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Pure clinches the suburban muse affords,

Let 'em be all by thy own model made And Pantoni waging harmless war with words. Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid ; Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well-known, That they to future ages may be known, Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne :

Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. For ancient Dekker prophesied, long since,

Nay, let thy men of wit, too, be the same, That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, All full of thee, and diff?ring but in name. Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense ;

But let no alien Sedley interpose, To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe; To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.l But worlds of misers from his pen should flow; And, when false flowers of rhet'ric thou wouldst cull, Humorists and hypocrites it should produce;

Trust nature, do not labour to be dull; Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.2 But write thy best, and top; and, in each line,

Now empress Fame had publish'd the renown Sir Formal's oratory will be thine : Of Shadwell's coronation through the town.

Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, Rous'd by report of Fame, the nations meet,

And does thy northern dedications fill.
From near Bun Hill, and distant Watling Street; Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame,
No Persian carpets spread th’imperial way,

By arrogating Jonson's hostile name.
But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay:

Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd,

And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. And Herringman' was captain of the guard.

Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: The hoary prince in majesty appear'd,

What share have we in nature or in art ! High on a throne of his own labours rear'd.

Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, At his right hand our young Ascanius sat,

And rail at arts he did not understand ! Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state;

Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein, His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace,

Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain ? And lambent dulness play'd around his face.

When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, As Hannibal did to the altars come,

As thou whole Etherege dost transfuse to thine ! Sworn by bis sire a mortal foe to Rome,

But so transfusd as oil and waters flow;
So Shadwell swore, nor should his yow be vain, His always floats above, thine sinks below.
That he, till death, true dulness would maintain; This is thy province, this thy wondrous way,
And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, New humours to invent for each new play:
Ne'er to have peace with Wit, nor truce with Sense. This is that boasted bias of thy mind,
The king himself the sacred unction made,

By which one way to dulness 'tis inclin'd;
As king by office, and as priest by trade.

Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, In his sinister hand, instead of ball,

And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. He placed a mighty mug of potent ale;

Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence 'Love's Kingdom'4 to his right he did convey Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. At once his sceptre and his rule of sway;

A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ; Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young, But sure thou’rt but a kilderkin of wit. And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung:

Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; His temples last with poppies were o'erspread, Thy tragic muse gives smiles; thy comic, sleep. That, nodding, seem'd to consecrate his head.

With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself to write, Just at the point of time, if fame not lie,

Thy inoffensive satires never bite. On his left hand twelve rev'rend owls did fly.

In thy felonious heart, though venom lies, So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook,

It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies.
Presage of sway from twice six vultures took.

Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame
Th'admiring throng loud acclamations make, In keen lambics, but mild Anagram.
And omens of his future empire take.

Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command The fire then shook the honours of his head,

Some peaceful province in Acrostic land. And from his brows damps of oblivion shed

There thou may'st wings display, and altars raise, Full on the filial dulness : long he stood,

And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. Repelling from his breast the raging god;

Or, if thou wouldst thy diff'rent talents suit, At length burst out in this prophetic mood :

Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute.' Heav'n bless my son, from Ireland let him reign, He said: but his last words were scarcely heard ; To far Barbadoes on the western main;

For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd; Of his dominion may no end be known,

And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. And greater than his father's be his throne;

Sinking, he left his drugget robe behind, Beyond Love's Kingdom let him stretch his pen!' Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. He paus'd; and all the people cried, Amen.

The mantle fell to the young prophet's part,
Then thus continued he: My son, advance

With double portion of his father's art.
Still in new impudence, new ignorance.
Success let others teach ; learn thou, from me,

The Hind and Panther.
Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry,
Let Virtuosos in five years be writ;

A milk-white hind, immortal and unchang'd,
Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit.

Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang'd; Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage,

Without, unspotted ; innocent, within ; Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage :

She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin: Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling,5 charm the pit,

Yet had she oft been chas'd with horns and hounds, And, in their folly, show the writer's wit.

And Scythian shafts, and many winged wounds Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence,

Aim'd at her heart; was often forc'd to fly, And justify their author's want of sense.

