University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE, Abra's Apartment.
Enter Abra and Zaida.
Abr.
The Loss of Liberty to all Mankind
Is most afflictive; but to my gay Sex,
And sprightly Youth 'tis insupportable.
And yet this close Confinement pains me less
Than Separation from my much-lov'd Lord:
Were I with him in narrower Bounds imprison'd,
Imprisonment it self would please; but since
His charming Conversation is deny'd me;
I, like the melancholy Nightingale,
Shut in a Cage, and widow'd from her Lover,
Should languish, droop, and pine my self to Death;
If thou, my Zaida, faithful to my Suff'rings
Wert not admitted to me, to partake
My Miseries, and mingle Sorrow with me.

Zaid.
Believe me, Madam, 'tis with great Concern
I view your Tears; I cannot see you thus:
Let me intreat you, dry your beauteous Eyes;
Dispel those Clouds, and wear a chearful Air,
Or I must call Marama to divert you.

Abr.
Why wou'dst thou vex me more with the Remembrance
Of that Eternal Talker? She divert me?
No; tho' I smooth'd my Looks, while she was by,
And smiling seem'd to listen to her Tattle,
So to prevent Suspicion of my Love;
Yet know with Pain and Torture I endur'd
The Persecution of her merciless Tongue.
For nothing is more tedious to a Wretch
O'erwhelm'd with Misery, than to dissemble
His Grief, and be deny'd to give it vent;
And none are more impatient of Impertinence
Than the Afflicted—How did she torment
My suff'ring Ears with ill-tim'd, idle Mirth?
With fulsom Praises of the Prince's Beauty,
And with more nauseous Flattery of my own!
Why what's the Prince to me? Suppose his Shape
Be well proportion'd, and his Air so charming;
Yet why must I be teiz'd with such Descriptions?

Zaid.
Madam, I wish that part of her Discourse
Were so impertinent as you imagine.

Abr.
What means my Zaida by those doubtful Words?

Zaid.
With reason I suspect 'twas not for nothing
That she appear'd so zealous in his Praise.
I fear she has some deep Design on foot,
Which may occasion more Uneasiness
To you.—But see, she has explain'd her Meaning.

Enter Solyman and Marama.
Abr.
Confusion, and Surprize! Some Pow'r protect me!

[Solyman comes forward, and throws himself at her Feet.
Mar.
I see she's fir'd; from her upbraiding Looks
She darts Reproof, and chides me with her Eyes.

Sol.
See, Madam, at your Feet a prostrate Prince
Who led by your fam'd Beauty hither comes
(Tho' with apparent Hazard of his Life)
To offer you his unpolluted Vows;
And melt you into Love, or die before you.

Zaid.
Is this well done, Marama?—Treach'rous Woman!

Mar.
Peace, Fool:—Thy Mistress knows not her own Int'rest,
If with affected Coyness she refuse him.

Sol.
You seem disorder'd, Madam; and I fear
I am th'unhappy Cause of your Disquiet.
I have been rude, and impudently press'd
Upon your Privacy—But oh! your Charms
Have taken ample Vengeance on my Folly
By causing more Confusion in my Soul,
Than my intruding Boldness can in yours.
What, not a Look? O turn your beauteous Eyes,
And with another Glance confirm me dead,
If yet I live;—for I have drank so deep
Of Love, that it already has o'erwhelm'd
My Reason, rais'd a Tempest in my Breast
Which wracks my Soul; but Oh! the mighty Pleasure
Rises in just Proportion to the Torment,
And had you pain'd me less, you less had pleas'd me.

Zaid.
I see Resentment kindling in her Looks;
As her Surprize abates, her Anger rises,
And Indignation sparkles in her Eyes.

Abr.
Yes; you have seen me in Confusion, Sir;
And think perhaps that one whom her Misfortunes
Have made a Slave, will readily comply
With your first Offer, and is fit for nothing
But to be made the Object of Affronts.
But, Prince, I must inform you—

Sol.
O forbear;
Forbear, fair Excellence, to stab me through
With such unkind Expressions—You a Slave?
'Tis my Ambition, Madam, to be yours.
But all in vain; for still you are displeas'd.—
Yet ev'n your Anger charms, and you appear
Awfully fair, and lovely in your Frowns.
Not our great Prophet's self enjoys such Beauty
In the delicious Groves of Paradise,
When on sweet Beds of Flow'rs—

Abr.
If any thing
Can possibly be more offensive to me
Than Flatt'ry, 'tis Prophaneness.—

Sol.
Such sharp Reproof! pronounc'd with such an Accent,
And with a Look so charmingly severe!
Relentless Fates! Ah! why am I condemn'd
T'offend the only Person in the World
Whom I desire to please? Is't possible
That any Wretch can be more curs'd than I?
When ev'ry Word you speak inflames my Love,
Yet adds to my Despair.

