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She fees his hoary head, all' white with age,
A victim to th' offended monarch's rage.
How great the mercy, had the breath'd her last
Ere the dire fentence on her father pafs'd!
A fonder parent nature never knew,
And as his age increas'd his fondnefs grew.
A parent's love ne'er better was bestow'd ;
The pious daughter in her heart o'erflow'd..
And can fhe from all weakness still refrain,
And still the firmness of her foul maintain?
Impoffible! a figh will force it's way;

One patient tear her mortal birth betray :!
She fighs and weeps! but fo fhe weeps and fighs,
As filent dews defcend, and vapours rife.

Celestial Patience! how doft thou defeat
The foe's proud menace, and elude his hate!
While Paffion takes his part, betrays our peace,
To death and torture fwells each flight difgrace;
By not oppofing thou doft ills destroy,
And wear thy conquer'd forrows into joy

Now the revolves within her anxious mind
What woe ftill lingers in referve behind:

Griefs rife on griefs, and she can see no bound,

While nature lafts, and can receive a wound.

"The fword is drawn'; the queen to rage inclin'd,

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By mercy, nor by piety cónfin'd:

• What mercy can the zealot's heart affuage,

Whose piety itself converts to rage?'

She thought, and figh'd; and now the blood began

To leave her beauteous cheek all cold and wan:

New forrow dimm'd the luftre of her eye,

And on her cheek the fading rofes die...

Alas! fhould Guilford too-' When now fhe's brought
To that dire view, that precipice of thought;

While there she trembling ftands, nor dares look down,
Nor can recede, till Heav'n's decrees are known,

Cure

Cure of all ills, till now, her lord appears
But not to chear her heart, and dry her tears!
Not now, as ufual, like the rifing day,
To chase the shadows and the damps away;
But, like a gloomy ftorm, at once to fweep
And plunge her to the bottom of the deep.
Black were his robes, dejected was his air,
His voice was frozen by his cold despairs
Slow, like a ghoft, he mov'd with folemn pace;
A dying palenefs fat upon his face.

Back she recoil'd, fhe fmote her lovely breaft,
Her eyes the anguifh, of her heart confefs'd;
Struck to the foul, fhe stagger'd with the wound,
And funk, a breathless image, to the ground.

Thus the fair lily, when the sky's o'erçaft,
At first but fhudders in the feeble blast;
But when the winds and weighty rains defcend,"
The fair and upright ftem is forc'd to bend,
Till broke, at length, it's fnowy leaves are shed,
And ftrew with dying fweets their native bed.

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BOOK II.

Hic pietatis honos? fic nos in fceptra reponis?

ER Guilford clafps her, beautiful in death,
And with a kifs recalls her fleeting breath.

To tapers thus, which by a blaft expire,
A lighted taper, touch'd, reftores the fire.
She rear'd her swimming eye, and saw the light;
And Guilford, too, or she had loath'd the fight.
Her father's death fhe bore, defpis'd her own,
But now he muft, fhe will have leave to groan.
Ah, Guilford!' fhe began, and would have fpoke,
But fobs rufh'd in, and ev'ry accent broke:

312

VIRG.

Reafon

Reafon itself, as gufts of paffion blew,
Was ruffled in the tempeft, and withdrew.

So the youth loft his image in the well,
When tears upon the yielding furface fell;
The scatter'd features flid into decay,
And fpreading circles drove his face away.

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To touch the foft affections, and controut
The manly temper of the bravest soul,
What with afflicted beauty can compare,
And drops of love diftilling from the fair?
It melts us down; our pains delight beftow,
And we with fondness languish o'er our woe.
This Guilford prov'd; and, with excess of pain,
And pleasure too, did to his bofom strain

The weeping fair; funk deep in foft defire,
Indulg'd his love, and nurs'd the raging fire:
Then tore himself away; and, standing wide,.
As fearing a relapse of fondness, cry'd,

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With ill-diffembled grief, My life, forbear!