And doom'd to death, though fated not to die. TA well-known punster.

1 Sir Charles Sodley was understood to have assisted Shad& Characters in Shadwell's dramas. 8 A dramatic publisher. well in his play of Epsom Wells.'

4. Love's Kingdom' is the name of a pastoral drama by | Two of the characters in Shadwell's Virtuoso,' who play a Richard Flecknoe.

trick on Sir Formal Trifle by means of a trap-door. The conCharacters in Sir George Etherege's 'Man of Mode,' and clusion of Dryden's satire, as well as the general design of t • Love in a Tub."

| poem, was closely copied by Pope in his Dunciad.

0

Panting and pensive, now she ranged alone,

Or, call'd to more superior bliss,
And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own :

Thou tread'st, with seraphims, the vast abyss :
The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd Whatever happy region is thy place,
By sovereign power, her company disdain'd,

Cease thy celestial song a little space ;
Grinn'd as they pass’d, and with a glaring eye Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity.

Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
"Tis true she bounded by, and tripp'd so light, Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse,
They had not time to take a steady sight :

In no ignoble verse; For truth has such a face and such a mien,

But such as thine own voice did practice here, As to be lov’d, needs only to be seen.

When thy first fruits of poesy were given ;

To make thyself a welcome inmate there : The Panther, sure the noblest next the Hind,

While yet a young probationer, st creature of the spotted kind:

And candidate of heaven. Oh, could her in-born stains be wash'd away,

If by traduction came thy mind, She were too good to be a beast of prey !

Our wonder is the less to find How can I praise, or blame, and not offend,

A soul so charming from a stock so good; Or how divide the frailty from the friend ?

Thy father was transfus'd into thy blood : Her faults and virtues lie so mix'd, that she

So wert thou born into a tuneful strain, Nor wholly stands condemn'd nor wholly free;

An early, rich, and inexhausted vein. Then like her injur'd lion, let me speak;

But if thy pre-existing soul He cannot bend her, and he would not break.

Was form'd at first with myriads more, Unkind already, and estrang’d in part,

It did through all the mighty poets roll, The wolf begins to share her wandering heart :

Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, Though unpolluted yet with actual ill,

And was that Sappho last, which once it was before. She half commits who sins but in her will.

If so, then cease thy flight, О heaven-born mind ! If, as our dreaming Platonists report,

Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore : There could be spirits of a middle sort,

Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell,

Than was the beauteous frame she left behind. Who just dropt half way down, nor lower fell;

Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind So pois'd, so gently, she descends from high, It seems a soft dismission from the sky.

O gracious God! how far have we

Profan'd thy heav'nly gift of poesy ! [The Swallow.)

Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, [From the same.)

Debas'd to each obscene and impious use,

Whose harmony was first ordain'd above The swallow, privileg'd above the rest

For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love? Of all the birds as man's familiar guest,

O wretched we! why were we hurried down
Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold,

This lubrique and adulterate age,
But wisely shuns the persecuting cold;
Is well to chancels and to chimneys known,

(Nay, added fat pollutions of our own)

T'increase the steaming ordures of the stage ! Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone.

What can we say t' excuse our second fall? From hence she has been held of heavenly line,

Let this thy vestal, heaven, atone for all; Endued with particles of soul divine :

Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd,
This merry chorister had long possess'd

Unmix'd with foreign filth, and undefil'd;
Her summer seat, and feather'd well her nest,
Till frowning skies began to change their cheer,

Her wit was more than man; her innocence a child. And time turn'd up the wrong side of the year;

When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound, The shedding trees began the ground to strow With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow:

To raise the nations under ground;

When in the valley of Jehoshaphat, Such auguries of winter thence she drew,

The judging God shall close the book of fate; Which by instinct or prophecy she knew;

And there the last assizes keep When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes,

For those who wake, and those who sleep; And seek a better heaven and warmer climes.

The sacred poets first shall hear the sound, Her sons were summon’d on a steeple's height,

And foremost from the tomb shall bound, And, call'd in common council, vote a flight.