Abr.
Fly, Sir; be gone,
While yet you are safe; your Brother will be here,
And certain Death you know's the Consequence.

Sol.
And certain Death is welcom; let it come
In the most ghastly Shape it can put on;
Yet your Disdain will fill me with more Horror,
Than all it's griefly Terrors. Since my Love,
My spotless Love offends you—Take my Head;
Let me intreat you, Madam, sacrifice it
To my inexorable Brother's Rage:
Your Love's my first Desire, and Death my second.
This Favour sure you readily will grant;
Such Pity the displeas'd, the cruel Abra
Will not deny ev'n to her greatest Foe,
The curst, the scorn'd, the hated Solyman.

Abr.
I am not, Sir, desirous of Revenge;
And therefore pardon you on these Conditions,
That you withdraw, suppress this hopeless Love,
And leave me to enjoy that Conversation
Which better suits my Sex and Circumstances.

Sol.
Tho' dying Misers with far less Regret
Forsake their Lands, and Bags of hoarded Gold,
Yet, Madam, ev'n in this I will obey.
But when I'm parted from you, think, O think
The Image of your Charms is still before me;
And when I sleep, (if any Sleep can close
My weeping Eye-lids) then my busie Fancy
Presents to me in Dream your lov'd Idea.
And then reflect what Pangs I must endure,
What melancholy Days, and restless Nights;
When I consider your relentless Heart,
And my own lost Condition.—Think on this,
And then let Pity plead in my Behalf.
And you, kind Fair, (for in your Looks I read
[To Zaida.
Goodness, and soft Compassion) intercede
With your inexorable Mistress for me.
Be you my Advocate; exert your Int'rest
In a distress'd, a dying Lover's Cause.
And once more, Madam, e'er I go, I beg you
[To Abr.
Remember in your Hands my Fate is lodg'd;
From you a Curse or Blessing I derive,
Die when you frown, but with your Smiles revive.

[Ex. with Mar.
Abr.
My Smiles! vain Man! He seem'd to mock my Suff'rings;
For who e'er heard of smiling Misery?
Alas! my Zaida, what a World of Woe
Had Fate in Store, what mighty Funds of Sorrow
T'increase the pressing Weight of my Misfortunes!
For Oh! I fear the dismal Consequence
Of this fond Prince's Passion.—Haste, my Zaida,
Find out my Lord, and give him timely Notice
Of what has happen'd—
[Exit Zaida.
How great is the Mistake of our vain Sex,
Who think the Number of their fond Admirers
Alone can make 'em happy!—She indeed
Who unsubdu'd by Love his Pow'r defies,
May with Delight her num'rous Conquests prize;
And view with careless Air the Triumphs of her Eyes.
But when those am'rous Pains our Breasts divide;
We find, in spight of our fantastick Pride,
We should more true and lasting Pleasure prove,
Were we belov'd by none, but those we love.

[Scene shuts.
Enter Haly and Cuproli.
Hal.
The Prince in Love, you say—Had you inform'd me
That he's grown fond of Empire, you had told
A Secret worth the hearing.—But what Use
Do you intend to make of this Discov'ry?

Cupr.
Be patient then, and in few Words I'll tell you.
Not half an Hour ago I met the Prince;
Who, tho' he seem'd impatient of Delay,
And eager to be gone, abruptly told me
He was engag'd in an Affair of Love;
And just then going with his Spy Marama
To the Apartment of a beauteous Virgin,
Who came this Day to the Seraglio.
But that which makes directly for my Purpose,
And which I ground my Project on, is this:
As yet the Sultan has not seen this Beauty;
Nor is the Kisler forward to present her,
Nor she to be presented. Solyman
On this builds all his Hopes—If he succeed,
And without Molestation gain his Mistress;
He never will be work'd into our Plot.
Wherefore our Care must be t'inform the Sultan
Of this new Beauty; Mahomet has a Heart
As soft to Love's Impressions, as his Brother.
Then when the am'rous Prince perceives his Hopes
Defeated, and his Mistress ravish'd from him
By that all-pow'rful Rival, he will need
No more Persuasions to dethrone his Brother;
Since that's the only Method he can take
To make him happy, in the full Enjoyment
Of what he so impatiently desires.

