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Forced by thy worth, thy foe, in death become
Thy friend, has lodged thee in a costly tomb.
There yet remaind thy funeral exequies,
The weeping tribute of thy widow's eyes ;
And those indulgent heaven has found the way,
That I, before my death, have leave to pay.
My father even in cruelty is kind,
Or heaven has turn'd the malice of his mind
To better uses than his hate design’d;
And made the insult, which in his gift appears,
The means to mourn thee with my pious tears ;
Which I will pay thée down before I go,
And save myself the pains to weep below,
If souls can weep. Though once I meant to meet
My fate with face unmov’d, and eyes unwet,
Yet, since I have thee here in narrow room,
My tears shall set thee first afloat within thy tomb.
Then (as I know thy spirit hovers nigh)
Under thy friendly conduct will I fly
To regions unexplored, secure to share
Thy state ; nor hell shall punishment appear; ;
And heaven is double heaven, if thou art there.

She said : Her brimful eyes, that ready stood,
And only wanted will to weep a flood,
Released their watery store, and pour'd amain,
Like clouds low-hung, a sober shower of rain ;
Muté solemn sorrow, free from female noise,
Such as the majesty of grief destroys ;
For, bending o'er the cup, the tears she shed,
Seem'd by the posture to discharge her head,
O'er-fill'd before ; and (oft her mouth applied
To the cold heart) she kiss'd at once, and cried.
Her maids, who stood amazed, nor knew the cause
Of her complaining, nor whose heart it was,
Yet all due measures of her mourning kept,
Did office at the dirge, and by infection wept,

And oft inquired the occasion of her grief,
(Unanswer'd but by sighs) and offer'd vain relief.
At length, her stock of tears already shed,
She wiped her eyes, she raised her drooping head,
And thus pursued :-O ever faithful heart,
I have perform'd the ceremonial part,
The decencies of grief; it rests behind,
That, as our bodies were, our souls be join'd;
To thy whate'er abode my shade convey,
And, as an elder ghost, direct the way!
She said ; and bade the vial to be brought,
Where she before had brew'd the deadly draught;
First pouring out the med'cinable bane,
The heart, her tears had rinsed, she bathed again ;
Then down her throat the death securely throws,
And quaffs a long oblivion of her woes.

This done, she mounts the genial bed, and there
(Her body first composed with honest care)
Attends the welcome rest; her hands yet hold,
Close to her heart, the monumental gold;
Nor farther word she spoke, but closed her sight,
And quiet sought the covert of the night.

The damsels, who the while in silence mourn'd, Not knowing, nor suspecting death suborn'd, Yet, as their duty was, to Tancred sent, Who, conscious of the occasion, fear’d the event. Alarm’d, and with presaging heart, he came, And drew the curtains, and exposed the dame To loathsome light; then, with a late relief, Made vain efforts to mitigate her grief. She, what she could, excluding day, her eyes Kept firmly seal'd, and sternly thus replies :Tancred, restrain thy tears, unsought by me, And sorrow unavailing now to thee: Did ever man before afflict his mind, To see the effect of what himself design'd ?

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Yet, if thou hast remaining in thy heart
Some sense of love, some unextinguish'd part
Of former kindness, largely once professid,
Let me by that adjure thy harden'd breast,
Not to deny thy daughter's last request.
The secret love which I so long enjoy'd,
And still conceald, to gratify thy pride,
Thou hast disjoin'd; but, with my dying breath,
Seek not, I beg thee, to disjoin our death :
Where'er his corpse by thy command is laid,
Thither let mine in public be convey'd ;
Exposed in open view, and side by side,
Acknowledged as a bridegroom and a bride.-

The prince's anguish hinderd his reply;
And she, who felt her fate approaching nigh,
Seized the cold heart, and heaving to her breast,.
Here, precious pledge, she said, securely rest.-
These accents were her last; the creeping death
Benumb'd her senses first, then stopp'd her breath.