For they are cover'd with the lightest ground; The day was nam'd, the next that should be fair;

And straight, with in-born vigour, on the wing, All to the general rendezvous repair ;

Like mountain larks, to the new morning sing. They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves

There thou, sweet saint, before the quire shall go, in air.

As harbinger of heaven, the way to show,
Who but the swallow now triumphs alone ?

The way which thou so well hast learnt below.
The canopy of heaven is all her own :
Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair,

[On Milton.]
And glide along in glades, and skim in air,
And dip for insects in the purling springs,

Three poets, in three distant ages born, And stoop on rivers, to refresh their wings.

Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.

The first in loftiness of thought surpass’d,
Ode to the Memory of Mrs Anne Killigrew.

The next in majesty ; in both the last.

The force of nature could no further go; Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,

To make a third, she join'd the other two. Made in the last promotion of the blest ; Whose palms, new pluck'd from paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise,

To my Honoured Kinsman, John Dryden, Esq. of Ches

terton, in the County of Huntingdon. Rich with immortal green above the rest : Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,

How bless'd is he who leads a country life, Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race,

Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of strife! Or, in procession fix'd and regular,

Who, studying peace, and shunning civil rage, Mov'st with the heaven-majestic pace ;

| Enjoyd his youth, and now enjoys his age !

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To 1689.

Nor think the kindred muses thy disgrace;
A poet is not born in every race:
Two of a house few ages can afford,
One to perform, another to record.
Praiseworthy actions are by thee embrac'd,
And 'tis my praise to make thy praises last :
For even when death dissolves our human frame,
The soul returns to heaven, from whence it came;
Earth keeps the body; verse preserves the fame.

All who deserve his love he makes his own,
And to be lov'd himself needs only to be known.
Just, good, and wise, contending neighbours come,
From your award, to wait their final doom,
And, foes before, return in friendship home.
Without their cost you terminate the cause,
And save th' expense of long litigious laws;
Where suits are travers'd, and so little won,
That he who conquers is but least undone.
Such are not your decrees; but, so design'd,
The sanction leaves a lasting peace behind,
Like your own soul serene, a pattern of your mind.

Promoting concord, and composing strife,
Lord of yourself, uncumber'd with a wife;
No porter guards the passage of your door,
To admit the wealthy and exclude the poor;
For God, who gave the riches, gave the heart,
To sanctify the whole by giving part.
Heaven, who foresaw the will, the means has wrought,
And to the second son a blessing brought :
The first begotten had his father's share,
But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's heir.

So may your stores and fruitful fields increase,
And ever be you bless'd who live to bless.
As Ceres sow'd where'er her chariot flew;
As heaven in deserts rain'd the bread of dew;
So free to many, to relations most,
You feed with manna your own Israel host.

With crowds attended of your ancient race,
You seek the champaign sports or sylvan chase :
With well-breath'd beagles you surround the wood,
E'en then industrious of the common good;
And often have you brought the wily fox
To suffer for the firstlings of the flocks;
Chas'd e'en amid the folds, and made to bleed,
Like felons where they did the murderous deed.
This fiery game your active youth maintain'd,
Not yet by years extinguish'd, though restrain'd;
You season still with sports your serious hours;
For age but tastes of pleasures, youth devours,
The hare in pastures or in plains is found,
Emblem of human life, who runs the round,
And, after all his wandering ways are done,
His circle fills, and ends where he begun,
Just as the setting meets the rising sun. . *
A patriot both the king and country serves,
Prerogative and privilege preserves;
Of each our laws the certain limit show;
One must not ebb, nor t'other overflow:
Betwixt the prince and parliament we sta::d,
The barriers of the state on either hand
May neither overflow, for then they drown the land.
When both are full they feed our bless'd abode,
Like those that water'd once the Paradise of God.

Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share ;
In peace the people ; and the prince in war :
Consuls of moderate power in calms were made;
When the Gauls came, one sole Dictator sway'd.