Hal.
Auspicious Plot! Sure Mischief never thrives
Without the Help of Woman.—But which way
Shall we discover this important Secret
To Mahomet?

Cupr.
For that depend on me.
I have a Female Creature in the Court;
Her I'll instruct to hint it to his Ear,
And fire his Jealousie.—Ha! here again?
Enter Pyrrhus, the Kisler Aga, and Zaida.
New Interruption from that hateful Pair?
Away, retire; we must not be observ'd.

[Ex. Hal. and Cupr.
Pyr.
Curs'd Accident!—Sure some malignant Planet
Which long has spar'd me, now of late begins
To shed on me its baleful Influence.
A Rival!—This of all my mighty Woes
Comes least expected; with vain flatt'ring Hopes
I comforted my self, that her Confinement,
However grievous to me, would at least
Secure me from the Danger of a Rival.
But now I am deny'd the wretched Privilege,
Which ev'n from my Misfortunes I enjoy'd.
But tell me, Zaida, has my Love receiv'd
The Letter which I sent her? 'Twill perhaps
Be some Refreshment to her troubled Soul
To read those Lines, and bath them with her Tears.

Zaid.
Before I left her, no such Letter came
To her Apartment.—

Kisl.
I deliver'd it
To one of my attending, trusty Slaves;
With strict Command to give it none, but her.

Pyr.
But see, th'injurious Robber of my Rest
Enter Solyman musing.
Appears—

Kisl.
The Prince? Pray, good my Lord, retire;
He must not see us Two in Consultation.

[Exeunt.
Sol.
Do I yet live? Or has Love's wond'rous force
Transform'd me to a Ghost? My frighted Friends
Will fly me soon, and shun my lonely Walks.
O were that all, I might be happy still!—
But she whom most I labour to pursue,
She, she will fly me, hate me, scorn me, loath me;
She will?—She has, she does; and 'tis not likely
That she, who now rejects me with Disdain,
Should fall in Love with my Deformity,
My meagre Looks, and more than dying Paleness.
Tho' 'tis but just she should with Pity view me,
Since my Deformity will be reflected
From her all-conqu'ring Beauty; 'tis but just
She should at last be kind, and with her Love
Repair the Ruins which her Scorn has made.

Enter Marama.
Mar.
Alone, my Lord? You Lovers are so thoughtful—

Sol.
O my Marama! do not mock my Miseries;
I swear 'tis now no time for trifling with me;
I have no middle Fate, but now must be
Most wretched, or most happy.

Mar.
Happy, Sir;
For if my Cunning, which ne'er fail'd you yet,
Be not quite jaded, that disdainful Fair
Shall yet be yours.

Sol.
I doubt it, dear Marama—
Such keen Reflections, such resentful Looks,
Such fix'd Resolves shew more of Hate than Coyness.
Can'st thou not guess the Cause of her Severity?

Mar.
I can.

Sol.
O speak!

Mar.
This Paper will speak for me.

[Giving a Letter.
Sol.
What's here? Distraction!—To his faithful Abra —
Ha! Absence—Vows—Fidelity—For Souls
Know no Confinement—O the racking Torture!—
Wond'rous familiar! But no Name subscrib'd—
How came you by this Paper?

Mar.
I met a Slave posting tow'rds her Apartment;
Whom I, suspecting, stop'd; and telling him
I was her Friend, and intimate Acquaintance,
And just then going to her, with smooth Words
Persuaded him t'intrust me with his Letter;
With Promise to deliver it that Minute.
At first he scrupl'd;—But at length rememb'ring
That he had seen me with her, slip'd the Paper
Into my Hand, and in a Moment vanish'd.

Sol.
Know you not whence it came?

Mar.
The Slave was gone
E'er I could ask the Question.

