When thus Cambuscan—“Cosroes! O declare,
“For best the Truth thy Wisdom can impart,
“Whence boast these Presents such Perfection rare?
“From Nature springs the Secret, or from Art?
“Or animates the Steed some Pow'r divine?
“Or do mechanic Wheels direct the bold Design?

LXXXI.

To whom the Sage—“Not, mighty Prince, we boast,
“Of such mysterious Gifts to judge the Cause:

244

“Least knows the Wisest, when he knows the most,
“Of Matter's Properties, and Motion's Laws:
“Form'd of two Principles distinguish'd quite,
“We find distinctly our corporeal Frame:
“Spirit, we know, with Matter can unite;
“Yet search in vain from whence the Union came,
“Or, where subsists invisible the Tye,
“Which fastens Life it self, and losing which we die.

LXXXII.

“What gives Commission to the Wintry War,
“When the loud Storm enchafes the troubled Deep,
“Or sooths to Peace the Elemental Jar,
“And hushes the relenting Winds to sleep!
“What causes the pale Moon's alternate Light,
“By turns replenish, and by turns decay,
“Fair as she glides along the Face of Night!
“And shapes thro' mazy Clouds her pathless Way.
“Or from what Origin those Clouds ascend,
“In vain our feeble Sense would strive to comprehend.

245

LXXXIII.

“All the Phenomena of boundless Air,
“Which strike with Wonder the unsettl'd Eye,
“The Meteors flash, the Comets ruddy Glare,
“Or the loud Thunder bursting from the Sky!
“The dark Eclipse, when o'er the Orb of Day
“Its gloomy Stain prevailing Darkness sheds;
“The shining Bow, whose variegated Ray
“O'er the pale Cloud its painted Circlet spreads!
“In vain our low Researches would pursue,
“With weak defective Schemes of Science still untrue.

LXXXIV.

“Yet Science sees direct—far as it may,
“While Ignorance in endless Darkness pores;
“Safe treads the Sage, where Reason points the Way
“One sov'reign Cause discovers and adores!
“The further that in Nature's Road he treads,
“He sees eternal Wisdom guide the Whole!
“The more the glitt'ring Page of Heav'n he reads,
“He feels that Wisdom penetrate the Soul!

246

“And what the Vulgar view with careless Eyes,
“Silent contemplates He with Pleasure and Surprize,

LXXXV.

“Matter he sees, as struggling to a Birth,
“Thro' all its elemental Forms aspire;
“Earth rise from Water, Air refine from Earth,
“To mount, and purify it self in Fire!
“Fire! the first Principle, whose vital Ray,
“Heat, Motion, Sense, and Life productive breeds,
“That circling from th' exhaustless Source of Day,
“Wakens from Death the dull material Seeds;
“That to it self attractive, all invites,
“Till in the Parent-Cause Creation fond unites!

LXXXVI.

“This, sure, we know,—that Matter has its Laws,
“By which impell'd, the stubborn Mass obeys;
“That secret Sympathy some Objects draws,
“And by its Pow'r can seeming Wonders raise!
“Hence, would it seem, that this mysterious Horse,
“Tho' form'd to Semblance of material Mold,

247

“Is taught to move by sympathetic Force,
“And to perform at Will the Actions told;
“As the Greek Pegasus was fam'd to bear,
“The bold Bellerophon through Tracts of boundless Air.

LXXXVII.

“Hence taught, the Sage to Matter can infuse
“New Qualities to suit his just Design;
“Can shape the Mass subservient to his Views,
“And give the Workmanship a Stamp divine!
“Thus, in the honour'd Califf's precious Sword
“Opposing Virtues may their Influence shed;
“The Hilt, may salutary Balm afford,
“To close the Wound the Edge relentless made.
“As fam'd Achilles' Spear confess'd the Art,
“To cure th' inflicted Stroke, and ease the deadly Smart.

LXXXVIII.

“Thus may the Mirror, and the mystic Ring
“The gentle Knight's Description well maintain;
“From planetary Skill their Virtues spring,
“Which only deep-read Science can attain:

248

“As o'er affrighted Misraim's fertile Land,
“The Wand of Moses Desolation spread,
“Or grac'd the Signet Salomon's right Hand,
“Whose Pow'r could wake the Slumbers of the Dead:
“Could from the Eye remove the Veil of Night,
“And place the Realms of Spirit to th' astonish'd Sight!

LXXXIX.

“But while, Cambuscan! thou exalt thy Head,
“In peaceful Sway and foreign Friendships blest,
“Remember Heav'n, that all thy Greatness made,
“Nor let weak Pride pollute thy Royal Breast!
“All that we see in Life's deceitful Dream,
“Like us, the vain Spectators, glides away!
“Only great Orosmanes shines the same,
“Unwasted Fountain of eternal Day!
“Who in himself all Nature comprehends,
“From whom all Beings spring, in whom all Being ends.

XC.

He ceas'd—attentive as the Syrian Knight
Heard the sweet Accents flowing from his Tongue,

249

And felt within such exquisite Delight,
He had not thought a Summer's Audience long.
The Monarch Thanks return'd—th' applauding Croud
With common Voice repeat the Sage's Praise:
Night now began to spread her heavy Shroud,
And call the weary'd Limbs to needful Ease:
Cambuscan rose—the Court retire to Rest,
And on her midnight Throne deep Silence reigns confest.

XCI.

O gentle Sleep! thou Cherisher of Health!
From Temp'rance bred, the Nurse of sweet Repose!
In whom the Peasant finds a Mine of Wealth!
To whom his Happiness the Lover owes!
Thou Balm of Life! whose kindly Warmth restores
Light to the Eyes, and Vigour to the Heart!
Whose Presence Luxury in vain implores,
Kind while thou fly'st to take Afflictions part!
Say, by what magic Fetters dost thou bind
In thy delightful Thrall the agitated Mind?

250

XCII.

Inthron'd on mazy Oxus' verdant Shore,
We left thee, Goddess, of thy Sway possest;
Cambuscan's Palace felt thy peaceful Pow'r,
And thro' the Gloom thy Influence sate confest:
Fair Dreams, thy beauteous Handmaids, all around
To ev'ry Guest thy busy Mandates spred;
Each, by their Ministry, contented found,
The sep'rate Joy to which their Wishes led:
Soft am'rous Vows th' unblushing Virgin hears,
And to the Warriors View the glitt'ring Camp appears!

XCIII.

Thee, placid Queen of Night—the Sultan own'd,
In shining Visions of recover'd Arms!
Thou, to the Syrian lengthen'd Wisdom's Sound,
And Cosroës still his fix'd Attention charms:
But most the Tartar Princess claim'd thy Care,
To sooth the soft Impatience of her Breast;
Her curious Thoughts the Ring's Impression bear,
And new Ideas interrupt her Rest,

251

In Fancy she surveys the Sylvan Scenes,
And hears the feather'd Choirs—and learns their tuneful Strains!

XCIV.

Calm were her usual Slumbers wont to be:
Calm as the Current of her temp'rate Blood;
Calm as her blameless Soul, from Passions free,
That knew no Evil, and that wish'd all Good!
Yet something—whence she knew not, what or how,
Invasive now infected her Repose:
She felt soft Quiet vanish from her Brow,
And e're the Morning dawn'd, the Princess rose!
She calls her Virgin-Train, who near remain'd,
And instant at her Call her Virgin-Train attend,

XCV.

Great was their Fright, and obvious their Concern,
What Cause so soon their gentle Mistress rais'd;
Till from her self inform'd, her Health they learn,
And by her Smiles they find their Fears appeas'd;
But chief Olinda—more a Friend than Slave,
Whom from Podolia lawless Rapine drew;

252

Whom to his Daughter great Cambuscan gave,
By Purchase his, e're yet her self she knew:
Whose modest Worth had gain'd the Princess' Ear,
By long experienc'd Tyes of faithful Duty dear!

XCVI.

Now rosy Morn, the Harbinger of Day,
Beam'd o'er the azure Hills with Radiance bright!
Awak'ning Nature felt the gladsome Ray,
And smil'd as conscious of approaching Light;
When the fair Princess issu'd to the Plain,
Attended by a Band of lovely Maids;
Such Cynthia, when amidst her sportive Train,
Her early Horn resounds in Latmos' Shades:
Cloth'd in a lightsome Dress; thus bends her Way,
To grace the flow'ry Field, this charming Queen of May!

XCVII.

By Oxus' Side, engirt with Wood-brow'd Hills,
A spacious Compass lay the Sylvan Scene!
Thro' which clear-streaming ran two mazy Rills,
That fed the Soil with ever-living Green;

253

But as the Ground unequal check'd the View,
So by degrees its varied Beauties rose;
Dales, Rocks or Groves form Landskips ever new,
And blending Prospects new Delights disclose.
Nature unrival'd here maintain'd her Part,
Too sweetly wild for Chance, too greatly bold for Art.

XCVIII.

From teeming Earth the Vapour now exhal'd;
That courts the Presence of the orient Sun;
But thro' the Mist the ruddy Orb prevail'd,
All warm with Joy, his daily Course to run!
By the clear River stretch'd the winding Vale,
Where, as it often chanc'd, the Princess stray'd,
A thousand Sweets embalm'd the spicy Gale,
A thousand Flow'rs luxuriant bless'd the Mead,
Which, as her Virgins sport, they pull with Care
The Morning-Wreath to form, for Canace to wear.

XCIX.