• You wound your Guilford with each cruel tear? • Did you not chide my grief? repress your own, Nor want compaffion for yourself alone.

• Have

you

beheld how, from the distant main, The thronging waves roll on, a num'rous train, And foam, and bellow, till they reach the shore, There burft their noify pride, and are no more? • Thus the fucceffive flows of human race,

Chac'd by the coming, the preceding chace;

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• They found and fwell, their haughty heads they rear, Then fall and flatten, break and disappear.

• Life is a forfeit we muft fhortly pay,

And where's the mighty lucre of a day?"

• Why should you mourn my fate? 'tis most unkind ;

• Your own you bore with an unshaken mind:

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And which, can you imagine, was the dart

That drank most blood, funk deepest in my heart?

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< I can

I cannot live without you; and my doom
I meet with joy, to fhare one common tomb.-.
And are, again, your tears profufely spilt ?
Oh! then my kindness blackens to my guilt;
• It foils itself if it recall your pain:-
• Life of my life! I beg you to refrain !
The load which Fate impofes you increase,
And help Maria to destroy my peace!"

But, oh! against himself his labour turn'd;
The more he comforted, the more the mourn'd.
Compaffion fwells our grief; words foft and kind
But foothe our weakness, and diffolve the mind.
Her forrow flow'd in ftreams: nor her's alone;
While that he blam'd, he yielded to his own.
Where are the fmiles fhe wore when she, fo late,
Hail'd him great partner of the regal state;
When orient gems around her temples blaz❜d,
And bending nations on the glory gaz'd?

'Tis now the queen's command they both retreat, Το weep with dignity, and mourn in state:

She forms the decent misery with joy,

And loads with pomp the wretch she would destroy.
A fpacious hall is hung with black; all light
Shut out, and noon-day darken'd into night:
From the mid-roof a lamp depends on high,
Like a dim crescent in a clouded sky;
It sheds a quiv'ring, melancholy gloom,
Which only fhews the darkness of the room.
A fhining axe is on the table laid,

A dreadful fight! and glitters thro' the shade.
In this fad fcene the lovers are confin'd,

A scene of terrors to a guilty mind!

A fcene that would have damp'd with rifing cares,
And quite extinguish'd every love but theirs.
What can they do? they fix their mournful eyes→→→→
Then Guilford thus, abruptly: I defpife

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An empire loft; I fling away the crown;

• Numbers have laid that bright delufion down;
But where's the Charles, or Dioclesian where,
Could quit the blooming, wedded, weeping fair?
Oh! to dwell ever on thy lip! to ftand
In full poffeffion of thy fnowy hand!
And, thro' th' unclouded cryftal of thy eye,
The heav'nly treafures of thy mind to fpy!
Till rapture reafon happily deftroys,

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And my foul wanders thro' immortal joys!

Give me the world, and ask me where's my blifs;

I clafp thee to my breaft, and anfwer, "This.”

And shall the grave-' He groans, and can no more,
But all her charms in filence traces o'er :

Her lip, her cheek, and eye, to wonder wrought;
And, wond'ring, fees, in fad prefaging thought,
From that fair neck, that world of beauty, fall,
And roll along the duft, a ghaftly ball!

Oh! let thofe tremble who are greatly blefs'd;
For who but Guilford could be thus diftrefs'd?
Come hither, all you happy, all you great!
From flow'ry meadows, and from rooms of state;
Nor think I call your pleasures to destroy,
But to refine, and to exalt your joy:

Weep not; but, fmiling, fix your ardent care
On nobler titles than the brave or fair.

Was ever fuch a mournful, moving fight!.
See, if you can, by that dim, trembling light.
Now they embrace; and, mix'd with bitter woe,
Like Ifis and her Thames, one fream they flow:
Now they start wide; fix'd in benumbing care,
They stiffen into ftatues of defpair.
Now, tenderly fevere, and fiercely kind,

They rush at once; they fling their cares behind,
And clafp, as if to death; new vows repeat,
And, quite wrapp'd up in love, forget their fate.

A short

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