Thus she for disobedience justly died; The sire was justly punish'd for his pride; The youth, least guilty, suffer'd for the offence, Of duty violated to his prince; Who, late repenting of his cruel deed, One common sepulchre for both decreed; Entomb'd the wretched pair in royal state, And on their monument inscribed their fate.

ORIGINAL, FROM THE DECAMERON.

THE FOURTH DAY.

NOVEL I.

Tancred, Prince of Salerno, puts his daughter's lover to death, and sends his heart to her in a golden cup ;

she
pours

water upon it, which she had poisoned, and so dies.

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Our king has given us a most melancholy subject for this day's discourse ; considering that, as we came hither to be merry, we must now recount other people's misfortunes, which cannot be related without moving compassion, as well in those who tell, as in those who hear them. Perhaps it is designed as an allay to the mirth of the preceding days. But, whatever his reason may be for it, I have no business to make any alteration with regard to his pleasure. I shall, therefore, mention an unhappy story to you, worthy of your most tender compassion.

Tancred, prince of Salerno, was a most humane and generous lord, had he not, in his old age, defiled his hands in a lover's blood. He, through the whole course of his life, had only one daughter ; and happy had he been not to have possessed her. No child could be more dear to a parent than she was, which made him loth to part with her in marriage: at length, not till she was a little advanced in years, he married her to the Duke of Capoa, when she was soon left a widow, and came home again to her father. She was a lady of great beauty and understanding, and continuing thus in the court of her father, who took no care to marry her again, and it seeming not so modest in her to ask it, she resolved at last to have a lover privately. Accordingly, she made choice of a person of low parentage, but noble qualities, whose name was Guiscard, with whom she became violently in love; and by often see

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ing him, and evermore commending his manner and behaviour, he soon became sensible of it, and devoted himself entirely to the love of her. Affecting each other thus in secret, and she desiring nothing so much as to be with him, and not daring to trust any person with the affair, contrived a new stratagem in order to apprise him of the means. She wrote a letter, wherein she mentioned what she would have him do the next day for her; this she put into a hollow cane, and giving it to him one day, she said, pleasantly, “ You may make a pair of bellows of this, for your servant to blow the fire with this evening.” He received it, supposing, very justly, that it had some meaning, and, taking it home, found the letter; which, when he had thoroughly considered, and knew what he had to do, he was the most overjoyed man that could be; and he applied himself accordingly to answer her assignation, in the manner she had directed him. On one side of the palace, and under a mountain, was a grotto, which had been made time out of mind, and into which no light could come but through a little opening dug in the mountain, and which, as the grotto had been long in disuse, was now grown over with briers and thorns. Into this grotto was a passage, by a private stait-case, out of one of the rooms of the palace, which belonged to the lady's apartment, and was secured by a very strong door. This passage was so far out of every one's thoughts, having been disused for so long a time, that nobody remembered any thing about it; but love, whose notice nothing can escape, brought it fresh into the mind of the ena. moured lady; who, to keep this thing entirely private, laboured some days before she could get the door open; when having gone down into the cave, and observed the opening, and how high it might be from thence to the bottom, she acquainted him with the fact. Guiscard then provided a ladder of cords; and casing him self well with leather, to be defended from the thorns, fixing one end of the ladder to the stump of a tree which was near, he slid down by the help of it to the bottom, where he stayed expecting the larly. The following day, therefore, having sent her maids out of the way, under pretence that she was going to lie down, and locking herself up alone in her chamber, she opened the door, and descended into the grotto, where they met to their mutual satisfaction. From thence she shewed him the way to her chamber, where they were together the greatest part of the day, and taking proper measures for the time to come, he wentaway through the cave, and she returned to her maids. The same he did the next night; and he followed this course for a considerable time, when fortune, as if she envied them their happiness, thought fit to change their mirth into mourning. Tancred used sometimes to come into his daughter's chamber, to pass a little time away with her; and going thither one day after dinner, whilst the lady, whose

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