Patriots in peace assert the people's right,
With noble stubbornness resisting might;
No lawless mandates from the court receive,
Nor lend by force, but in a body give.
Such was your generous grandsire, free to grant,
In parliaments that weigh'd their prince's want;
But so tenacious of the common cause,
As not to lend the king against the laws;
And in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie,
In bonds retain'd his birthright liberty,
And shar'd oppression till it set him free.

O, true descendant of a patriot line!
Who, while thou shar’st their lustre, lend'st them

thine;
Vouchsafe this picture of thy soul to see,
'Tis so far good, as it resembles thee;
The beauties to the original I owe,
Which, when I miss my own defects, I show.

Alexander's Peast.
'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won,

By Philip's warlike son:
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate

On his imperial throne :

His valiant peers were plac'd around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound;

So should desert in arms be crown'd.
The lovely Thaïs by his side
Sat, like a blooming Eastern bride,
In flower of youth and beauty's pride.

Happy, happy, happy pair ;

None but the brare,
None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.
Timotheus, plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,

And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,
Such is the power of mighty Love!
A dragon's fiery form belied the god :
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia press'd;
And while he sought her snowy breast,

Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the

world.
The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound;

A present deity, they shout around;
A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:

With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,

Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:

The jolly god in triumph comes ;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Flush'd with a purple grace

He shows his honest face.
Now, gire the hautboys breath ; he comes ! he comes !

Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain:
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain :

Fought all his battles o'er again :
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew

the slain.
The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And, while he heav'n and earth defied,
Chang'd his hand, and check'a his pride.

He chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse :

He sung Darius great and good,

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
By too severe a fate

Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,
Fall'n, fall'n, fall’n, fall'n,

And added length to solemn sounds,
Fall'n from his high estate,

With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. And welt'ring in his blood;

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Deserted at his utmost need

Or both divide the crown:
By those his former bounty fed,

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

She drew an angel down.
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcast look the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul

Theodore and Honoria.
The-various turns of fate below; Of all the cities in Romanian lands,
And now and then a sigh he stole,

The chief, and most renown'd, Ravenna stands,
And tears began to flow.

Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts,

And rich inhabitants, with generous hearts.
The mighty master smild to see

But Theodore the brave, above the rest,
That love was in the next degree :

With gifts of fortune and of nature bless'd,
'Twas but a kindred sound to move;

The foremost place for wealth and honour held,
For pity melts the mind to love.

And all in feats of chivalry excell'd.
Softly sweet in Lydian measures,

This noble youth to madness lor'd a dame
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures;

Of high degree, Honoria was her name;
War, he sung, is toil and trouble ;

Fair as the fairest, but of haughty mind,
Honour but an empty bubble;

And fiercer than became so soft a kind.
Never ending, still beginning,

Proud of her birth (for equal she had none),
Fighting still, and still destroying;

The rest she scorn'd, but hated him alone.
If the world be worth thy winning,

His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd;
Think, 0 think it worth enjoying!

For she, the more he lov'd, the more disdain'd.
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,
Take the good the gods provide thee.

At tilts and tournaments obtain'd the prize,
The many rend the skies with loud applause ;

But found no favour in his lady's eyes :
So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.

Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Turn'd all to poison that he did or said:
Gaz'd on the fair

Nor prayers, nor tears, nor offer'd vows, could move;
Who caus'd his care,

The work went backward; and the more he strove
And sigh'd and look’d, sigh’d and look'd,

T'advance his suit, the farther from her love.
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again.

Wearied at length, and wanting remedy,
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,

He doubted oft, and oft resolv'd to die. The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

But pride stood ready to prevent the blow, Now strike the golden lyre again ;

For who would die to gratify a foe?

His generous mind disdain'd so mean a fate; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.

That pass'd, his next endeavour was to hate.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

But vainer that relief than all the rest.
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark! hark! the horrid sound

The less he hop'd, with more desire possess'd ;

Love stood the siege, and would not yield his breast. Has rais'd up his head,

Change was the next, but change deceiv'd his care;
As awak'd from the dead,

He sought a fairer, but found none so fair.
And, amaz’d, he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries ;

He would have worn, her out by slow degrees,
See the Furies arise ;

As men by fasting starve th' untam'd disease :
See the snakes that they rear !

