¿Yet, Yet, free from guilt, I found fome happier charm "To vanquish luft, and wildest rage difarm.

But ah the greatest labour's yet behind; "No tears can soften this obdurate mind; "No prayers inexorable pity move, "Or guard me from the worst of ruins, love:

Though fleep and wine allow this kind reprieve, "Yet to the youth they'll ftrength and sury give; "Then, wretched maid! then think what artifice, "What charm, fhall refcue from his nerv'd em " brace!

"When with fupplies of vigour next he ftorms, "And every dictate of his luft performs.

"But you, bleft power, that own a virgin's

name,

Protect my virtue, and defend my fame, "From powerful luft, and the reproach of "Thame;

If I a strict religious life have led, "Drunk the cold ftream, and made the earth my "bed!

"If from the world a chafte reclufe I live, "Redress my wrongs, and generous fuccour give; "Allay this raging tempeft of my mind, "A virgin fhould be to a virgin kind:

Proftrate with tears from you I beg defence, "Or take my life, or guard my innocence." While thus the afflicted beauty pray'd, fhe spy'd A fatal dagger by Amalis' fide?

"This weapon's mine!" fhe cries," then grafp'd "it fast)

"And now the lustful tyrant fleeps his lift." With eager hand the pointed steel she draws, Ev'n murder pleases in so just a cause; Nor fears, nor dangers, now refistance make, Since honour, life, and dearer fame, 's at stake. Yet in her breaft does kind compaffion plead, And fills her foul with horror of the deed; Her fex's tenderness refumes its place, And spreads in confcious blufhes o'er her face. Now, ftung with the remorse of guilt, the cries, δι Ah, frantic girl, what wild attempt is this! "Think, think, Theutilla, on the murderer's "doom,

"And tremble at a punishment to come: "Stain not thy virgin hands with guilty blood, * And dread to be fo criminally good. "Lay both thy courage and thy weapon down, "Nor fly to aids a maid must blush to own; "Nor arms, nor valour, with thy fex agree, "They wound thy fame, and taint thy modefty."

Thus different paffions combat in her mind, Oft fhe's to pity, oft to rage inclin’d: Now from her hand the hated weapon's caft, Then feiz'd again with more impetuous hafte: Unfix'd her wifhes, her refolves are vain, What she attempts, fhe ftraight rejects again; Her looks, the emblems of her thoughts, appear Vary'd with rage, with pity, and defpair: Alone her fears incline to no extreme, Equally pois'd betwixt revenge and shame. At length, with more prevailing rage poffeft, Her jealous honour steels her daring breaft: The thoughts of injur'd fame new courage gave, And nicer virtue now confirms her brave.

[down,

| Then the fam'd Judith her whole mind employs, Urges her hand, and fooths the fatal choice: This great example pleas'd, inflam'd by this, With wild diforder to the youth fhe flies; One hand the wreaths within his flowing hair, The other does the ready weapon bear : "Now guide me (cries) fair Hebrew, now look "And pity labours thou haft undergone. "Direct the hand that takes thy path to fame, "And be propitious to a virgin's name, "Whofe glory's but a refuge from her fhame!" Thus rais'd by hopes, and arm'd with courage now; She with undaunted looks directs the blow: Deep in his breast the spacious wound the made, And to his heart dispatch'd th' unerring blade.

When their expiring lord the fervants heard, Whofe dying groans the fatal act declar'd, Like a fierce torrent, with no bounds they're ftay'di̟ But vent their rage on the defenceless maid : Not virtue, youth, nor beauty in diftrefs, Can move their favage breafts to tenderness: But death with horrid torments they prepare, And to her fate th' undaunted virgin bear. Tortures and death feem lovely in her eyes, Since the to honour falls a facrifice: Amidst her sufferings, ftill her mind is great, And, free from guilt, fhe triumphs o'er her fate.