There safe the Elk, the Antilope, and Deer
The harmless Shelter of the Place enjoy'd;

254

Crop'd the sweet Herb, or drank the Fountain clear;
No Fears alarm'd them; for no Foes annoy'd:
With vocal Musick now the Forests ring,
As artless Love inspires the melting Voice:
And Nature kindling at the Smile of Spring,
Teaches her happy Children to rejoice!
Fair Canace the soft Sensation feels,
And with the whisp'ring Breeze the virtuous Pleasure steals!

C.

As from the native Blind's unconscious Eyes,
The skilful Leech th' assailing Speck withdraws;
Sudden he sees a World unknown arise,
Where Objects multiply'd Confusion cause:
With such Emotion did the Princess' Ear
Receive the Language of the Woods around:
So, by her mystic Ring instructed, hear,
That not devoid of Reason was the Sound:
While with responsive Note the Nations sing,
“Hail to the Rose of May! Hail, lovely Queen of Spring!

255

CI.

But stop we here, e're too prolix we be;
The wanton Error, That of many a Muse,
Who lur'd by ev'ry Flow'r, and ev'ry Tree,
Too far the too inviting Path pursues.
Lest the tir'd Ear reject the tedious Strain,
Judgment should still the Flights of Fancy guide.
The Point propos'd should Reason firm retain,
That Fame may o'er the lasting Work preside.
Mind we, th' unerring Law of sacred Song,
That the delightful Tale should never be too long.

CII.

But as she nearer to the Forest drew,
A diff'rent Object claim'd her gentle Care
Of Foliage stript, alone, an Alder grew,
Whose naked Branches trembled to the Air!
From hence shrill Cries a beauteous Falcon sent,
Which well her Bitterness of Woe express'd;
While ever as she shriek'd, with cruel Bent,
She fix'd her Beak impressive in her Breast;

256

So that the Tide of Life, fast flowing round,
Distain'd the wither'd Bark, and trinkled to the Ground.

CIII.

Fair seem'd her Form, and fair her Aspect seem'd,
As ever Eye beheld, or Falcon wore;
Like the pure Snow, her Silver Plumage beam'd,
With mingling ruddy Streaks empurpled o'er!
Such was her Look, that not the Tyger fell,
Who lawless roams the Desart wild for Prey;
Nor Eagle fierce, that from her airy Cell,
Wings with destructive Aim her rapid Way;
But would have soften'd been to hear her Lay,
And by Compassion taught, have felt their Rage decay.

CIV.

Mov'd with the plaintive Anguish of her Tongue,
Her mournful Gesture, and her bleeding Wound;
The neighb'ring Birds from ev'ry Thicket throng,
And silent hear, and droop the Wing around!
Soon the mild Princess, thro' her tender Soul,
Felt the prevailing Force of Pity glide;

572

The Voice of Sorrow all her Senses stole,
As from the Tree, distinct the Falcon cry'd;
“O gentle Stranger, some Compassion show!
“O heavenly Beauty deign to ease my matchless Woe.

CV.

Quick to the Tree, the gentle Princess flew
Where still her sad Laments the Mourner made;
And in the Falcon's Tongue (which then she knew)
With Accent mild, and tender Look she said:
“Much suffering Bird! the fairest of thy Kind!
“Whate'er Misfortunes thus thy Anguish move;
“In me, the Daughter of a Monarch, find
“A Friend, with me a sure Protection prove:
“My Hands thy Wounds shall heal with precious Balm,
“And on my Breast reclin'd, thy Woes shall know a Calm.

CVI.

“But why thy Breast this boundless Sorrow fills,
“Which sighing Eccho wafts the Woods around?
“Why from thy Breast the crimson Drop distills
“That mars the Verdure of the blasted Ground?

258

“If Death has robb'd thee of thy slaughter'd Mate,
“For whom despairing, comfortless you show;
“Or if some envious Shaft with cruel Fate
“Has pierc'd thy Bosom with a deadly Blow?
“Oh quick the Cause reveal!—for never yet,
“On one of feather'd Kind, so was my Fancy set!

CVII.

Scarce had she spoke,—when from the lifeless Spray,
Where perch'd the Falcon did her Griefs repeat
The fluttering Mourner fell, and panting lay,
As pleas'd to die beneath the Princess' Feet!
Soon from the Earth the Bird her Pity rais'd,
And in her Lap with fond Indulgence plac'd;
Then call'd her Maids, who on the Action gaz'd,
And bound its Wounds and tenderly embrac'd:
Till by her Hands reviv'd the Falcon woke,
Grateful beheld the Fair and faintly thus bespoke.

CVIII.

“O blest Compassion! Heav'n descended Child!
“Whose Power is best perceiv'd in noblest Hearts

259

“Who dress'd in Smiles of Patience, meekly mild,
“To Want, Relief; to Mis'ry, Ease imparts;
“By thee inspir'd,—this heavenly Maid has felt
“A Pain for Sorrows to herself unknown;
“With kind Humility has Comfort dealt,
“To me, amidst the Wilds of Nature thrown!
“For which may Guardian Heav'n her Virtues shield
“From all the poison'd Arts, that drove me to the Field.

CIX.

“Yet tho' Reflection should convey a Dart
“With every Word to wing my fleeting Life;
“The Story of my Woe shall I impart
“At thy Command, and bear the cruel Strife:
“So may the sad Relation be believ'd,
“Which from Experience deeply wounded flows,
“That thy superior Virtue undeceiv'd,
“May scorn the Semblance faithless Manhood shows,
“Their Vows, their Sighs, and all the flatt'ring Arts
“By which (they skill'd) betray deluded Virgin-Hearts!

260

CX.

She ceas'd,—as if oppress'd,—nor longer spoke
With sad Remembrance inward so she pain'd;
She droop'd her Head,—a Flood of Anguish broke
And scarce her Form the Signs of Life retain'd;
While Canace bestow'd a tender Tear,
To see the wretched Falcon's halpless State;
With Kisses oft she sought her Griefs to cheer,
Caress'd her gently, and bewail'd her Fate!
Till Kindness does reviving Warmth infuse,
And thus the pensive Bird the Song of Woe renews.

CXI.

“Where rapid Niester rolls his noisy Wave,
“High in a Marble Cliff that brow'd the Flood;
“My peaceful Birth indulgent Nature gave,
“Securely there our Nest paternal stood:
“I liv'd my honour'd Parents dear delight,
“Cherish'd with Sylvan Fruits and choicest Grain;
“My Youth they form'd, and taught my early Flight.
“To skim the Wood, or circle o'er the Plain!

261

“Of all the numerous Natives of the Sky,
“None, (so bethought me) seem'd so blest and glad as I.

CXII.

“By Fortune favour'd, and by Nature free,
“Artless I flew where Health and Pleasure call'd;
“No Fears alarm'd, no Dangers threatned me;
“No Sickness griev'd, nor Servitude inthrall'd:
“Form'd to Sincerity my honest Thought
“No Guile imagin'd, as no Guile it knew;
“Too fond Belief!—which future Mischiefs wrought,
“And into Woe my heedless Footsteps drew:
“For such the Fate of the most candid Mind,
“True Honour needs no Vows,—no Vows can Falshood bind.

CXIII.

“Not distant far, by the descending Stream,
“A Tercelet held his wood-enshelter'd Nest;
“Much of his Manners spoke propitious Fame,
“As ev'ry Virtue had adorn'd his Breast;
“Thus prepossess'd,—delighted I beheld
“So full of gentle Courtesy he seem'd,

262

“All former Observation stood excell'd,
“I saw,—admir'd;—reflected,—and esteem'd:
“Nor judg'd such Carriage with destructive Show,
“Conceal'd a darksome Well of Treason hid below!

CXIV.

“As where gay Flowers in wild Profusion rise,
“Th' embosom'd Serpent glides his wiley Head!
“Replete with Malice till the Time he spies,
“When unperceiv'd he may his Venom shed:
“So with fair Semblance of unfelt Delight,
“This sly Deceiver constant Duty paid;
“Early or late he faithful watch'd my Flight,
“With Zeal conducted, and with Care obey'd:
“So us'd each Artifice my Heart to move
“This Monster of his Kind!—this Hypocrite in Love.

CXV.

“Yet, while his Tenderness my Mind surveys,
“I wonder not that foolish, I believ'd!
“Yet, when I think on his engaging Ways,
“I scarce know how to call my self deceiv'd!

263

“So upright to Appearance his Intent,
“So far his Conduct seem'd from selfish View,
“Dishonour might have wonder'd what it meant,
“And blush'd to wear a Livery so true!
“So fair to Light the stately Tomb remains,
“That in its loathsome Vault the Spoils of Death contains.

CXVI.

“Thus for successive Years with humble Air,
“This Wretch disloyal holy Love profan'd;
“With constant Vows still won my open Ear,
“'Till by Degrees my yielding Mind he gain'd:
“To hear his plaintive Tale beneath the Shade,
“Pleas'd have I oft consum'd the Summer's Day!
“Still the fond Tale a fresh Impression made
“And more enamour'd still I went away!
“With female Pride prevailing Pity strove,
“And what was Friendship first, now soften'd into Love.

CXVII.

“Yet in my Weakness,—Virtue still I ey'd!
“Nor lost its native Purity my Heart!

264

“Love, tho' he fetter'd,—led me not aside,
“And Virgin Chastity maintain'd its Part;
“Tho' Choice inthron'd him in my conscious Breast.
“The best,—the dearest of his noble Kind,
“Lord of my Wishes, tho' he reign'd confest
“His Empire still was bounded by the Mind
“In me, unblemish'd Honour lent the Fire
“The mutual Flame to feed,—I thought should ne'er expire.