But present love requir'd a present ease.
How they hiss in the air,

Looking, he feeds alone his famish'd eyes,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !

Feeds lingering death, but looking not, he dies.

Yet still he chose the longest way to fate,
Behold a ghastly band,

Wasting at once his life and his estate.
Each a torch in his hand!

His friends beheld, and pitied him in vain,
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were

For what advice can ease a lover's pain?
slain,

Absence, the best expedient they could find,
And unburied remain
Inglorious on the plain ;

Might save the fortune, if not cure the mind :
Give the vengeance due

This means they long propos’d, but little gain's,
To the valiant crew :

Yet, after much pursuit, at length obtain'd.

Hard you may think it was to give consent,
Behold how they toss their torches on high!

But struggling with his own desires he went,
How they point to the Persian abodes,

With large expense, and with a pompous train,
And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods !

Provided as to visit France and Spain,
The Princes applaud, with a furious joy;

Or for some distant voyage o'er the main.
And the king seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;
Thais led the way,

But love had clipp'd his wings, and cut him short;

Confin'd within the purlieus of the court,
To light him to his prey,

Three miles he went, no farther could retreat;
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

His travels ended at his country-seat:
Thus long ago,

To Chassis' pleasing plains he took his way,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

There pitch'd his tents, and there resolv'd to stay.
While organs yet were mute,

The spring was in the prime; the neighbouring grove
Timotheus to his breathing Aute

Supplied with birds, the choristers of love:
And sounding lyre,

Music unbought, that minister's delight
Could gwell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by night:
At last divine Cecilia came,

There he discharg'd his friends, but not th' expense Inventress of the vocal frame;

Of frequent treats and proud magnificence.

867

He liv'd as kings retire, though more at large

He said, at once dismounting from the steed; From public business, yet with equal charge;

For now the hell-hounds with superior speed With house and heart still open to receive;

Had reach'd the dame, and, fastening on her side, As well content as love would give him leave :

The ground with issuing streams of purple dyed ; He would have lir'd more free; but many a guest, Stood Theodore surpris'd in deadly fright, Who could forsake the friend, pursu'd the feast. With chattering teeth, and bristling hair upright; It hapt one morning, as his fancy led,

Yet arm'd with inborn worth, Whatc'er, said he, Before his usual hour he left his bed;

Thou art, who know'st me better than I thee; To walk within a lonely lawn, that stood

Or prove thy rightful cause, or be defied; On every side surrounded by a wood :

The spectre, fiercely staring, thus replied: Alone he walk'd, to please his pensive mind,

Know, Theodore, thy ancestry I claim,
And sought the deepest solitude to find ;

And Guido Cavalcanti was my name.
'Twas in a grove of spreading pines he stray'd ;. One common sire our fathers did beget;
The winds within the quivering branches play'd, My name and story some remember yet:
And dancing trees a mournful music made.

Thee, then a boy, within my arms I laid,
The place itself was suiting to his care,

When for my sins I lov'd this haughty maid; Uncouth and savage, as the cruel fair.

Not less ador'd in life, nor serv'd by me, He wander'd on, unknowing where he went,

Than proud Honoria now is lov'd by thee. Lost in the wood, and all on love intent:

What did I not her stubborn heart to gain? The day already half his race had run,

But all my vows were answer'd with disdain : And summon'd him to due repast at noon,

She scorn'd my sorrows, and despis'd my pain. But love could feel no hunger but his own.

Long time I dragg'd my days in fruitless care ; Whilst listening to the murmuring leaves he stood, Then, loathing life, and plung'd in deep despair, More than a mile inmers'd within the wood,

To finish my unhappy life, I fell At once the wind was laid ; the whispering sound On this sharp sword, and now am damn'd in hell. Was dumb; a rising earthquake rock'd the ground; Short was her joy; for soon the insulting maid With deeper brown the grove was overspread; By heaven's decree in this cold grave was laid. A sudden horror seiz'd his giddy head.

