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Time shall accomplish that; and I shall

see

A Palamon in him, in You an Emily. Already have the Fates your Path prepar'd, 40

And sure Presage your future Sway declar'd: When Westward, like the Sun, you took your Way,

And from benighted Britain bore the Day, Blue Triton gave the Signal from the Shore, The ready Nereids heard, and swam before To smooth the Seas; a soft Etesian Gale But just inspir'd, and gently swell'd the Sail; Portunus took his Turn, whose ample Hand) Heav'd up the lighten'd Keel, and sunk the Sand,

49 And steer'd the sacred Vessel safe to Land.) The Land, if not restrain'd, had met Your Way,

Projected out a Neck, and jutted to the Sea.
Hibernia, prostrate at your Feet, ador'd
In You the Pledge of her expected Lord;
Due to her Isle; a venerable Name;

His Father and his Grandsire known to
Fame;

Aw'd by that House, accustom'd to com-
mand,

The sturdy Kerns in due subjection stand,
Nor hear the Reins in any Foreign Hand.

At Your Approach, they crowded to the
Port;

60 And scarcely Landed, You create a Court: As Ormond's Harbinger, to You they run, For Venus is the Promise of the Sun.

The Waste of Civil Wars, their Towns destroy'd,

Pales unhonour'd, Ceres unemploy'd,

Were all forgot; and one Triumphant Day Wipd all the Tears of three Campaigns away. Blood, Rapines, Massacres, were cheaply bought, 68

Somighty Recompense Your Beauty brought. As when the Dove returning bore the Mark Of Earth restor'd to the long-lab'ring Ark, The Relicks of Mankind, secure of Rest, Op'd every Window to receive the Guest, And the fair Bearer of the Message bless'd ;) So, when You came,with loud repeated Cries,) The Nation took an Omen from your Eyes, And God advanc'd his Rainbow in the Skies, To sign inviolable Peace restor❜d;

The Saints with solemn Shouts proclaim'd the new accord.

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Nor dare we trust so soft a Messenger, New from her Sickness, to that Northern Air; Rest here a while, Your Lustre to restore, That they may see You, as You shone before; For yet, th' Eclipse not wholly past, You wade

Thro' some Remains and Dimness of a Shade. A Subject in his Prince may claim a Right, Nor suffer him with Strength impair'd to fight;

Till Force returns, his Ardour we restrain, And curb his Warlike Wish to cross the Main. Now past the Danger, let the Learn'd begin

III

Th' Enquiry, where Disease could enter in ; How those malignant Atoms forc'd their Way,

What in the Faultless Frame they found to make their Prey?

Where ev'ry Element was weigh'd so well, That Heav'n alone, who mix'd the Mass, could tell

Which of the Four Ingredients could rebel;)

And where, imprison'd in so sweet a Cage, A Soul might well be pleas'd to pass an Age. And yet the fine Materials made it weak ; Porcelain by being Pure, is apt to break. 121 Ev'n to Your Breast the Sickness durst

aspire,

And forc'd from that fair Temple to retire,
Profanely set the Holy Place on Fire.
In vain Your Lord, like young Vespasian,
mourn'd,

When the fierce Flames the Sanctuary burn'd,
And I prepar'd to pay in Verses rude
A most detested Act of Gratitude:
Ev'n this had been Your Elegy, which now
Is offer'd for Your Health, the Table of my
Vow.
130

Your Angel sure our Morley's Mind in-
spir'd,

To find the Remedy Your Ill requir'd;
As once the Macedon, by Jove's Decree,
Was taught to dream an Herb for Ptolomee:
Or Heav'n, which had such Over-cost
bestow'd

As scarce it could afford to Flesh and
Blood,

So lik'd the Frame, he would not work anew, To save the Charges of another You. Or by his middle Science did he steer, And saw some great contingent Good appear, 140

Well worth a Miracle to keep You here, And for that End preserv'd the precious Mould,

Which all the Future Ormonds was to hold;

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151 The diff'ring Titles of the Red and White; Who Heav'ns alternate Beauty well display, The Blush of Morning, and the Milky Way; Whose Face is Paradise, but fenc'd from Sin: For God in either Eye has placed a Cherubin.

All is Your Lord's alone; ev'n absent, He Employs the Care of Chast Penelope. For him You waste in Tears Your Widow'd Hours,

For him Your curious Needle paints the Flow'rs; 160

Such Works of Old Imperial Dames were taught,

Such for Ascanius, fair Elisa wrought.