Sol.
Curse on his Haste.
May all—
But I'll not waste my Curses on a Slave;
No—They shall all be carefully reserv'd
For this detested Rival—Whoe'er he be,
For ever blasted be the Hand that wrote,
The Heart that dictated these fond Expressions.
May Fortune seem to smile upon their Wishes;
But when they're just upon the Brink of Happiness,
Secure of Disappointment, may she then
Sever their Loves, and tear them from each other,
As thus—

[About to tear the Letter.
Mar.
Hold, Sir,—What would your Fury do?
This Paper must be carefully preserv'd;
Some of your Friends may by the Character
Discover him who sent it.

Sol.
I thank thy Caution; Rage and Jealousie
Had almost turn'd my Brain—O to compleat
The direful Curses which I would denounce
Against that Foe who robs me of my Quiet;
May he be satisfy'd he has a Rival,
And never know the Person; so that he
May feel the Pangs and Throes which I endure;
And be as exquisite a Wretch, as he
Who makes him so.—

Enter Cuproli.
Cupr.
My Lord, I came to find you.

Sol.
Why then thou cam'st to find as very a Madman
As ever rav'd in Chains—Know you this Hand?

Cupr.
Perfectly as my own; it is the Visier's,
Too well I know that hated Character,
Which sign'd me my Commission; which, if Merit
Had been respected, that aspiring Fav'rite
Would have receiv'd from me, not I from him.

Sol.
The Visier? ha! the Visier? O my Cuproli,
Thy Hate against him, if compar'd with mine,
Is mild as Children's Love, or Women's Friendship.
In Glory he's thy Rival, mine in Love;
Thee he debars from Greatness, me from Happiness;
Which nothing but his Blood can e'er attone for.

Cupr.
Now you're indeed a Prince: 'Tis Royal Anger,
But Threats do nothing.—

Sol.
Nor shall my Vengeance terminate in Threats;
You know I am not us'd to menace thus,
And therefore may believe I am in earnest.

Mar.
My Company at present may be spar'd;
I will withdraw, and seek some other Place,
Where I may do more Service.—

[Exit.
Cupr.
I do believe you; in your Looks appears
Noble Resentment, and you now resolve
(I read it in your Eyes) to mount the Throne,
And bless your longing People with your Reign.

Sol.
O torture not my Brain with curs'd Ambition;
To which I always was averse; but now
Much more than ever, since my lab'ring Soul
Is wholly taken up with Thoughts of Love.

Cupr.
Why 'tis your Love that I design to further;
The Visier stands betwixt your Hopes and you:
Nor can you ever hurt a Hair of his,
While Mahomet is able to protect him.

Sol.
So you have often said.

Cupr.
And 'tis too true;
Wherefore you either must contentedly
Forego your Mistress, or Dethrone your Brother.

Sol.
Why should he suffer for the Visier's Fault?
My Brother's not my Rival—

Cupr.
Say you so?
He is e'er this, unless my trusty Agent
Has plaid me false.—

[Aside.
Sol.
Retire, my worthy Friend;
Give me a Moment's Thought, and I will follow,
And then impart my final Resolution.

Cupr.
Farewel, my Lord.—I see I have him sure;
For if my Arguments prove ineffectual,
My Project cannot fail; it matters not
Tho' I want Rhet'rick, since my Stratagem
Will amply make amends for that Defect.

[Exit.
Sol.
Forego my Love? No—sooner shall the Frame
Of Nature be dissolv'd—And yet my Soul
Shrinks at the Horror of my Brother's Fate;
And 'tis my first Endeavour to compleat
My Happiness without disturbing his.
But if it be decreed that either he
Must quit his Throne, or I that charming Maid;
My Choice is made; it will be less unnat'ral
To break the Tie of Kindred than of Love.
Enter the Kisler Aga.
But see, here comes the Messenger of Death.
I fear I am betray'd.

Kisl.
My Lord, your Ear;
Can you not guess my Bus'ness?

Sol.
Guessing, Sir,
Is not my Talent; pray explain your self,
And I may apprehend.

Kisl.
I hear of late
You are grown the Sultan's Rival in his Pleasures.

Sol.
Spare your Preambles, and without more Preface
Speak your Thoughts boldly, say in short you came
To give me notice of approaching Death.

Kisl.
Your Fears are groundless: True, I know your Fault,
And must, my Lord, upbraid you for your Rashness;
But not one Drop of your illustrious Blood
Shall through my Information e'er be spilt.

Sol.
Ha!