And as in unrepented sin she died, And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled ;

Doom'd to the saine bad place is punish'd for her Nature was in alarm ; some danger nigh

pride; Seem'd threaten'd, though unseen to mortal eye. Because she deem'd I well deserv'd to die, Unus'd to fear, he summon'd all his soul,

And made a merit of her cruelty. And stood collected in himself, and whole;

There, then, we met; both tried, and both were cast, Not long : for soon a whirlwind rose around,

And this irrevocable sentence pass'd: And from afar he heard a screaming sound,

That she, whom I so long pursued in vain, As of a dame distress'd, who cried for aid,

Should suffer from my hands a lingering pain:

This pain: And fill'd with loud laments the secret shade. Renew'd to life, that she might daily die,

A thicket close beside the grove there stood, I daily doom'd to follow, she to fly;
With bricrs and brambles chok’d, and dwarfish wood; No more a lover, but a mortal foe,
From thence the noise, which now, approaching near, I seek her life (for love is none below):
With more distinguish'd notes invades his ear; As often as my dogs with better speed
He rais'd his head, and saw a beauteous maid, Arrest her flight, is she to death decreed :
With hair dishevell’d, issuing through the shade; Then with this fatal sword, on which I died,
Stripp'd of her clothes, and ev'n those parts reveal'

d I pierce her open back or tender side,
Which modest nature keeps from sight conceal’d. And tear that harden'd heart from out her breast,
Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn, Which, with her entrails, makes my hungry hounds a
With passing through the brakes and prickly thorn; feast.
Two mastiffs gaunt and grim her flight pursu'd, Nor lies she long, but, as her fates ordain,
And oft their fastened fangs in blood imbru’d: Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain,
Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender side; Is sav'd to-day, to-morrow to be slain.
Mercy, 0 mercy, heaven ! she ran, and cried ;

This, vers'd in death, th' infernal knight relates, When heaven was nam'd, they loos’d their hold And then for proof fulfill'd the common fates; again,

Her heart and bowels through her back he arew, Then sprang she forth, they follow'd her amain. And fed the hounds that help'd him to pursue; Not far behind, a knight of swarthy face,

Stern look'd the fiend, as frustrate of his will, High on a coal-black steed pursu'd the chase ; Not half suffic'd, and greedy yet to kill. With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd, And now the soul, expiring through the wound, And in his hand a naked sword he held:

Had left the body breathless on the ground, He cheer'd the dogs to follow her who fled,

When thus the grisly spectre spoke again : And vow'd revenge on her devoted head.

Behold the fruit of ill-rewarded pain : As Theodore was born of noble kind,

As many months as I sustain'd her hate, The brutal action rous'd his manly mind;

So many years is she condemn'd by fate Mov'd with unworthy usage of the maid,

To daily death; and every several place, He, though unarm’d, resolv'd to give her aid.

Conscious of her disdain and my disgrace, A sapling pine he wrench'd from out the ground, Must witness her just punishment, and be The readiest weapon that his fury found.

A scene of triumph and revenge to me! Thus furnish'd for offence, he cross'd the way

As in this grove I took my last farewell, Betwixt the graceless villain and his prey.

As on this very spot of earth I fell, The knight came thundering on, but, from afar, As Friday saw me die, so she my prey Thus in imperious tone forbade the war :

Becomes even here, on this revolving day. Cease, Theodore, to proffer vain relief,

Thus, while he spoke, the virgin from the ground Nor stop the vengeance of so just a grief;

Upstarted fresh, already clos'd the wound, But give me leave to seize my destin'd prey,

And unconcern'd for all she felt before, And let eternal justice take the way:

| Precipitates her flight along the shore : I but revenge my fate, disdain'd, betray'd,

The hell-bounds, as ungorg d with flesh and blood, And suffering death for this ungrateful maid. | Pursue their prey, and seek their wonted food:

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