But heaven, that's fuffering virtue's fure reward;
Exerts its power, and is itself her guard:
Amalis, confcious of his black offence,

Now feels remorfe for her wrong'd innocence;
Though now he's struggling in the pangs of death,
And all life's purple stream is ebbing forth :
Yet, railing up his pale and drooping head,
He recollects his fpirits as they fled,

And, with his laft remains of voice, he faid,
"Spare the chafte maid, your impious hands re-
"strain,

"Nor beauty with fuch infolence prophane : "Learn by my fate wrong'd innocence to fpare, "Since injur'd virtue's heaven's peculiar care."

But you, brave virgin, now fhall ftand enrol'd Amongst the nobleft heroines of old: Thy fam'd attempt, and celebrated hand, Shall lasting trophies of thy glory ftand; And, if my verfe the juft reward can give, Theutilla's name fhall to new ages live. For to thy fex thou haft new honours won, And France now boasts a Judith of its owne

AN ODE

FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1693.

BEGIN, and strike th' harmonious lyre!
Let the loud inftruments prepare
To raise our fouls, and charm the ear,
With joys which mufic only can inspire:
Hark how the willing ftrings obey!
To confecrate this happy day,
Sacred to mufic, love, and bleft Cecilia.
In lofty numbers, tuneful lays,
We'll celebrate the virgin's praise;
3 B iiij

і

Her skilful hand firft taught our ftrings to move,

To her this facred art we owe,

Who first anticipated heaven below, And play'd the hymns on earth, that the now fings above.

What moving charms each tuneful voice contains,
Charms that through the willing ear
A tide of pleasing raptures bear, [veins.
And, with diffufive joys, run thrilling through our
The liftening foul does fympathize,
And with each vary'd note complies:
While gay and sprightly airs delight,
Then free from cares, and unconfin'd,

It takes, in pleafing ecftafies, its flight.

With mournful founds, a fadder garb it wears,
Indulges grief, and gives a loose to tears.

Mufic's the language of the blest above,
No voice but mufic's can exprefs
The joys that happy fouls poffefs,

[love.

Nor in juft raptures tell the wondrous power of 'Tis nature's dialect, defign'd

To charm, and to inftruct the mind.
Mufic's an universal good!

That does difpenfe its joys around,
In all the elegance of found,

To be by men admir'd, by angels understood.

Let every reflefs paffion ceafe to move!
And each tumultuous thought obey
The happy influence of this day,
For mufic's unity and love.
Mufic's the foft indulger of the mind,

The kind diverter of our care,
The fureft refuge mournful grief can find;
A cordial to the breaft, and charm to every ear.
Thus, when the prophet ftruck his tunefullyre,
Saul's evil genius did retire:
In vain were remedies apply'd,
In vain all other arts were try'd:

His hand and voice alone the charm could find,
To heal his body, and compofe his mind.

Now let the trumpet's louder voice proclaim
A folemn jubilee :

For ever facred let it be,

To fkilful Jubal's, and Cecila's name.

Great Jubal, author of our lays,
Who first the hidden charms of mufic found;

And through their airy paths did trace
The fecret fprings of found.
When from his hollow chorded shell
The foft melodious accents fell,

With wonder and delight he play'd, [bey'd. While the harmonious strings his skilful hand o

But fair Cecilia to a pitch divine

Improv'd her artful lays :

When to the organ fhe her voice did join,
In the Almighty's praise;

Then choirs of liftening angels food around,
Admir'd her art, and bleft the heavenly found.

Her praise alone no tongue can reach,
But in the strains herself did teach:
Then let the voice and lyre combine,
And in a tuneful concert join;

For mufic's her reward and èarë, Above fh' enjoys it, and protects it here

GRAND CHORUS.

Then kindly treat this happy day,

And grateful honours to Cecilia pay:

To her that tunes our ftrings, and still inspires To her thefe lov'd harmonious rites belong our fong.

THE FORCE OF JEALOUSY.

To a Lady asking if her Sex was as fenfible of that Paffion as Man.

AN ALLUSION TO

"O! quam cruentus Fœminas ftimulat Dolor!" SENECA, Hercules Oetæus.