CXVIII.

“Thus won by seeming Love! and vain Desert,
“My Mind deluded grasp'd its fatal Chain!
“I fear'd no Treachery, void of ev'ry Art,
“Lov'd as I was, I joy'd to love again!
So, in the Sight of Heav'n and conscious Day,
“We mutual, one unalter'd Passion swore;
“Ne'er did till then the Traitor seem so gay,
“Ne'er felt my harmless Breast such Joy before:
“As when I yielded all my Heart as free,
“As simple I believ'd, he his had given to me!

265

CXIX.

“But well this Truth prophetic Love has read,
“A Thief and faithful Lover think not one.”
“For soon as he beheld his Conquest made,
“Increasing Show of Transport he put on;
“Before my Feet in seeming Trance he lay,
“And tho' deep Silence all his Speech suppress'd,
“With false Delight I saw his Pinions play,
“And his fond Eye his Happiness confess'd.
“Convinc'd, to Demonstration, I remain'd,
“No mortal Lover yet so well the Passion feign'd!

CXX.

“Not Paris, who th' Idalian Nymph betray'd;
“Not Troilus, who inconstant Cresside won;
“Not Jason, who deceiv'd the Colchian Maid;
“Nor Lamech; first who chose two Wives for one;
“Not Adam, who for one his Eden lost,
“With all the Sons of his degen'rate Race,
“Could equal Art with this Impostor boast,
“Or act the Counterfeit with such a Grace.

266

“Such was his specious Shadowing of Disguise,
“No Woman had escap'd, had she been e'er so wise!

CXXI.

“No wonder then, if I, all unadvis'd,
“Whom no Experience caution'd to beware;
“If unsuspecting, I was soon surpriz'd,
“And heedless caught in the delusive Snare:
“If simple, charm'd with Love's attractive Show,
“Its new-born Pleasure, and deceitful Sweet,
“My Heart unguarded, open'd to the Foe,
“And cherish'd in itself the fatal Heat;
“Our Thoughts, our Pains, our Wishes seem'd the same;
“New Love appear'd to raise a more enduring Flame!

CXXII.

“Thus twice the Sun renew'd the smiling Year,
“And saw our mutual soft Endearments crown'd.
“His Sight, my Bliss! his Safety, all my Fear!
“In him was ev'ry other Object drown'd!
“Had I a Sigh he seem'd not to divide?
“Had he a Pain, I made not all my own?

267

“I held him more than all the World beside;
“I liv'd—I wish'd to live for him alone!
“Dearer he was to me in ev'ry Part,
“Than was the vital Stream that circled round my Heart!

CXXIII.

“Near the lone Ruins of a wasted Tow'r,
“Encompass'd by the River's murm'ring Fall,
“Oft were we wont to pass the Ev'ning-Hour,
“Safe in the Shelter of the Ivy'd Wall;
“There was our Meeting fix'd, that hapless Day,
“Happy, whose Light these Eyes had never seen,
“Slow pass'd to me the tedious Time away,
“Till the deep Shadows darken'd half the Green;
“Impatient, I observ'd the Night's Increase,
“And e're th' appointed Time I wing'd me to the Place.

CXXIV.

“There I the Traytor found,—who pensive stood,
“Perch'd on a Turret, as to mark my Flight;
“Sad seem'd his Aspect!—drooping was his Mood;
“Ne'er had I seen him in such heavy Plight.

268

“Trembling, I ask'd the Cause; but ask'd in vain,
“Foreboding; Silencegave me nought to know.
“I press him to reply, Whence rose his Pain?
“His Eyes responsive only told his Woe:
“'Till with a forc'd Constraint, and piercing Look;
“His feeble Voice he rais'd; and thus prepar'd, he spoke.

CXXV.

“Hard is the Lot, the bolder Male attends,
“Where Dangers threat, by Honor forc'd to go,
“While Nature kind your softer Sex defends,
“And Guardian-Beauty shields from ev'ry Blow.
“Love, weeping Love, can tell with what Regret
“Reluctant I obey the Tyrant-Guide;
“How much I wail the Rigour of my Fate,
“That tears me, gentle Charmer! from thy Side.
“Judge thou the Strife, and with impartial Aim,
“Save (if thou canst) my Peace, or vindicate my Fame.

CXXVI.

He ceas'd—unusual Horror seiz'd my Breast,
A mix'd Confusion, never felt before!

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Scarce my dim Eye the rising Grief repress'd,
I lov'd his Safety,—but his Honor more!
When Death prevailing rends the tortur'd Heart,
And hovers o'er the Sight his dreadful Shade,
Such at that Instant was my speechless Smart!
Such was the Anguish on my Senses prey'd!
Firm, as I could, I yet witheld a Cry,
And thoughtful thus I made, determin'd, my Reply.

CXXVII.

“Tho' Love can ill this sudden Shock sustain,
“And never Love as yet exceeded mine!
“Yet since thy Glory calls thee from the Plain,
“Content I sacrifice my Will to thine!
“Complaints are vain!—where Fame invites thee, go,
“Yet for my Sake, amidst the Warrior-Strife,
“Heav'n from thy Head avert each pointed Blow,
“And with thy Safety bring me more than Life!
“For this, each Morning-Orison shall rise;
“For this, each Ev'ning-Hymn invoke the Guardian Skies.

270

CXXVIII.

“Yet tho' harsh Fate for Years prolong'd thy Stay,
“Love constant shall supply my faithful Flame.
“Then, as if lost but the preceding Day,
“Still wilt thou find my Tenderness the same.
“When the pure Soul a chaste Affection binds,
“Nor Time, nor Death the Union can impair!
“Heav'n pleas'd surveys this Sympathy of Minds,
“That, like itself, enkindles brightly fair!
“Fly then to Conquest—Fortune be thy Guide!
“Of this assur'd, no Pow'r our Faith shall e'er divide.

CXXIX.

“What need I, Princess fair! describe his Shows,
“His varied Action, and his fond Discourse?
“His Vows repeated, and dissembled Woes?
“Who cou'd speak better? Who cou'd practise worse?
“Such was his Agony—so deep his Cries;
“Such all the Shapes of his experienc'd Art!
“That more instructed Thought, and wiser Eyes,
“Perhaps had seen, he over-did his Part.

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“But Innocence my weaker Judgment bound,
“None Treason well can know, but who has Treason found!

CXXX.

“Doleful we parted on the Gloom of Night,
“With weary Wing my wind-rock'd Nest I sought;
“He vig'rous, southward urg'd his rapid Flight,
“With new Direction, and inconstant Thought!
“Well had he learn'd this Maxim of Mankind,
“That no Restraint the Appetite cou'd cool;
“That the soft Passion languishes confin'd;
“But when directed, free by Beauty's Rule,
“(As Fancy leads) exerts a nobler Aim;
“With Novelty supplies the still reviving Flame!

CXXXI.

“Like as the foolish Bird, who wild in-cag'd,
“(Tho' kind you tend him, and tho' fond you feed)
“Yet bears his Loss of Liberty enrag'd,
“Nor all your gentle Usage deigns to heed:
“Were you to line his Prison-Bars with Silk,
“Disdainful shall he tear the Trophies up;

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“Were you to mix his Mess of honey'd Milk,
“He loaths the Dainties, and he spurns the Cup.
“But give him Leave,—the Libertine shall rove,
“To feed on vilest Worms, a Vagrant in the Grove.

CXXXII.

“Twas so this Tercelet, whom I once esteem'd,
“A Miracle of Constancy and Truth,
“(Such as in Virtue counterfeit he seem'd
“With all the Splendor of unblemish'd Youth!)
“Fir'd by no Prospect of superior Fame,
“But led by vain Desire of wanton Change,
“He shun'd my Sight, forgot his ancient Flame,
“In search of lawless Pleasure, wild to range.
“A wretched Kyte had struck his fickle Eye;
“A Kyte! the coarsest Bird that wings the midway Sky!

CXXXIII.

“So spoke Report—nor I the Tale believ'd,
“So much my Heart was wedded to its Foe;
“Till by my own Enquiry undeceiv'd,
“My Error late I found, I found it so!

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“Then first I knew, not Love the Passion bred,
“Whose Semblance fair this Hypocrite express'd;
“But Phantasy the idle Vapour fed.
“A Meteor vain of Gallantry at best.
“A real Tenderness can ne'er decline;
“Of genuine Virtue still is Constancy the Sign.

CXXXIV.

“Thus now this Kyte my Wanderer enjoys,
“Forgetful of his violated Vows;
“More artful she, perhaps, her Pow'r employs,
“To seize the kind Occasions Love allows!
“To try if real be the Wooer's Pain,
“By Wiles that ev'n his Artifice may blind;
“To practise Coyness, and to act Disdain,
“Arts never suited to my plainer Mind;
“Whose Innocence alone supports its Grief,
“Till Heav'n shall end my Woe, or timely send Relief!

CXXXV.

More had she spoke,—but as she thus bewail'd,
Prevailing Anguish gain'd the dubious Sway;

274

Short grew her Breath! her little Spirits fail'd,
And in the Princess' Lap she dy'd away!
Mov'd, at the Sight, the Nymphs with busy Care,
To give the Mourner and their Mistress Ease;
Who safe conveys her from the dang'rous Air,
And homeward with a gentle Pace conveys;
Where in her own Apartment safely plac'd,
The wounded Bird she leaves, its just Repose to taste!

CXXXVI.

