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Since then our Arcite is with honour dead,
Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed,
Or call untimely what the gods decreed?
With grief as just, a friend may be deplored,
From a foul prison to free air restored.
Ought he to thank his kinsman, or his wife,
Could tears recall him into wretched life?
Their sorrow hurts themselves; on him is lost;
And worse than both, offends his happy ghost.
What then remains, but after past annoy,
To take the good vicissitude of joy;

To thank the gracious gods for what they give;
Possess our souls, and while we live, to live?
Ordain we then two sorrows to combine,
And in one point the extremes of grief to join,
That, thence resulting, joy may be renew'd,
As jarring notes in harmony conclude.
Then I propose, that Palamon shall be
In marriage join'd with beauteous Emily;
For which already I have gain'd the assent
Of my free people in full parliament.

Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,
And well deserved, had fortune done him right:
"Tis time to mend her fault; since Emily
By Arcite's death from former vows is free.
If you, fair sister, ratify the accord,

And take him for your husband and your lord,
"Tis no dishonour to confer your grace
On one descended from a royal race:
And were he less, yet years of service past
From grateful souls exact reward at last :
Pity is heaven's and yours; nor can she find
A throne so soft as in a woman's mind.'

He said; she blush'd; and as o'erawed by might, Seem'd to give Theseus what she gave the knight. Then turning to the Theban, thus he said: 'Small arguments are needful to persuade Your temper to comply with my command ;' And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand. Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight Obtain the conquest, though he lost the fight, And bless'd with nuptial bliss the sweet laborious night.

Eros and Anteros, on either side,

Oue fired the bridegroom, and one warm'd the

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And long-attending Hymen from above

Shower'd on the bed the whole Idalian grove.
All of a tenor was their after-life;

No day discolour'd with domestic strife;
No jealousy, but mutual truth believed,
Secure repose, and kindness undeceived.
Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought,
Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought.

So may the queen of Love long duty bless,
And all true lovers find the same success!

SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO,

FROM

BOCCACE.

WHILE Norman Tancred in Salerno reign'd,
The title of a gracious prince he gain'd;
Till turn'd a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise;
And from the bright meridian where he stood,
Descending, dipp'd his hands in lovers' blood.

This prince, of fortune's favour long possess'd,
Yet was with one fair daughter only bless'd;
And bless'd he might have been with her alone:
But O! how much more happy, had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She lived by him, and now he lived in her.
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delay'd
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid;
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency required,
And all his vassals eagerly desired,

With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will, than gave his own consent:
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made, almost in his despite, a bride.
Short were her marriage joys; for in the prime
Of youth, her lord expired before his time;
And to her father's court, in little space
Restored anew, she held a higher place;
More loved, and more exalted into grace.
This princess, fresh, and young, and fair, and wise,
The worship'd idol of her father's eyes,

Did all her sex in every grace exceed,

And had more wit beside than women need.
Youth, health, and ease, and most an amorous
mind,

To second nuptials had her thoughts inclined;
And former joys had left a secret sting behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,

Her sire left unsupplied her only want;
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would hide.
Resolved at last to lose no longer time,

And yet to please herself without a crime,
She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.
Among the train of courtiers, one she found
With all the gifts of bounteous nature crown'd;
Of gentle blood, but one whose niggard fate
Had set him far below her high estate :
Guiscard his name was call'd, of blooming age,
Now squire to Tancred, and before, his page:

To him, the choice of all the shining crowd,
Her heart the noble Sigismonda vow'd.

Yet hitherto she kept her love conceal'd, And with close graces every day beheld The graceful youth; and every day increased The raging fire that burn'd within her breast; Some secret charm did all his acts attend, And what his fortune wanted, hers could mend : Till, as the fire will force its outward way, Or, in the prison pent, consume the prey, So long her earnest eyes on him were set, At length their twisted rays together met; And he, surprised, with humble joy survey'd One sweet regard, shot by the royal maid: Not well assured, while doubtful hopes he nursed, A second glance came gliding like the first; And he, who saw the sharpness of the dart, Without defence received it in his heart. In public though their passion wanted speech, Yet mutual looks interpreted for each: Time, ways, and means of meeting were denied ; But all those wants ingenious love supplied. The inventive god, who never fails his part, Inspires the wit, when once he warms the heart. When Guiscard next was in the circle seen, Where Sigismonda held the place of queen, A hollow cane within her hand she brought, But in the concave had enclosed a note: With this she seem'd to play, and, as in sport, Toss'd to her love, in presence of the court: 'Take it,' she said, and when your needs require, This little brand will serve to light your fire.' He took it with a bow, and soon divined The seeming toy was not for naught design'd:

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