WHAT raging thoughts transport the woman's breast,

That is with love and jealousy poffeft!

More with revenge, than foft defires fhe burns, Whofe flighted paffion meets no kind returns ; That courts the youth with long neglected charms,

And finds her rival happy in his arms!

Dread Scylla's rocks 'tis fafer to engage, And trust a storm, than her deftructive rage: Not waves, contending with a boisterous wind, Threaten fo loud, as her tempeftuous mind: For feas grow calm, and raging storms abate, But noft implacable's a woman's hate : Tigers and favages lefs wild appear, Than that fond wretch abandon'd to defpair.

Such were the transports Dejanira felt,
Stung with a rival's charms, and husband's guilt :
With fuch defpair fhe view'd the captive maid,
Whofe fatal love her Hercules betray'd;
Th' unchafte löle, but divinely fair!
In love triumphant, though a flave in war;
By nature lewd, and form'd for soft delight,
Gay as the fpring, and fair as beams of light;
Whofe blooming youth would wildest rage difarm,
And every eye, but a fierce rival's, charm.

Fix'd with her grief the royal matron ftood,
When the fair captive in his arms fhe view'd:
With what regret her beauties fhe furvey'd,
And curft the power of the too lovely maid,
That reap'd the joys of her abandon'd bed!
Her furious looks with wild diforder glow,
Looks that her envy and refentment fhow!
To blaft that fair detefted form the tries,
And lightning darts from her distorted eyes.

Then o'er the palace of falfe Hercules,
With clamour and impetuous rage fhe flies;
Late a dear witness of their mutual flame.
But now th' unhappy object of her shame;
Whofe confcious roof can yield her no relief,
But with polluted joys upbraids her grief.

Nor can the spacious court contain her now;
It grows a scene too narrow for her woe.
Loofe and undreft all day fhe ftrays alone,
Does her abode and lov'd companions fhun.
In woods complains, and fighs in every grove,
The mournful tale of her forfaken love,

Her thoughts to all th' extremes of frenzy fly,
Vary, but cannot ease her mifery:
Whilft in her looks the lively forms appear,
Of envy, fondness, fury, and despair.

Her rage no constant face of forrow wears,
Oft fcornful fmiles fucceed loud fighs and tears;
Oft o'er her face the rifing blushes fpread,
Her glowing eye-balls turn with fury red :
Then pale and wan her alter'd looks appear,
Paler than guilt, and drooping with despair.
A tide of paffions ebb and flow within,
And oft the fhifts the melancholy scene:
Does all th' excels of woman's fury fhow,
And yields a large variety of woe.

Now calm as infants at the mother's breast, Her grief in fofteit murmurs is expreft: She speaks the tendereft things that piry move, Kind are her looks, and languishing with love. Then loud as storms, and raging as the wind, She gives a loose to her diftemper'd mind: With fhrieks and groans fhe fills the air around, And makes the palace her loud griefs refcund.

Wild with her wrongs, fhe like a fury strays, A fury, more than wife of Hercules : Her motion, looks, and voice, proclaim her woes; While fighs, and broken words, her wilder thoughts difclofe.

TO HIS PERJURED MISTRESS.
"Nox erat, et cælo fulgebat luna fereno," &c.

Ir was one evening, when the rising moon
Amidft her train of stars diftinctly shone;
Serene and calm was the inviting night,
And heaven appear'd in all its luftre bright;
When you, Neæra, you, my perjur'd fair,
Did, to abuse the gods and me, prepare.
'Twas then you fwore-remember, faithlefs maid,
With what endearing arts you then betray'd:
Remember all the tender things that paft,
When round my neck your willing arms were caft.
The circling ivys, when the oaks they join,
Seem loofe, and coy, to thofe fond arms of thine.
Believe, you cry'd, this folemn vow believe,
The nobleft pledge that love and I can give;
Or, if there's ought more facred here below,
Let that confirm my oath to heaven and you :
If e'er my breast a guilty flame receives,
Or covets joys but what thy prefence gives;
May every injur'd power affert thy caufe,
And love avenge his violated laws:
While cruel beafts of prey infeft the plain,
And tempefts rage upon the faithless main;
While fighs and tears fhall liening virgins move;
So long, ye powers, will fond Neæra love