Next Canace humane her Thought bestows,
From ev'ry potent Herb and Root to chuse
Ingredients bland, the Med'cine to compose,
And in the Sores the Balm of Health infuse:
Recov'ring soon, beneath her watchful Eye
The gentle Bird a fairer Face assumes,
Her Wounds reclose—she shows external Joy,
And with new Life her varied Plumage blooms.
Grateful, her fair Deliv'rer is confess'd,
She sips her rosy Lip, and flutters round her Breast!

275

CXXXVII.

Yet but imperfect Pleasure she reveal'd,
A Cloud of Anguish darken'd still her Mien;
In vain with fond Endeavour she conceal'd
The melancholy Grief that reign'd within:
With friendly Zeal the gen'rous Princess strove
To cure this deeper Wound which Sorrow made,
To cool the Fever of consuming Love,
Which slowly-wasting on her Quiet prey'd:
And sought, by Reason calm, and mild Discourse,
To mitigate the deep Disease's rooted Force.

CXXXVIII.

Close by her fair Alcove's projected Side,
She for the fav'rite Bird, a Mew prepares;
Adorn'd with all the Elegance of Pride;
Of Gold the Wires, of Gold the fretted Bars:
In Gold the crystal Ewer she encas'd,
A figur'd Vase of Gold contain'd her Food;
Her Cage around with golden Foliage grac'd,
Of Gold the polish'd Perch on which she stood;

276

Hung o'er a Canopy of Velvet-Blue,
The Emblem sweet of Hope, and Perseverance true!

CXXXIX.

Full in a rich Entablature oppos'd,
Depicted was there many a faithless Fowl;
There in their proper Colours stood disclos'd
The fickle Tercelet, and the treach'rous Owl.
The Caitiff Cuckoo flew attended there,
Whom all the feather'd Tribes avoid with Scorn;
Nor fail'd the tell-tale Daw, or prattling Stare
The Enigmatick Portrait to adorn:
High in the Centre was the Jeay espy'd,
Who ap'd their sev'ral Airs—well practis'd to deride.

CXL.

Here shall we leave, how by Camballo's Care,
Return'd the Falcon with repentant Wing;
Nor yet the Mirror's wond'rous Pow'rs declare;
Nor the Sword's Virtues, to restore the King;
Nor of Cambuscan's Conquests yet discourse;
Whence gain'd Algarsife, Thedora to wife,

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Great Peril 'scaping, thro' the Brazen Horse:
These we defer—to tell Camballo's Strife,
And how three mighty Brethren he surpass'd;
Then where we first began, shall we conclude at last.

CXLI.

Wide spred the Fame of Canace the Fair,
Held of her Sex most learned in her Days;
Her Ring disclosing ev'ry Science rare,
And ev'ry secret Work of Nature's Ways.
The Voice of Beasts and Birds, or wild, or tame,
The Pow'r of Herbs and Plants she fully knew;
But What augmented more her other Fame,
(Tho' dark Events lay open to her View,)
She modest was, in all her Deeds and Words;
And wondrous chaste of Life, tho' lov'd of Knights and Lords.

278

CXLII.

Her many a Lord, and many a Knight Her lov'd;
But She to None of Them her Liking lent;
Nor ever was with fond Affection mov'd;
No single Look once out of Order went;
So well her Thoughts all lawless Passions rul'd,
For Love of Honor, or for Dread of Blame;
And, or extinguish'd quite, or duly cool'd,
She smother'd, or She never felt the Flame;
Her Eyes like wary Centinels well stay'd,
Still watch'd on ev'ry Side, of secret Foes afraid.

CXLIII.

So much the rather, as She shun'd to love,
So much the rather, She to love was sought;
What fail'd not much unquiet Strife to move,
And 'midst her Suitors frequent Contests wrought.
That oft for Her in bloody Arms They fight,
Encountring Danger for the thankless Maid;
Whom, when Camballo (wise and valiant Knight!)
Perceiv'd, He nor could temper, nor dissuade;

279

From Ills, He could not help, He cast to raise,
And turn both Him and Her to Honor and to Praise.

CXLIV.

One Day, that met this Troop of warlike Merit,
Amongst Them All He made this fix'd Decree;
(All Men of Passion, and all Men of Spirit!
The harder so to make Them well agree!)
“Be this the Hour, to fix my Sister's Choice,
“Be, of the Croud, that to her Bed pretend,
“Three chose, the Stoutest call'd by common Voice,
“The Stoutest of the Three the Strife shall end.
“Then Each with Me shall combat for her Sake;
“The Victor of Them All our Canace shall take.

CXLV.

Bold was the Challenge, as Himself was bold,
With Courage full of Daring and Emprize,
Approv'd in Acts too num'rous to be told,
Whence lasting Honors to his Mem'ry rise.
But what secur'd Him of the wish'd Event,
Whence, tho' full brave, some Confidence might spring,

280

Was the sure Aid his Royal Sister lent,
The Influence of her rarely-gifted Ring;
That 'mongst the many Virtues (which We read)
Had Pow'r to staunch all Wounds that mortaly did bleed.

CXLVI.

So was that Ring's great Virtue known to All;
That Dread of This, and his redoubted Might,
Did all that youthly Rout so much appall,
That None of Them durst undertake the Fight.
More wise They ween'd to make of Love a Play,
Than Life to hazard for fair Lady's Grace;
While yet uncertain (should They gain the Day)
They in her Sight might hope the foremost Place.
Tho' for her Sake, They all that Peril ran,
Who could be sure of Her, or think Himself the Man?

CXLVII.

Among the Lovers, were three Brethren bold—
Three bolder Brethren never yet were born!
Born of one Mother, in one happy Mold!
Born at one Burthen, in one happy Morn!

281

Thrice happy Morn, thrice happy Mother, hail!
That brought Three such, Three such not to be found;
Three Males united as one single Male!
The First was Priamondo, far renown'd;
Nor less the Second, Diamondo nam'd;
With Triamondo last, yet, equally as fam'd.

CXLVIII.

Stout Priamondo, not so strong to strike!
Strong Diamondo, not so stout a Knight!
But Priamondo, stout and strong alike!
On Horse wou'd Triamondo chuse to fight;
Felt Priamondo best on Foot his Force,
And so delighted to maintain his Ground;
To Diamondo, equal Foot or Horse.
With Curtax deep wou'd Diamondo wound;
And Triamondo handled Spear and Shield;
But Curtax, Shield and Spear would Priamondo wield.

CXLIX.

These Brothers lov'd Each Other wond'rous well,
And by such firm Affection were ally'd,

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As if one Soul might in three Bosoms dwell,
And in three equal Parts her Pow'rs divide.
Like three fair Arms, uniting as They spread,
That, from one Root, their vital Sap derive,
They crown their Mother with one tow'ring Head;
And, like the Root that bids Them bloom and thrive,
Such was their Mother! At one happy Birth,
Three Sons producing, Three, the noblest Sons of Earth!

CL.

Of secret Things their Mother had the Skill,
Knew Nature's Laws; A Nymph of Fairy Kind!
Hence by her Art cou'd model to her Will,
And to her Use each living Creature bind.
There-to, She was right Fair to Mortal Eye,
List She, to Mortal Eye, to show how Fair!
Tempting to touch, and charming to descry;
Her Stature, goodly; delicate, her Air.
But She, as wont the Nymphs of Sylvan Race,
In Forests spent her Days, and lov'd in Wilds to chase.

283

CLI.

There, on a Day, a noble youthly Knight,
Adventures seeking in the savage Wood,
By great good Fortune got of Her the Sight,
As She sat careless by a Crystal Flood.
And on Her, unawares, He lay'd his Hand,
Combing her Locks, her Head to new-array;
In vain She strove his Ardor to withstand,
The too intemp'rate Youth wou'd have his Way.
Oppressing Her by Force (as Bards have told)
Three lovely Sons He got, that prov'd three Champions bold!

CLII.

These, long She foster'd in the lonely Wood,
Till to the Ripeness of Man's State They grew,
Then showing forth Signs of their Father's Blood;
Arms first They love, Adventures then pursue.
Adventures, where They knew to seek, They sought,
Which, for their Safety, pain'd their Mother's Mind;
For tho' their Pow'rs They prov'd, and Wonders wrought,
Yet He that seeks Mischance, Mischance may find.

284

For He that Danger rather courts than shuns,
The greater is his Heart, the greater Hazard runs.

CLIII.

For This, She wish'd, the Number of their Days
To know, and to inlarge with long Extent;
By wond'rous Skill, thro' subterraneous Ways,
Down to the Mansion of the Fates she went.
Down to the Bottom of the deep Abyss,
Far under Ground She went to Realms of Night,
Where Demogorgon sits in gloomy Bliss,
Far from the Eye of Heav'n, or View of Light,
And rules the hideous Chaos; There she hies,
The Fates to try; where hid, their dreadful Dwelling lies.

CLIV.

She found Them there, all seated in a Round,
Full in the Midst the direful Distaff stands;
Where drawing out the Lines of Life, She found
The Fatal Sisters, with unweary'd Hands.
Sad Clotho held the Rock; the vital Twine
With Pain by griesly Lachesis was spun;

285

But ah! how soon was all their fair Design,
How soon! by cruel Atropos undone!
With Steel accurst She cut the Twist in twain:
Most wretched Man, whose Days depend on Threads so vain!

CLV.

Ent'ring She bow'd, and bending sate to Rest;
Their Labor, then, survey'd with anxious Grace:
And comprehending soon, the Fates address'd,
Trembling in Heart, and looking pale in Face.
To tell her Cause of Coming She began—
To Whom, fierce Atropos; “Intruder bold!
“That search the Secrets of the Life of Man!
“That dare, from Mortal what is hid, behold!
“Well worthy Thou to be of Jove accurst,
“And shorten'd of their Twine, thy Sons in Secret nurst.”