Kisl.
Nay more; I came to proffer you my Service;
And am so far from enterprising ought
Against your Life, that I will stake my own
To make you happy.

Sol.
You have so o'erpower'd me
With unexpected Kindness, that my Tongue
Is mute, and Speech too scanty to express
My inward Gratitude.—I cannot thank you.

Kisl.
Nor ought you pay your Thanks 'till I deserve 'em,
Which I e'er long will do; for if my Int'rest
In the Seraglio be worth desiring,
You may command it: She for whom you sigh,
She shall be yours; and sure that lovely Maid
As much excels the Sultan's other Beauties
As you the Sultan.

Sol.
I can hold no longer;
My struggling Gratitude must have some vent;
And since in Words it cannot, thus it speaks,
And thus, and thus.—

[Hugs him.
Kisl.
Reserve your Raptures for your Mistress's Ear,
Whose Beauty for your sake I will conceal
From Mahomet; mean while we may have leisure
For Consultation, and contrive the Means
To bring her to your Arms—Your noble Carriage,
And more than Princely Qualities command
The Service and Respect of all that know you.
Therefore if any Obstacle there be
Which may be prejudicial to your Love,
Tell it me, Sir, that I with timely Care
May labour to remove it.

Sol.
There is a dreadful one;
The Visier is my Rival.

Kisl.
This goes well.
[Aside.
The Visier? Sure you have been misinform'd.

Sol.
This Letter will convince you, which by Art
I intercepted.—

Kisl.
Give it me, my Lord;
[Sol. gives the Letter.
That I with this may prove his bold Presumption,
And to his Face confront him.—Doubt not, Sir,
But I with Threats shall force him to desist.

Enter Pyrrhus behind.
Sol.
Now, Mahomet, thou art again secure;
I shall not need thy Pow'r.

[Aside.
Pyr.
What do I see?
My Friend in Consultation with my Rival?

Sol.
Words cannot utter
How much your Generosity affects me;
You have this Minute liv'd an Age of Friendship;
And I will study to deserve your Kindness.
Farewel—and be, if possible, as happy
As you would make the grateful Solyman.

[Exit.
Kisl.
That's very possible.—Ha! here, my Lord?
You come in time—

Pyr.
To witness to your Falshood.
Could I have thought I ever should have cause
T'upbraid your Breach of Faith?

Kisl.
Nor have you now.

Pyr.
Why do you shift the Accusation from you?
Are you not false?

Kisl.
I am, but not to you.
No, Sir—I could not give a better Proof
Of my unviolated Fidelity,
Than by this seeming Falshood—to you seeming,
But real to the Prince. For by the help
Of this pretended Kindness I've recover'd
Your Letter, and disarm'd him of the Pow'r
To do you Mischief.—

[Gives him the Letter.
Pyr.
I apprehend, and must with Shame applaud
Thy Wit, and bless thy unexampled Friendship.

Kisl.
But what's yet more; I have by this remov'd
All that could make your Rival formidable.
Now I have laid his Jealousie asleep,
Which otherwise might have prov'd fatal to us.
And now persuaded of my Zeal to serve him,
What e'er I do for you, he will applaud
As done for him, and I shall have his Thanks
For carrying on your Int'rest; nay yet more,
He will be wholly guided by my Counsel,
And move as I direct him: Nay perhaps
His and Marama's Cunning may be useful
To further our Design, and you promote
Your Int'rest by th'Assistance of your Rival.

Pyr.
That ever I should once suspect such Truth,
Such wond'rous Friendship! But thy Plot was wrought
Too fine for my dull Sight:—Canst thou forgive me?

Kisl.
My Lord, I cannot blame you;
If, when you heard and saw what pass'd between us,
Your good Opinion of my Truth was stagger'd,
E'er you knew all.—But come, no more of this.
Droop not, brave Sir; Fortune is yet your own,
And all these Difficulties will e'er long
Shed kinder Influence, inhance your Joys,
And prove Ingredients of your Happiness.

Pyr.
O! Blessings on thee, whose reviving Words
Have rais'd me from the Depth of black Despair;
And once more giv'n me the delightful Prospect
Of my approaching Bliss.—And now methinks
The Clouds of our Misfortunes break away;
And spight of all the Dangers which have threaten'd,
My Genius whispers I shall yet by happy.
And still the more I think, my Hopes rise higher;
The lovely Creature's mine, I have her here;
For ever mine.—O Blessing inexpressible!
The bare Reversion of which is better
Than the Possession of all other Pleasures.—

Enter Mahomet attended.
Mah.
Where is that saucy Slave, that dares controul
My Pleasures, and infringe my best Prerogative?
Ha! Villain, have I found thee? Tell me quickly
How didst thou dare to keep the charming Abra,
That Miracle of Beauty, from my Sight?