Ah, faithlefs charmer, lovely perjur'd maid!
Arc thus my vows and generous flame repaid?
Repeated flights I have too tamely bore,
Still doated on, and ftill been wrong'd the more.
Why do I listen to that fyren's voice,
Love ev'n thy crimes, and fly to guilty joys?
Thy fatal eyes my best refolves betray,

My fury melts in sost defires away;

Each look, each glance, for all thy crimes atone, Elude my rage, and I'm again undone.

But if my injur'd foul dares yet be brave, Unless I'm fond of fhame, confirm'd a flave, will be deaf to that enchanting tongue, Nor on thy beauties gaze away my wrong. At length I'll loath each prostituted grace, Nor court the leavings of a cloy'd embrace; But fhow, with manly rage, my foul's above The cold returns of thy exhausted love. Then thou fhalt juftly mourn at my difdain, Find all thy arts and all thy charms in vain : Shalt mourn, whilft I, with nobler flames, pursue Some nymph as fair, though not unjust, as you; Whofe wit and beauty fhall like thine excel, But far furpass in truth, and loving well.

But wretched thou, whoe'er my rival art, That fondly boafts an empire o'er her heart; Thou that enjoy'st the fair inconstant prize, And vainly triumph'ft with my victories; Unenvy'd now, o'er all her beauties rove, Enjoy thy ruin, and Neæra's love : Though wealth and honours grace thy nobler birth,

To bribe her love, and fix a wandering faith; Though every grace and every virtue join, T'enrich thy mind, and make thy form divine: Yet bleft, with endless charms, too foon you'll

THE man that's uncorrupt, and free from guilt,
That the remorfe of fecret crimes ne'er felt
Whofe breaft was ne'er debauch'd with fin
But finds all calm, and all at peace within:
In his integrity fecure,

He fears no danger, dreads no power;
Ufelefs are arms for his defence,
That keeps a faithful guard of innocence.
Secure the happy innocent may rove,
The care of every power above;
Although unarm'd he wanders o'er
The treacherous Liby's fands, and faithless fhore:
Though o'er th' inhofpitable brows
Of favage Caucafus he goes;

Through Afric's flames, through Scythia's
fnows,

Or where Hydafpes, fam'd for monsters, flows.
For as, within an unfi equented grove,

I tun'd my willing lyre to love,
With pleating amorous thoughts betray'd,
Beyond my bounds infenfibly I ftray'd;

A wolf that view'd me fled away
He fed from his defenceless prey!

When I invok'd Maria's aid, Although unarm'd, the trembling monster fled.. Not Daunia's teeming fands, nor barbarous fhore, F'er fuch a dreadful native bore, Nor Afric's nurfing caves brought forth So fierce a beast, of fuch amazing growth: Yet vain did all his fury prove

Against a breaft that's arm'd with love; Though abfent, fair Maria's name Subdues the fierce, and makes the favage tame. Commit me now to that abandon'd place

Where cheerful light withdraws its rays; No beams on barren nature fmile, Nor fruitful winds refresh th' intemperate foil; But tempefts. with eternal frosts, Still rage around the gloomy coast: Whilft angry Jove infefts the air, And, black with clouds, deforms the fullen year. Or place me now beneath the torrid zone, To live a borderer on the fun : Send me to fcorching fands, whofe heat Guards the deftructive foil from human feet: Yet there I'll fing Maria's name,

And fport, uninjur'd, 'midft the flame: Maria's name that will create, ev'n there, A milder climate, and more temperate air!