CLVI.

Where-at She, sore afraid, the Fates besought
Pardon to grant, and Rigor to abate,
And pray'd to see how strong their Twine was wrought,
And know the utmost Measure of their Date.

286

This Clotho grants; so Destiny ordain'd!
And gives Her to inspect the fated Line;
The Mother to the Soul was inly pain'd,
Nor cou'd forbear to murmur and repine;
Spun were their Threads, She thought, as Spiders spin,
As thin as Webs They seem'd, and yet as short as thin.

CLVII.

For longer Measure, and for stronger Thread,
She strait began the Sisters to ingage;
That so their Lives might be prolong'd (She said)
But Lachesis as soon began to rage.
“Deem You alike, fond Dame (the Goddess cry'd,)
“Alike! of Human Things, and Things Divine?
“That alter'd they may be? (oh mortal Pride!)
“And chang'd, at Pleasure, for those Sons of Thine?
“Not so; for, what the Destinies decree,
Not all the Gods can force, not Jove himself can free.

CLVIII.

‘If then the Term of Life, (the Nymph rejoin'd)
‘Can neither be, or lessen'd, or enlarg'd;

287

Grant This (this Grant will ease a Mother's Mind)
‘With Either's Soul be Either's Body charg'd.
‘So when You doom the Eldest of the Three,
‘(Whose Life, I see, is shortest) pass his Soul;
‘Transfer it to the Second in Degree:
‘And let the Third and Last possess the Whole.
‘Thus Each, in Other, shall his Life prolong,
‘In Life of Other, Each shall thus be trebly strong.

CLIX.

The careful Sisters granted her Request;
With full-contented Mind the Nymph departs.
Return'd, She meets Her Sons in Armor drest,
Not to her Wish, nor knew They of her Arts.
From Them conceal'd She what the Fates design'd,
And how their Lives were lengthen'd, fear'd to tell;
Yet oft as fair Occasion She cou'd find,
She bids Son trust to Son, whate'er befell.
“Let Brother on his Brother's Safety wait,
“Give Love for Love, my Boys, whate'er your future Fate.

288

CLX.

And firm in Friendship liv'd They all their Days,
Rash Discord never ent'ring either Mind!
Which added much to all their other Praise,
And now in Love of Canace They join'd.
As by Affection natural 'twas agreed,
Each cou'd not but approve what Each approv'd;
And tho' same Likings sure Aversions breed;
Here lov'd They more, because alike They lov'd.
Hence the dire Conflict grew including All,
(As oft) great Matter growing from Beginning small.

CLXI.

O! why do wretched Men so much desire
To draw their Days to the remotest Date?
Why do not rather wish Them to expire,
Knowing the certain Mis'ry of their State?
Tost like the Vessel on the surging Wave,
What Ills await Them, threat'ning to devour!
One Danger, from the Cradle to the Grave,
Attends; for Death attends Them ev'ry Hour!

289

And Who most happy seems, and least complains,
Is yet, as near his End, as He that suffers Pains!

CLXII.

For This, I hold the Nymph more fond, than sage,
Her Children's Life thus seeking to prolong;
To lengthen Mis'ry, She wou'd lengthen Age:
But She that means the Right, can act no Wrong.
And happy, Each in Other, breath'd the Three,
Of Other Each, approving, and approv'd;
So courteous Each with Other to agree,
It made Them more esteem'd of Friends They lov'd;
And Each with Other so for Valor priz'd,
It made Them dreaded more of Foes whom They despis'd.

CLXIII.

These Three that hardy Challenge took in Hand,
With great Camballo to maintain the Fight;
The Day was set, that All might understand,
And Pledges pawn'd, as claim'd the Martial Rite.
That Day (and ne'er was Day, of equal Dread,
Known, or to Those, before, or Those, since Born!)

290

Soon as the Face of Heav'n was streak'd with Red,
These warlike Champions hail the rising Morn;
And, glorious as the Sun, in Armor shine,
Assembling in the Field, the Challenge to define.

CLXIV.

The Field with Lists was all around inclos'd,
To bar the Press of People far away;
And at one Side six Judges were dispos'd,
To view and deem the Deeds of Arms that Day.
Fresh in Array, and beautiful to Sight,
Fair Canace adorn'd a stately Stage,
Rais'd opposite; the Fortune of the Fight
Engag'd to see: Her Beauty was the Gage!
There to be seen, as his most worthy Wife
Who purchas'd her full fair, at Venture of his Life.

CLXV.

Camballo enter'd first the Listed Space,
With stately Step, that scorn'd the Pow'r of Chance;
As sure of Conquest, fearless was his Face:
As fearless, tho' less sure, the Three advance.

291

Their 'Scutcheons, richly gilt; and, streaming high,
Their Banners, that on Day reflected Day.
Thrice marching round the List, They charm'd the Eye,
Such was their manly Port, and brave Array.
Thrice bow'd They lowly to the noble Maid,
The while the Trumpets shrill, and loud the Clarions play'd.

CLXVI.

Advanc'd the Challenger with hardy Stride,
All arm'd to Point, his Challenge to maintain;
Him Priamondo met with equal Pride,
To Point all arm'd, to take it in Disdain.
A Trumpet blew. Strait closing, Hand to Hand,
With furious Force and fell Intent They met,
Careless of Peril in the furious Stand;
Life they expos'd, as Life had been a Debt:
A Debt so deeply 'gag'd, that They esteem'd
Twas Folly now to spare, what cou'd not be redeem'd.

CLXVII.

Well practis'd Priamondo was in Fight,
And great his Skill in Use of Spear and Shield.

292

Nor less approv'd Camballo's Martial Might,
Nor less his Skill or Shield or Spear to wield.
'Twas hard to guess which was the hardier Foe;
For equal ev'ry Blow on either Side,
And either Side sent Death at ev'ry Blow.
It seem'd, that Chance, not Merit, must decide.
Each eyes the Other with such watchful Care,
That short falls ev'ry Blow, or vainly glides in Air.

CLXVIII.

Yet One of Many with unlucky Glance,
(Of Many One by Priamondo sent)
Took Place, directed less by Aim than Chance,
And passing thro' Camballo's Shoulder went.
It went; his Shield it forc'd him to forego.
Much was He griev'd, and rag'd with high Disdain;
Yet from the Wound no Blood He felt to flow,
But wond'rous Pain; his Courage rose with Pain;
That urg'd his haughty Soul to Vengance fell.
Smart daunts not mighty Hearts, but makes them more to swell.

293

CLXIX.

With That, He bade his poignant Jav'lin fly
Full at his Foe, and close beneath his Shield;
It enter'd thro' his Mail, and pierc'd his Thigh,
The Blood gush'd forth and stain'd the grassy Field.
With double Force it flew, and reach'd the Knight;
Much was the Knight incumber'd with the Wound;
To stand unable, or erect his Hight,
For, here and there, He reel'd along the Ground.
So as the sapless Oak, thro' Age declin'd,
Submits to ev'ry Blast, and bends to ev'ry Wind.

CLXX.

Soon as Camballo his Condition spy'd,
Full at the Spear He caught with all his Might,
Meaning to draw, or thrust from Side to Side,
And so at one Attempt conclude the Fight.
Deep was the Point infix'd, and hard He drew;
Hard tho' He drew, still back the Foe reclin'd:
Freed from the Weapon on the Knight He flew,
(Broke was the Staff, the Head was left behind.)

294

At which the Hero, more inrag'd than tam'd,
Re-charging him afresh, thus scornfully exclaim'd.

CLXXI.

“Here, take the Meed of thy Mischallenge, take!
“Thus long have I permitted Thee to live;
“Not for thine own, but for thy Sister's Sake:
“A Debt I might forbear, but not forgive.”
The wicked Weapon heard the wrathful Vow,
And pass'd to second his vindictive Ire,
His Beaver pierc'd, and shiver'd on his Brow,
That with the Force it forc'd him to retire,
Then broke; Half, quiv'ring in his Head-piece stood,
And Half the Owner held, and curs'd the treach'rous Wood.

CLXXII.

The sudden Shock with Rage Camballo bore;
And, where it stuck, from forth his Beaver drew
The shorten'd Spear, that pain'd Him as he tore:
He drew, and back at Priamondo threw.
The faithless Weapon found a ready Way
To pierce his Gorget where his Neck was bare;

295

Where lies the Pipe, commission'd to convey,
Fresh to the lab'ring Breast, the vital Air.
Thence Streams of purple Blood, the Last of Life,
Dismiss his weary Soul, and end the doubtful Strife.

CLXXIII.

His weary Soul, from earthly Bondage freed,
Nor fled to Heav'n, where Some say Spirits fly;
Nor vanish'd into Air, as Others plead;
Nor chang'd into a Star adorn'd the Sky;
Nor sought direct (a solitary Shade!)
In Pluto's gloomy Realm, Eternal Rest:
But thro' Traduction, (as his Mother pray'd)
Pass'd instantaneous to his Brother's Breast.
His Brother, next in Order, that surviv'd,
In Whom He liv'd anew, of former Life depriv'd.

CLXXIV.

He, when He spy'd Him breathless on the Field,
Was touch'd with Sorrow for his Brother's Fate;
Way to his Sorrow yet He scorn'd to yield,
But rather rous'd to Vengeance and to Hate.

