O the foft delicious view,
Ever charming, ever new!
Greens of various fhades arise,
Deck'd with flow'rs of various dyes; Paths by meeting paths are croft, Alleys in winding alleys loft;
† An opening fcene difcovers another view of the bower.
Her heart with rage and fondness glows,
That confcious fcene of love contains The fatal caufe of all your pains:
In yonder flow'ry vale fhe lies,
Where those fair-blossom'd arbours rise.
Let us hafte to destroy Her guilt and her joy 1
Wild and frantic is my grief!
Fury driving,
Mercy striving,
Heaven in pity send relief!
The pangs of love Ye pow'rs remove,
That great, that charming man you fee: Think on yourself, and pity met Queen. And doft thou thus thy guilt deplore!
[Offering the dagger to her breaft. Presumptuous woman! plead no more! Rofamond.
O Queen, your lifted arm restrain! Behold these tears!
-They-flow in vain. Rofamond.
Look with compaffion on my fate! O hear my fighs!
Queen. They rife too late.
Hope not a day's, an hour's reprieve. Rofamond
Though I live wretched, let me live. In fome deep dungeon let me lie, Cover'd from every human eye, Banish'd the day, debarr'd the light; Where fhades of everlasting night May this unhappy face difarm, And cafl a veil o'er ev'ry charm Offended heaven I'll there adore, Nor fee the fun, nor Henry more. Queen. Moving language, fhining tears, Glowing guilt, and graceful fears, Kindling pity, kindling rage, At once provoke me, and affuage. Rofamond.
What fhall I do to pacify Your kindled vengeance!
Thou shalt die. [Offering the dagger.
[Afide. Ye powers, how pity rends my foul!
This proftrate at your feet I fall,
O let me ftill for mercy call! [Falling on her knees. Accept, great queen, like injur'd heav'n,
The foul that begs to be forgiv'n :
If in the latest gafp of breath,
If in the dreadful pains of death,
When the cold damp bedews your brow You hope for mercy, fhow it now. Queen.
Mercy to lighter crimes is due, Horrors and death shall thine pursue.
Thus I prevent the fatal blow, -Whither, ah! whither fhall I go !
In hours of peace, unfeen, unknown, I hover o'er the British throne. 2 Angel.
When hofts of foes with foes engage, And round th' anointed hero rage, The cleaving falchion I misguide, And turn the feather'd fhaft afide.
I Angel. When dark fermenting tactions fwell, And promp th' ambitious to rebel, A thousand terrors I impart,
And damp the furious traitor's heart. Both.
But oh what influence can remove The pangs of grief, and rage of love! 2 Angel. I'll fire his foul with mighty themes, 'Till love before ambition fly. I Angel. I'll footh his cares in pleating dreams, 'Till grief in joyful raptures die. 2 Angel. Whatever glorious and renown'd In British annals can be found Whatever actions fhall adorn Britannia's heroes yet unborn, In dreadful visions fhall fucceed; On fancy'd fields the Gaul fhall bleed, Creffy shall stand before his eyes, And Agincourt and Blenheim rife, I Angel.
See, fee, he fmiles amidst his trance, And shakes a vifionary lance!
His brain is fill'd with loud alarms: Shouting armies, clashing arms,
To calm thy grief, and lull thy cares, Look up and fee
What, after long revolving years, Thy bower fhall be!
When time its beauties fhall deface, And only with its ruins grace The future profpect of the place.
Behold the glorious pile afcending! Columns fwelling, arches bending, Domes in awful pomp arifing, Art in curious ftrokes furprifing, Foes in figur'd fights contending, Behold the glorious pile afcending! 2 Angel.
He fees, he fees the great reward For Anna's mighty chief prepar'd: His growing joys no measure keep, Too vehement and fierce her fleep. λ Angel.
Let grief and love at once engage, His heart is proof to all their pain; Love may plead
And grief may rage- Both.
Bat both fhall plead and rage in vain.
[The Angels afcend, and the vision disappears. Henry, farting from the couch.
Where have my ravish'd fenfes been ! What joys, what wonders, have I seen! The scene yet ftands before my eye, A thousand glorious deeds that lie In deep futurity obfcure, Fights and triumphs immature,
Heroes immers'd in time's dark womb, Ripening for mighty years to come, Break forth, and, to the day difplay'd, My foft inglorious hours upbraid. Transported with so bright a scheme, My waking life appears a dream. Adieu ye wanton fhades and bow'rs, Wreath of myrtle, beds of flow'rs. Rofy brakes,
Silver lakes, To love and you A long adieu !
O Rofamond! O rifing woe!
Why do my weeping eyes o'erflow?
O Rofamond! O fair diftress'd,
How fhall my heart, with grief opprefs'd,
Its unrelenting purpose tell;
And take the long, the laft farewell! Rife, glory, rife in all thy charms, Thy waving crest, and burnish'd arms;
* Scene changes to the plan of Blenheim caâle.
Every star and every pow'r,
Look down on this important hour: Lend your protection and defence, Every guard of innocence !
Help me my Henry to affuage, To gain his love, or bear his rage.
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, Haft thou more of pain or pleasure? Chill'd with tears, Kill'd with fears,
Endless torments dwell about thee:
Yet who would live, and live without thee?
But oh the fight my foul alarms:
My lord appears, I'm all on fire! Why am I banish'd from his arms? My heart's too full, I must retire.
Retires to the end of the flage.
SCENE III,
King and Queen. King
Some dreadful birth of fate is near, Or why, my foul, unus'd to fear, With fecret horror doft thou shake? Can dreams fuch dire impreffions make? What means thus folemn filent fhow? This pomp of death, this scene of woe! Support me, heav'n! what's this I read? O horror! Rofamond is dead. What fhall I fay, or whither turn? With grief, and rage, and love, I burn : From thought to thought my foul is tost, And in the whirl of paffion loft. Why did I not in battle fall, Crush'd by the thunder of the Gaul! Why did the fpear my bofom mifs? Ye pow'rs, was I referv'd for this! Diftracted with woe
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