The soft Recesses of Your Hours improve The Three fair Pledges of Your Happy Love: All other Parts of Pious Duty done, You owe Your Ormond nothing but a son, To fill in future Times his Father's Place, And wear the Garter of his Mother's Race,

145 who] Derrick and editors till Christie wrongly give which

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IN Days of old, there liv'd, of mighty Fame
A valiant Prince; and Theseus was his Name:
A Chief, who more in Feats of Arms excell'd
The Rising nor the Setting Sun beheld.
Of Athens he was Lord; much Land he won,
And added Foreign Countrys to his Crown.
InScythia with the WarriourQueen he strove,
Whom first by Force he conquer'd, then by
Love;

He brought in Triumph back the beauteous
Dame,

With whom her Sister, fair Emilia, came. 10 With Honour to his Home let Theseus ride,) With Love to Friend, and Fortune for his Guide,

And his victorious Army at his Side.

I pass their warlike Pomp, their proud Array, Their Shouts, their Songs, their Welcome on the Way:

But, were it not too long, I would recite
The Feats of Amazons, the fatal Fight
Betwixt the hardy Queen and Heroe Knight.
The Town besieg'd, and how much Blood it

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The Field is spacious I design to sow,
With Oxen far unfit to draw the Plow:
The Remnant of my Tale is of a length
To tire your Patience, and to waste my
Strength;

And trivial Accidents shall be forborn,
That_others may have time to take their
Turn;
30

As was at first enjoin'd us by mine Host: That he whose Tale is best, and pleases most,

}

Should win his Supper at our common Cost.
And therefore where I left, I will pursue
This ancient Story, whether false or true,
In hope it may be mended with a new.
The Prince I mention'd, full of high Renown,
In this Array drew near th' Athenian Town;
When, in his Pomp and utmost of his Pride,
Marching, he chanc'd to cast his Eye aside,
And saw a Quire of mourning Dames, who
lay

41

By Two and Two across the common Way: At his Approach they rais'd a rueful Cry, And beat their Breasts, and held their Hands on high,

Creeping and crying, till they seiz'd at last His Coursers Bridle and his Feet embrac'd. Tell me, said Theseus, what and whence you are,

And why this Funeral Pageant you prepare ? Is this the Welcome of my worthy Deeds, 49 To meet my Triumph in Ill-omen'd Weeds? Or envy you my Praise, and would destroy With Grief my Pleasures, and pollute my Joy? Or are you injur'd, and demand Relief? Name your Request, and I will ease your Grief.

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We wretched Women sue for that alone,
Which of thy Goodness is refus'd to none:
Let fall some Drops of Pity on our Grief,
If what we beg be just, and we deserve
Relief:

For none of us, who now thy Grace implore, But held the Rank of Sovereign Queen before;

Till, thanks to giddy Chance, which never bears

That Mortal Bliss should last for length of
Years,

She cast us headlong from our high Estate,¦
And here in hope of thy Return we wait: 70
And long have waited in the Temple nigh,
Built to the gracious Goddess Clemency.
But rev'rence thou the Pow'r whose Name it
bears,

Relieve th' Oppressed, and wipe the Widows
Tears.

I, wretched I, have other Fortune seen,
The Wife of Capaneus, and once a Queen :
At Thebes he fell; curs'd be the fatal Day!
And all the rest thou seest in this Array,
To make their Moan their Lords in Battel lost,
Before that Town besieg'd by our Confed'rate
Host:
So

But Creon, old and impious, who commands
The Theban City, and usurps the Lands,
Denies the Rites of Fun'ral Fires to those
Whose breathless Bodies yet he calls his
Foes.

Unburn'd, unbury'd, on a Heap they lie ; Such is their Fate, and such his Tyranny; No Friend has leave to bear away the Dead, But with their Lifeless Limbs his Hounds are fed.

At this she shriek'd aloud, the mournful Train

Echo'd her Grief, and grov❜ling on the Plain,

56 sounded] i, e. swoon'd The form is genuine and was used by Goldsmith. Many editors wrongly give swooned and Christie gives swounded

89 shriek'd] skriek'd 1700.