296

Nor this the Time to wail, or to condole;—
But fierce He rushes to renew the Fight;
Thro' secret Impulse of his gen'rous Soul,
As in Reversion of his Brother's Right.
And, challenging the Virgin as his Due;
The Foe was soon addrest: the Trumpets freshly blew.

CLXXV.

With That, together Both so fiercely clos'd,
As Limb from Limb, Each, Other meant to rend;
Foot fix'd to Foot, and Hand to Hand oppos'd,
Nor Plate nor Mail the hideous Show'r defend.
So deadlily They dealt their Axes round,
Riv'd was the Plate, and shatter'd was the Mail;
Pain felt the One, the Other dy'd the Ground,
Fire flash'd from ev'ry Blow, Trail after Trail;
As fast as Light'ning after Thunder flies:
That fill'd the crouded List with Terror and Surprize.

CLXXVI.

As when two Tigers prick'd with hungry Rage,
Chance in the Chace to meet the wish'd-for Spoil,

297

On which they hope their Famine to asswage,
And gain a feastful Harvest of their Toil.
To make the just Partition Both refuse,
And Both contest the Fortune of the Day;
Hence strife-full Broil, and cruel Fight insues,
While Neither lets the Other touch the Prey;
And Either scorns with Other to partake:
So, strove these warlike Knights, for this fair Lady's Sake.

CLXXVII.

Full many a Blow, and mortally design'd,
Was interchang'd; yet short fell ev'ry Blow!
For They were all so warded or declin'd,
That Life in Each stood fearless of her Foe.
Till Diamondo, scorning long Delay
Of wav'ring Fortune, fix'd to neither Side;
Resolv'd to end the Doubt at one Essay,
And at one Aim the Battle to decide;
“Take This for Priamondo!” (fierce He spoke)
And heav'd his murd'rous Axe, and gave a vengeful Stroke.

298

CLXXVIII.

The vengeful Stroke had finish'd soon the Strife,
Sped, as was meant, so deadly was it meant!
Soon had it from the Body forc'd the Life;
But This Camballo's better Fates prevent.
He mark'd him as He rais'd and lowr'd his Hand,
And judg'd the Blow would fall with mighty Sway,
So swerv'd, as it arriv'd, and slip'd his Stand,
And sudden to it's fell Intent gave way.
Missing the Mark, to which his Eye was bound,
Nigh fell'd Him his right Arm, his right Foot plow'd the Ground.

CLXXIX.

As when a Vulture, greedy of his Prey,
By Hunger prest, and Hunger Heart can lend!
Strikes at a Heron, in th' etherial Way,
On whom his feather'd Forces downward bend;
Nought seems that can defend Her from her Foe:
Herself the Fowl defends with wary Care;
She spies Him, as He stoops, eludes the Blow,
And makes Him spend his Wings in empty Air.

299

That with his proper Weight, deceiv'd in Sight,
Nigh to the Ground He falls, and scarce recovers Flight.

CLXXX.

The fair Occasion, when Camballo spy'd,
Full at the Knight He drove with all his Pow'r;
E'er, for Assault or Ward He could provide:
And smote Him with his Axe, in luckless Hour
With dire Dexterity the Stroke was sped,
Then as recover'd, from his Stoop, the Foe;
And from his Shoulders off it bore his Head:
The headless Trunk stood heedless of the Blow!
A while it stood, as still respiring Breath,
Till feeling Life to fail, it fell; and slept in Death.

CLXXXI.

Amaz'd were the Spectators of the Field,
So long erect an headless Trunk to see;
With Arms, that void of Life, vain Weapons wield,
Unknowing of the Fates divine Decree!
For tho' one Soul from out his Body fled,
'Twas that which from his Brother He deriv'd;

300

And, but that thus dismember'd of the Head,
His Body would have liv'd, and had reviv'd.
Where, as his Soul no fitting Mansion found,
The Lifeless Corse is left to fall and spread the Ground.

CLXXXII.

Yet left not either Soul the doubtful Strife,
Nor yet retir'd to Seat of Heav'nly Rest;
But fill'd with double Grief and double Life,
Their last lov'd Mansion, Triamondo's Breast!
Inly He felt a more than Mortal Smart,
And strait He leap'd into the empty Field,
With more than common Strength, or common Heart;
And menac'd with his Spear, and shook his Shield.
Thus brave Camballo bravely He address'd,
Who fac'd the Foe, and soon the Fight was closely prest.

CLXXXIII.

Well might You wonder how that noble Knight,
Was able to sustain Wound after Wound;
And what impower'd him to renew the Fight,
And how on Foot He cou'd maintain his Ground.

301

Yet had You then Him forth advancing seen,
As fierce He seem'd, as fresh the Field to take,
As had He been new-form'd, new-soul'd had been;
The Semblance of the new-recuited Snake,
That, soon as Spring dispels the Wintry Cold,
Throws off his ragged Skin, and shines in Scales of Gold.

CLXXXIV.

'Twas all thro' Virtue of the Ring He wore,
Whence wounded not a single Drop He bled;
His weakened Strength her working Pow'rs restore,
The Stone, therein incas'd, such Influence shed.
Else how cou'd One of equal Might with Most,
With Most of equal Might, yet still but One!
Before so Many no less Mighty boast;
And go the Road to Honor He had gone?
Or think to match Three such in equal Fight?
Three such! as match'd an Host! an Host in either Knight!

CLXXXV.

Yet This in Triamondo rais'd no Dread,
Nor yet of glorious Vict'ry He despair'd;

302

But closing Him, well arm'd from Foot to Head,
What Man cou'd do, He did; cou'd dare, He dar'd.
Thick pour'd his Blows, as Hail-stones from the Sky,
On ev'ry Side He struck, hew'd, urg'd, and press'd;
All doubt or cou'd He stand, or wou'd He fly:
So fast the Foe his Iron Axe address'd,
That Sparks of Fire from ev'ry Stroke insue;
As fast, as from the Rock, the Sprays of Briny Dew.

CLXXXVI.

Much was Camballo daunted with the Blows,
So thick They fell, so forcibly were sent,
Constrain'd (to such a Hight his Fury rose)
Back to retire, and some-what to relent.
Safer, He judg'd, to ward than to withstand,
The Rage of Passion, rising in its Course;
He waits his shorter Breath, and lighter Hand,
Then fresh assails Him with superior Force:
That caus'd the Foe, abated of his Heat,
Fast, forward as He press'd, now backward to retreat.

303

CLXXXVII.

As when the Tide, from Ocean newly sped,
Flows up the Shenan with contrary Course;
O'er-rules the Stream, in his own Watry Bed,
And makes Him seem to have an adverse Sourse:
Back towards his Spring the Current re-ascends,
And Borders, lately pass'd, again surveys;
But when again the Flood its Vigor spends,
Then back his borrow'd Waters He repays.
And sends the Sea his own with double Gain,
And Tribute, with his own, as Sov'reign of the Main.

CLXXXVIII.

Various as these, the Tides of Battle flow,
With diverse Fortune doubtful to be deem'd;
Now This the Better had, now had his Foe;
Then One half vanquish'd, then the Other seem'd
Yet Victor Each Himself in Valor thought,
And held his Rival dying, if not dead;
Felt, many a Pang, Camballo, while They fought,
And Blood abundant Triamondo shed.

304

That with the Wasting of his Vital Flood,
Faintly He breath'd at Heart, on Foot He feebly stood.

CLXXXIX.

Camballo stronger still, and greater grew,
Nor felt his Blood to waste, nor Pow'rs to fail;
From Wound new made He gather'd Vigor new,
So much the Virtues of the Ring prevail.
Like as the Tree, by Blights or Years,
Tho', wither'd, to the Trunk it droops the Head,
Reviv'd, when prun'd with careful Skill, appears,
And joys again to flourish and to spread;
New Fruit producing, from the Husband's Toil,
As fresh as when it first was planted in the Soil.

CXC.

Thro' like Advantage in his Strength He rose,
And smote with wond'rous Force the adverse Knight;
There, where the Seams the jointed Hauberk close,
That down He fell, as dead to Human Sight.
Dead yet He was not! Yet He suffer'd Death!
Death sure as suffers Ought of Mortal State!

305

Felt the last Struggle of expiring Breath!
And pay'd a Life at the Demand of Fate!
For strait One Soul from out his Body flies,
From human Mis'ry freed, and seeks its native Skies.

CXCI.

Meantime, while All that spy'd Him deem'd Him Dead,
For visible to All He seem'd to die!
As rising from a Dream He rear'd his Head,
And sudden on his Foe began to fly.
At so uncouth a Sight the Foe amaz'd,
Lost Pow'r of Speech, not Utt'rance cou'd afford;
Unmov'd, as had He seen a Ghost, He gaz'd,
And slow of Action held his idle Sword.
Till struck full oft by his impetuous Arm,
To strike He was constrain'd, to save Himself from Harm.

CXCII.

Yet from that Hour more warily He fought,
In Fear the Stygian Gods to un-befriend;
As One, to save Himself, that rather sought,
Than fast persue'd Another to offend;

306

Nor Life, nor Labor chose to spend in vain.
When Triamondo found his cooler Play,
He judg'd it follow'd, or from Fear or Pain,
Ill able to support the closing Fray;
Or that the Knight cou'd ill on Foot indure,
A Sign that must to Him the Vict'ry soon assure.

CXCIII.

Joy'd to the Soul, on high He rais'd his Hand,
In Mind to give the last decisive Blow;
The Foe to end, or fear'd He to withstand,
Or dar'd He to withstand, to end the Foe.
Camballo mark'd Him, not inclin'd to yield,
And nothing slow to save his threaten'd Head;
His Sword He drew, and pass'd his op'ning Shield,
Slight was the Op'ning, Slight the Pass was sped:
He struck Him, as to strike his Hand He rear'd;
Beneath his Arm it went, and at his Back appear'd.