PATROCLUS'S REQUEST TO ACHILLES

FOR HIS ARMS.

t

Upbraid not thus th' afflicted with their woes,
Nor triumph now the Greeks fuftain fuch lofs!
To pity let thy generous breast incline,
And show thy mind is like thy birth, divine.
For all the valiant leaders of their hoft,
Or wounded lie, or are in battle loft.
Ulyffes great in arms, and Diomede,
Languish with wounds, and in the navy bleed:
This common fate great Agamemnon fhares,
And ftern Eurypylus, renown'd in wars.
Whilst powerful drugs th' experienc'd artifts try,
And to their wounds apt remedies apply:
Eafing th' afflicted heroes with their skill,
Thy breaft alone remains implacable!

What, will thy fury thus for ever last!
Let prefent woes atone for injuries paft:
How can thy foul retain fuch lafting hate!
Thy virtues are as ufelefs as they're great.
What injur'd friend from thee fhall hope redrefs
That will not aid the Greeks in fuch diftrefs?
Ufelefs is all the valour that you boaft,
Deform'd with rage, with fullen fury loft.

Could cruelty like thine from Peleus come,
Or be the offspring of fair Thetis' womb!
Thee raging feas, thee boisterous waves brought
forth,

And to obdurate rocks thou ow'st thy birth!
Thy stubborn nature ftill retains their kind;
So hard thy heart, fo favage is thy mind.

But, if thy boding breast admits of fear,
Or dreads what facred oracles declare !
What awful Thetis in the courts above
Receiv'd from the unerring mouth of Jove!

Homer.

DIVINE Achilles, with compaffion mov'd, Thus to Patroclus fpake, his best belov'd.

2

Why like a tender girl doft thou complain! That strives to reach the mother's breat in vain ; Mourns by her fide, her knees embraces fast, Hangs on her robes, and interrupts her hafte; Yet, when with fondnefs to her arms fhe's rais'd, Still mourns and weeps, and will not be appeas'd!

A

hus my Patroclus in his grief appears,

Thus like a froward girl profufe of tears.

From Phthia doft thou mournful tidings hear, And to thy friend fome fatal meffage bear? Thy valiant father (if we fame believe) The good Menætius, he is yet alive : And Peleus, though in his declining days, Reigns o'er his Myrmidons in health and peace; Yet, as their lateft obfequies we paid, Thou mourn'ft them living. as already dead.

Or thus with tears the Grecian hoft deplore, That with their navy perifh on the fhore; And with compaffion their misfortunes view, The juft reward to guilt and falsehood due ? Impartial heaven avenges thus my wrong, Nor fuffers crimes to go unpunifh'd long. Reveal the caufe fo much afflicts thy mind, Nor thus conceal thy forrows from thy friend. When, gently raising up his drooping head, Thus, with a figh, the fad Patroclus faid. Godlike Achilles, Pelcus' valiant fon : Of all our chiefs, the greatest in renown;

And head the warlike fquadrons in thy place:
Whilft me thy valiant Myrmidons obcy,
We yet may turn the fortune of the day.
Let me in thy diftinguish'd arms appear,
With all thy dreadful equipage of war;
That when the Trojans our approaches view,
Deceiv'd, they fhall retreat, and think 'tis you.

Thus, from, the rage of an infulting hoft,
We may retrieve that fame the Greeks have loft;
Vigorous and fresh, th' unequal fight renew,
And from our navy force the drooping foe;
O'er harass'd men an eafy conqueft gain,
And drive the Trojans to their walls again.

ON THE

REPRINTING MILTON'S PROSE WORKS, With his Poems. Written in his Paradife Loft.

THESE facred lines with wonder we peruse,
And praife the flights of a feraphic mufe,
Till thy feditious profe provokes our rage,
And foils the beauties of thy brightest page.
Thus here we fee transporting scenes arise,
Heaven's radiant hoft, and opening paradife;
Then trembling view the dread abyfs beneath,
Hell's horrid manfions, and the realms of death.

Whilft here thy bold majeftic numbers rife,
And range th' embattled legions of the fkies,
With armies fill the azure plains of light,
And paint the lively terrors of the fight,