Kisl.
Discover'd? This unlook'd for Accident
Has so amaz'd me, that I'm Thunder-struck
And know not what to answer.—

[Aside.
Mah.
What, speechless?

Kisl.
I confess, your Majesty
Has much surpriz'd me by so strange a Question.
She whom you speak of is this Day arriv'd;
And therefore not yet fit t'appear before you,
And shew her Beauty at the best Advantage.
Nor did I ever yet receive Commands
To bring your charming Slaves to your Embraces
Just at their first Arrival.

Mah.
But I hear
This is a Beauty of such uncommon Excellence,
That none who ever shone within my Court
Could match her dazzling Brightness; and if so
Thou shouldst have brought me the transporting News
Of her Arrival with as great Impatience
As if th'inferior Monarchs of the World
Were all unanimously come, to lay
Their Scepters at my Footstool, and resign
The yet unconquer'd Globe.—

Pyr.
O give me Patience.

[Aside.
Kisl.
Most mighty Emperor—

Mah.
Peace, formal Slave;
I have not time to hear thy dull Excuses;
Be dumb, and listen to my strict Command.
I charge thee bring that lovely, charming Maid
Into the pleasant Grotto near the Palace;
Let her attend me there.—Look thou obey me,
Or by my Hopes and boiling Expectation
Thy Life shall answer it.

Pyr.
Dread Sir, I hear
The Fury of the murm'ring Populace
Is ris'n so high, that they begin to threaten
Your Sacred Life, and the Seditious Soldiers
Talk of revolting.

Mah.
Most audacious Traitors!—
Be it your Care to quell their Mutiny;
They shall not rob me of a Moment's Pleasure.
No—first I'll go where Love and Beauty call me;
Then put on Majesty, and be all Monarch;
Awe the presumptuous Rebels with my Frowns,
And look them into Duty—As they say
That celebrated King, the mighty Jove,
Fatigu'd with Empire left his Throne above;
And for a while enjoy'd the Sweets of Love.
Then Tow'ring high to his sublime Abode,
Shook Earth and Seas with his Imperial Nod;
Abroad his unresisted Lightning hurl'd,
And with Vindictive Thunder scar'd the trembling World.

[Ex.
Pyr.
Sure 'twas a Dream, and my deluding Fancy
Has scar'd me with a Vision—Say, my Friend,
Am I awake? and was the Sultan here?

Kisl.
Alas! he was.—

Pyr.
Then all, it seems, was real,
And I'm the very Wretch that Fate design'd.
No—'Tis impossible—It cannot be—
Why but a Moment since I was most happy,
And sailing in the Port—O! no—I was not—
Then, then I dream'd; and fed on Aiery Hopes,
Which my own flatt'ring Wishes form'd—But now
Fortune has rous'd me from that pleasing Sleep,
To make me feel, and throughly understand
Substantial Mis'ry—But I'll not complain;
Women and Cowards rail at their Misfortunes—
I will curb in my Grief, and in my Breast
Confine the struggling Passion, 'till my Veins
Are burst, and from my Eyes the gushing Blood
Start out instead of Tears.

Kisl.
Capricious Chance!
How swift a Turn was this!—Just as your Hopes
Were elevated to the highest pitch,
And bore you to the Clouds; they strait retreated,
And left you to Despair.

Pyr.
Ay, there's the Torment.
So I have heard with equal suddenness
Ebbing prodigiously the Sea withdrew,
And quite defenceless left the scaly Race.
The Dolphins which e'er while with wanton Pride
Spread their broad Fins, and lash'd the foaming Tide;
Vainly assay'd to suck the faithless Flood
With heaving Gills, and tumbl'd in the Mud.
And Whales which with their Trunks the Stars could reach,
Now flounc'd and panted on the slimy Beach.
So have my Hopes, whose Waves e'er while ran o'er,
And to the Skies my tow'ring Wishes bore;
Retir'd, and left me gasping on the Shore.

[Exeunt.