CXCIV.

Yet Triamondo's Axe pursued its Way,
And fell full heavy on Camballo's Crest.

307

The Hero in a swooning Absence lay;
An hideous Wound was on his Head imprest.
His Shield with Brims of Brass was plated round,
And there it found a Rest, nor farther sped;
Else had the Knight been cleav'd, and spred the Ground,
Down to the Breast dissever'd from the Head.
So Both at once fell breathless on the Field,
And Each to Other seem'd the Vict'ry there to yield.

CXCV.

The Croud conclude The Fight was at an End!
The Marshals of the Field, and Judges rose!
Wail'd Canace her Brother as her Friend!
They rend the Trophies, and the Lists They close!
Nought rested but to speak their Fun'ral Praise!
Ascertain'd now, by Death, the Doubtful Strife!
When Lo! at once their Living Forms They raise,
One, from his Ring; One, from his Treble Life;
And Both together rising (wond'rous Sight!)
Fresh, Other Each assail'd, and fierce renew'd the Fight.

308

CXCVI.

Each claiming then the Other as his Prize,
Begun, as had the Fight but then begun;
Alike, Strokes, Wounds, Shields, Weapons They despise,
And Danger rather try to find than shun.
Death fear'd They not, nor yet for Life They car'd,
Life to let out, alike, or Death let in.
For Death They valu'd not, nor Life They spar'd,
Or Who was to be won, or Who to win.
More to be kill'd desirous, than to kill;
To Both Life seem'd a Load, and Safety seem'd an Ill.

CXCVII.

While thus the Battle hung, a doubtful Scale!
Unsure to Whom the Balance wou'd decline,
Sad ev'ry Heart, and ev'ry Face grew pale
The Close of All unwilling to divine;
All suddenly a clamorous Noise They heard;
That seem'd some perilous Tumult to portend;
As Something strange at near Approach appear'd,
And caus'd the Croud the Vault of Heav'n to rend.

309

With Cries of Women, and Alarms of Boys,
Such as the troubled Theatre full oft annoyes.

CXCVII.

Each Champion heard the Clamor from afar,
But what it brought not sudden cou'd devise;
When lo! They spy'd, fair seated on a Car,
A Maid that cou'd not fail to touch their Eyes.
Fast as a Whirlwind drives, She drives along,
And lovely was the Virgin to behold!
Yet faster Way She made amidst the Throng,
For that her Car was all adorn'd with Gold,
It seem'd as for some Persian Monarch plan'd,
With various Gems inrich'd, and show'd a master Hand.

CXCIX.

Drawn was her Car (What wond'rous is to tell)
By two grim Lyons, subject to Command;
And tho' They look'd in Fierceness to excell
Their savage Kind, yet tame They bore her Hand.
Erect on Foot, high rais'd, the Damsel stood,
And more than Human seem'd to Human Sight.

310

Bright as the Dame that bore Her in the Wood,
She shone (and Either shone as Angel bright)
But, with her Beauty, Bounty might compare,
Which of the Two in Her might claim the greater Share.

CC.

The Fair was Daughter to th' enamour'd Knight,
Who once again oppress'd the Sylvan Maid;
Long had He watch'd to gain the pleasing Sight,
Till unawares He caught Her in the Shade.
In Magick Lore the Mother deeply skill'd,
Her Child in all her subtle Arts improv'd;
And now She came with kind Affection fill'd,
To aid her Brother, whom She dearly lov'd.
In Haste She came to pacify the Strife,
For Bad the Loss or Gain, where Gain or Loss is Life.

CCI.

Her, as the Croud press'd nearer to behold,
Less tractable her ireful Leaders grew;
Numbers They drove before, as Sheep to Fold,
And Numbers, roll'd in Dust, for Haste o'erthrew;

311

That in the mix'd Confusion of the Throng,
For Fear of Danger, Some to Distance fly!
For Curiosity, Some rac'd along!
Some for Themselves, and Some for Others cry!
Some laugh for Fancy, Some for Wonder shout!
And Some, that wou'd seem Wise, their Wonder turn to Doubt!

CCII.

In her Right Hand a Rod of Peace She bore,
Around, two Serpents mutually were wound;
Bound firmly by the Tail in Lovely Lore,
And Both were with one Olive Garland crown'd.
Like to the Wand that wields the Son of May,
Seals He in Sleep the Eye, or opes in Light;
Draws He from Hell the Shade, or drives away
The Soul from Earth; Day ministring or Night.
And in her other Hand She held a Vase,
With choice Nepenthe sill'd; a Juice of sov'reign Grace!

CCIII.

Nepenthe! Drink prepar'd by Heav'nly Art!
By Gods devis'd, all Sorrow to asswage!

312

To chace the Grief of Soul, and Gall of Heart,
Whence spring sore Anguish, and contentious Rage!
To Age, it gives sweet Peace and quiet Rest!
Firm Friendship and unalter'd Love, to Youth!
The Mind establishes, and chears the Breast!
Reserv'd for Such as Wisdom court and Truth!
Few by the Gods to taste it are assign'd!
But All, assign'd to taste it, Bliss Eternal find!

CCIV.

Such Men of Worth, deriv'd of Mortal Birth,
As mighty Jove advances to the Sky;
Gods for their Merit made from Sons of Earth!
Partake of This, e'er yet to Heav'n They fly.
Secure of Joys, that will for ever last,
All Mem'ry here They drown of Human Care;
All Hope, or Fear, of Future, or of Past,
Then, unremembring, to the Blest repair.
Heroes of old of This were giv'n to taste,
E'er yet among the Gods Immortal They were plac'd.

313

CCV.

Much more of Price, and of more gracious Pow'r,
This than the Fountain in Ardenna found;
Of which Renaldo drank in happy Hour,
As sings the Tuscan Poet, far renown'd.
For had That Pow'r to change the Bent of Mind,
From Love to Hate, a Change of evil Choice!
But This reverse, from Hate to Love inclin'd,
Who wou'd not to this Virtue yield his Voice?

314

Hate is of Brutes, and What the Gods detest;
But Love the Gift of Heav'n, and glads the Human Breast.

CCVI.

Now close beside the List her Leaders stand,
(And strong-inclosing Bars the List surround!)
She strikes the Bars, that open to her Hand,
Then enter'd, quits her Car, and takes the Ground.
“Friendship and Peace to All!” (The Virgin cry'd;)
“Friendship and Peace! The greatest Good in Life!”

315

First to Her Brother was the Wish apply'd,
Whom, sorely griev'd, She found in Bloody Strife;
Last, to the Foe, whose warlike Air and Grace,
Then secret, touch'd her Soul, and dy'd her conscious Face.

CCVII.

Both slightly bow'd; (for small was their Delight,
As then, to entertain the Lovely Maid)
Then turn'd Them to the Battle: At the Sight,
Between them, on the Field, Herself She laid.

316

With double Hopes disturb'd, and double Fears,
Nought that cou'd move the Reconciler spares,
With Sighs now intermixing soft'ning Tears,
And pow'rful Reasons adding now to Pray'rs.
For cordial Peace, from horrid War, She sought,
By All, They held most dear! By Her, for whom They fought!

CCVIII.

But when She found, She cou'd not so prevail,
She touch Them lightly with her pow'rful Wand;

317

Then sudden as the Hearts of Cowards fail,
Down fall their wrathful Swords, and motionless They stand;
They stand, as Men possest with Panick Fright,
Struck, with They know not What of dread Surprize;
Thus e'er their scatter'd Pow'rs They cou'd unite,
Or free their mighty Souls from mightier Ties;
Her Golden Bowl, with sweet Oblivion fraught,
She reach'd; and, glad for Thirst, Each drank an hearty Draught!

318

CCIX.

Soon as They tasted once the Juice Divine,
Wonder it was the sudden Change to see,
From deadly Stroke in kind Embrace They join,
And Hands They plight, no more to disagree;
In Amity, such Enmity to close,
And Foe, with Foe, as Friend with Friend to yield,
And Faithful Friends to rise from Mortal Foes,
This Turn of Things amaz'd the crouded Field;
The crouded Field with Joy and Wonder rise,
One loud Applause ensues, re-echoing thro' the Skies!

319

CCX.

When gentle Canace This sees and hears,
In Haste She from her lofty Seat descends;
And soon amidst the Combatants appears,
To know if so the cruel Conflict ends:
When certain found; all due Respect She pay'd,
In Manner easy, and in Speech polite;
And, for her Conduct, praising much the Maid,
At Sarra begs Her to dispose the Night;
And add this other Favor to the rest,
The Friendship to accept, that firmly She profest.

320

CCXI.

Agreed with true Sincerity of Heart;
The Trumpets sounded, and the Judges rose;
With Glee and gladsome Cheer the Croud depart:
To march together Both the Champions chose.
And Both together chose the Maids to ride;
Cambina, Prudent Umpire of the Day;
With sweet Affection taking to her Side
Fair Canace, as fresh as Rose in May.
Thence to Cambuscan's Palace They retir'd,
By All applauded Each, and Each by All admir'd.

321

CCXII.

In perfect Love there many a Day They spend;
Camballo with Cambina led his Life;
And who, but Triamondo, cou'd pretend
A rightful Claim to Canace as Wife?
I pass the joyous Feasts, the solemn Rites,
Things well to be conceiv'd, tho' not exprest;
The Days of Dalliance, and of Bliss the Nights;
Suffice, that Each in Each was fully Blest.
So join'd by Love, and so by Friendship bound,
That never since their Days, were Four so Happy found.