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And what e'er else to Chivalry belongs,
He would not cease, till he reveng'd their
Wrongs:

That Greece should see perform'd what he declar'd,

And cruel Creon find his just Reward.
He said no more, but shunning all Delay
Rode on; nor enter'd Athens on his Way;
But left his Sister and his Queen behind,
And wav'd his Royal Banner in the Wind:
Where in an Argent Field the God of War
Was drawn triumphant on his Iron Carr;
Red was his Sword, and Shield, and whole
Attire,

III

And all the Godhead seem'd to glow with Fire;

Ev'n the Ground glitter'd where the Standard flew,

And the green Grass was dy'd to sanguine Hue.

High on his pointed Lance his Pennon bore
His Cretan Fight, the conquer'd Minotaure:
The Soldiers shout around with generous
Rage,

And in that Victory, their own presage.
He prais'd their Ardour, inly pleas'd to see
His Host, the Flow'r of Grecian Chivalry, 120
All Day he march'd; and all th' ensuing
Night;

And saw the City with returning Light.
The Process of the War I need not tell,
How Theseus conquer'd, and how Creon fell:
Or after, how by Storm the Walls were won,
Or how the Victor sack'd and burn'd the
Town;

How to the Ladies he restor❜d again
The Bodies of their Lords in Battel slain;

103 he] de 1700: a misprint.

And with what ancient Rites they were interr'd;

All these to fitter time shall be deferr'd: 130 I spare the Widows Tears, their woful Cries, And Howling at their Husbands Obsequies; How Theseus at these Fun'rals did assist, And with what Gifts the mourning Dames dismiss'd.

Thus when the Victor Chief had Creon slain,

And conquer'd Thebes, he pitch'd upon the Plain

His mighty Camp, and when the return'd,

Day

The Country wasted and the Hamlets burn'd; And left the Pillagers, to Rapine bred, Without Controul to strip and spoil the Dead. 140 There, in a Heap of Slain, among the rest Two youthful Knights they found beneath a Load oppress'd

Of slaughter'd Foes, whom first to Death they sent,

The Trophies of their Strength, a bloody Monument.

Both fair, and both of Royal Blood they seem'd,

Whom Kinsmen to the Crown the Heralds deem'd ;

That Day in equal Arms they fought for Fame;

Their Swords, their Shields, their Surcoats were the same.

Close by each other laid they press'd the Ground,

Their manly Bosoms pierc'd with many a griesly Wound; 150

Nor well alive nor wholly dead they were, But some faint Signs of feeble Life appear: The wandring Breath was on the Wing to part,

Weak was the Pulse, and hardly heav'd the Heart.

These two were Sisters Sons; and Arcite one, Much fam'd in Fields, with valiant Palamon. From These their costly Arms the Spoilers rent,

And softly both convey'd to Theseus Tent: Whom, known of Creon's Line and cur'd with Care, 159 He to his City sent as Pris'ners of the War, Hopeless of Ransom, and condemn'd to lie In Durance, doom'd a lingring Death to die.

This done,he march'd away with warlike Sound,

And to his Athens turn'd with Laurels crown'd,

Where happy long he liv'd, much lov'd, and more renown'd.

But in a Tow'r, and never to be loos'd.
The woful captive Kinsmen are enclos'd.
Thus Year by Year they pass, and Day by
Day,

Till once ('twas on the Morn of chearful May)
The young Emilia, fairer to be seen 170
Than the fair Lilly on the Flow'ry Green,
More fresh than May her self in Blossoms

new,

(For with the rosie Colour strove her Hue) Wak'd, as her Custom was, before the Day, To do th' Observance due to sprightly May: For sprightly May commands our Youth to keep

The Vigils of her Night, and breaks their sluggard Sleep:

Each gentle Breast with kindly Warmth she

moves;

Inspires new Flames, revives extinguish'd Loves.

180

In this Remembrance Emily e'er day
Arose, and dress'd her self in rich Array;
Fresh as the Month, and as the Morning
fair:

Adown her Shoulders fell her Length of
Hair:

A Ribband did the braided Tresses bind,
The rest was loose, and wanton'd in the
Wind:

Aurora had but newly chas'd the Night,
And purpl'd o'er theSky with blushing Light,
When to the Garden-walkshe took her way,
To sport and trip along in Cool of Day,
And offer Maiden Vows in Honour of the
May.

190

At ev'ry Turn she made a little Stand, And thrust among the Thorns her Lilly hand To draw the Rose; and ev'ry Rose she drew, She shook the Stalk, and brush'd away the

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