322

CCXIII.

It rises oft in Life (as here it rose)
That mortal Foes to faithful Friends may turn;
And so may faithful Friends to mortal Foes:
As Reasons temper, or as Passions burn.
For oft some dire Mistake misleads the Will,
As well in Hate of Foes, as Love of Friends;
Hence Enmity, that not proceeds of Ill,
But of Occasion, with th' Occasion ends;

323

And Friendship, which a faint Affection breeds
Without Regard of Good, dies like ill-grounded Seeds.

CCIV.

Meantime the Sun his due Meridian Hight
Had gain'd, when Neither lost, yet Either won;
While great Cambuscan, who declin'd the Sight,
Resign'd to Fate the Daughter, and the Son.

324

The Monarch thought, Fate order'd for the Best.
But hold—'tis Time to check the forward Steed!—
Nor shou'd our Tale too long delay the Rest;
What yet remains, in Order may succeed,
When next our Turn; Intemperance of Tongue,
Mine Host will well excuse, his Orator is young.

Cætera multa desiderantur.

What follows is continued by Mr. Ogle, from the Fourth Book of Spenser's Fairy Queen.

To save the Inquisitive the Trouble of searching after Spenser's Allusion, it was thought not unnecessary to give Him here an Opportunity of satisfying his Curiosity by subjoining as much of the Love and Hate of Renaldo for Angelica as made to the Purpose. And This rather from Harrington's Translation (which is yet very intelligible, tho' dedicated to Queen Elizabeth) than from Ariosto, who might not be so well understood by every Reader.

Ariost.Book I.

1

Of Dames, of Knights, of Arms, of Love's Delight,
Of Courtesies, of high Attempts I speake,
Then when the Moores transported all their Might
On Africke Seas the Force of France to breake:
Incited by the youthfull Heat and Spight
Of Agramant their King, that vow'd to wreake
The Death of King Trayans (lately slaine)
Upon the Roman Emperour Charlemaine.

5

Orlando, who long time had loved deare,
Angelica the Faire; and for her Sake,
About the World, in Nations far and neare,
Did high Attempts performe and undertake,
Return'd with her into the West that Yeare,
That Charles his Power against the Turks did make:
And with the Force of Germanie and France,
Neare Pyren Alpes his Standard did advance.

8

Betweene Orlando and Renaldo late,
There fell about Angelica some Brall,
And each of them began the tother Hate,
This Ladies Love had made them both so thrall.
But Charles, who much mislikes that such Debate
Between such Friends should rise, on Cause so small,
To Namus of Baveir in Keeping gave her,
And suffred neither of them both to have her.

9

But promist he would presently bestow
The Damsel faire, on him that in that Fight
The plainest Proofe should of his Prowesse show,
And danger most the Pagans with his Might;
But (ay the while) the Christians take the Blow,
Their Soldiers slaine, their Captains put to Fight,
The Duke himselfe a Prisner there was taken,
His Tent was quite abandon'd and forsaken.

10

Where when the Damsel faire a while had stay'd,
That for the Victor pointed was a Pray,
She tooke her Horse, ne farther time delay'd,
But secretly convay'd herself away;
For she foresaw, and was full sore afray'd,
That this to Charles would prove a dismal Day.
And riding through a Wood, she hapt to meet
A Knight that came against her on his Feet.

11

His Cuiras on; his Helmet not undone,
His Sword and Target ready to the same,
And through the Wood so swiftly he did runne,
As they that go half naked for a Game.
But never did a Shepheard's Daughter shunne
More speedily a Snake that on her came,
Then faire Angelica did take her Flight,
When as she once had Knowledge of the Knight.

12

This valiant Knight was Lord of Clarimount,
Duke Ammon's Sonne, as you shall understand,
Who having lost his Horse of good Account,
That by Mishap was slipt out of his Hand;
He follow'd him, in Hope againe to mount,
Untill this Ladies Sight did make him stand,
Whose Face and Shape proportion'd were so well,
They seem'd the House where Love itselfe did dwell.

13

But She that shuns Renaldo all She may,
Upon her Horse's Necke doth lay the Raine,
Through thicke and thin She gallopeth away,
Ne makes She Choise of beaten Way or Plaine,
But gives her Palfrey leave to cause the Way,
And being mov'd with Feare and with Disdaine,
Now up, now downe, She never leaves to ride,
Till She arrived by a River-side.

77

And being newly setled in Her Seate,
She saw a Man on Foote all armed runne,
Streight in her Mind She gan to chafe and fret,
Because She knew it was Duke Ammon's Sonne,
Most earnestly He sude Her Love to get,
More earnestly She seeks his Love to shunne.
Once She lov'd Him, He hated Her as much;
And now He loves, She hates, his Hap was such.

78

The Cause of this first from two Fountaines grew,
Like in the Tast, but in Effects unlike,
Plac'd in Ardenna, each in other's View,
Who tasts the one, Love's Dart his Heart doth strike;
Contrary of the other doth ensew,
Who drinke thereof their Lovers shall mislike.
Renaldo dranke of one, and Love him pained:
Shee drunke the other, and his Love disdained.

Book II.

1

O blind God, Love, why tak'st thou such Delight,
With Darts of divers Force our Hearts to wound?
By thy too much abusing of thy Might,
This Discord great in humane Hearts is found.
When I would wade the shallow Foord aright,
Thou draw'st me to the Deepe to have me dround,
From those love me, my Love thou dost recall,
And place it where I find no Love at all.

2

Thou mak'st most faire unto Renaldo seeme
Angelica, that takes him for a Foe;
And when that She of him did well esteeme,
Then He dislikt, and did refuse Her thoe.
Which makes Her now of Him the lesse to deeme.
Thus as (they say) She renders quit pro quo.
She hateth Him, and doth detest Him so,
She first will die, ere She will with him go.

22

He follow'd Her through Valley, Hill, and Plaine,
Through Woods and Thickets for his Master's sake,
Whom he permitted not to touch the Raine,
For feare lest He some other Way should take,
By which Renaldo though with mickle Paine
Twise found Her out, twise She did Him forsake:
For first Ferraw, then Sacrapant withstood,
That by twise finding Her He did no good.

Book XLII.

44

Ere long into Ardenna Woods he enters,
Soone after he Basylea quite had past:
Ardenna Woods, whence many come Repenters,
And in that Forrest have bene sore agast,
To travell through the same Renaldo venters,
When suddenly the Skie did overcast,
And there arose a blacke and hideous Storme,
And then appear'd a Monster of strange Forme.

45

She seem'd of Woman's Shape, but in her Hed
A thousand Eyes She had, that Watch did keepe;
As many Eares, with which She harkened;
Her Eyes want Lids, and therefore never sleepe;
In steed of Haire, Her Crowne Snakes overspred;
Thus marched She forth of the Darknesse deepe.
Her Tayle one Serpent bigger than the rest,
Which She with Knots had tyde about her Brest.

46

This Sight, Renaldos Mind appald so sore,
He feeles his Heart alreadie gan to fayle him,
And sith it never had done so before,
He marvels what (the good yeare) now should aile him:
Yet still his Minde misgave him more and more,
To see the Monster coming to assaile Him,
He nathlesse countersets his wonted Boldnesse,
Though quaking Hands bewraid his inward Coldnesse.

51

When lo! a Knight unto his Succour went,
All armd in shining Steele, and on his Shield
He bare a Yoke in sundry Peeces rent,
And Flames of Fire all in a yellow Field,
So weaponed he was, as if He ment
To make all that encountred Him to yeeld.
A Sword and Speare He had, and to the same
A Mace, from whence he threw continual Flame.

55

But when Renaldo was from Danger free,
And that same Knight by whom his Safetie came,
So courteously to come to Him did see,
His Speech to Him in kind Words he did frame,
And gave Him many Thanks in hye Degree,
And then besought him He might know his Name,
That th' Emperor and all his Court might know,
What Knight did so great Grace on him bestow.

56

The Knight in courteous Manner thus replide:
I would not you should take it in Displeasure,
That I my Name from you a while shall hide,
But e're the Shadow grow a Yard by Measure,
I shall you tell. Thus onward still they ride,
Renaldo being pleas'd to stay his Leasure.
So long they went together, till they found
A christal Spring, that ran along the Ground.

57

At which full oft the Herdmen, that did dwell
Near those same Woods, have in their loving Fits
Drunke Love away, with tasting of that Well,
And of those Passions purged cleane their Wits:
Now (for the Knight that rode with him could tell
That for Renaldo's Ill this Phisicke fits)
He doth advise him there to stay a space,
And make that Well their Baite and Resting-place.

58

Renaldo of the Motion well allowth,
And lighteth strait, and to the Well doth go,
Both for that Heat and Travell bred his Drowth,
And that the Monster had disturbd Him so;
Unto the christal Well He puts his Mouth,
And greedily drinks downe five Gulps or mo,
And from his Brest doth with one Draught remove,
His burning Thirst, and his more burning Love.

59

Now when that other Knight that with Him went,
Saw him lift up himselfe from that same Brooke,
And found He did his foolish Love repent,
And that He now that Humor quite forsooke,
Then to declare his Name He was content,
And looking with a grave and loftie Looke,
He said, Renaldo, know I hight Disdaine,
That came to loose Thee from Loves foolish Chaine.

60

This said, He vanisht from Renaldo quite, &c.

End of the Second Volume.