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True priests, he said, and preachers of the word, Were only stewards of their sovereign Lord; Nothing was theirs; but all the public storeIntrusted riches to relieve the poor.

Who, should they steal, for want of his relief,
He judg'd himself accomplice with the thief.
Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling
house;

Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick; to succour the distress'd:
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

All this the good old man perform'd alone,
Nor spar'd his pains; for curate he had none.
Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair,
To chaffer for preferment with his gold,
Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold,
But duly watch'd his flock, by night and day;
And from the prowling wolf redeem'd the prey:
And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd: Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. His preaching much, but more his practice wrought;

(A living sermon of the truths he taught ;) For this by rules severe his life he squar'd: That all might see the doctrine which they heard.

For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest : (The gold of heaven, who bear the God impress'd:)

But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The sovereign's image is no longer seen,
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.
The prelate, for his holy life he priz'd;
The worldly pomp of prelacy despis'd,
His Saviour came not with a gaudy show;
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,
These marks of church and churchmen he de-
sign'd,

And living taught, and dying left behind.
The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn:
In purple he was crucified, not born.
They who contend for place and high degree,
Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.

Not but he knew the signs of earthly power Might well become Saint Peter's successor;

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With what he begg'd his brethren he reliev'd;
And gave the charities himself receiv'd.
Gave, while he taught; and edified the more,
Because he show'd, by proof, 't was easy to be
poor.

He went not with the crowd to see a shrine; But fed us, by the way, with food divine,

In deference to his virtues, I forbear To show you what the rest in orders were : This brilliant is so spotless, and so bright, He needs no foil, but shines by his own proper light.

TRANSLATIONS FROM BOCCACE.

SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO.

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 pos
sess'd,

Yet was with one fair daughter only bless'd;
And bless'd he might have been with her alone :
But oh! how much inore 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 liv'd by him, and now he liv'd 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 requir'd,
And all his vassals eagerly desir'd,
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 expir'd before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restor❜d anew, she held a higher place;
More lov'd, and more exalted into grace.
This princess, fresh and young, and fair and
wise,

'The worshipp'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 amor-
ous mind,

To second nuptials had her thoughts inclin'd:
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.

Resolv'd 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 those graces every day beheld
The graceful youth; and every day increas'd
The raging fires 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 his were set,
At length their twisted rays together met;
And he surpris'd with humble joy, survey'd
One sweet regard, shot by the royal maid:
Not well assur'd, while doubtful hopes he nurs'd,
A second glance came gliding like the first;
And he, who saw the sharpness of the dart,
Without defence receiv'd 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 enclos'd 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 re
quire

This little brand will serve to light your fire.
He took it with a bow, and soon divin'd
The seeming toy was not for nought design'd
But when retir'd, so long with curious eyes
He view'd his present, that he found the prize.
Much was in little writ; and all convey'd
With cautious care, for fear to be betray'd
By some false confidant, or favourite maid.
The time, the place, the manner how to meet,
Were all in punctual order plainly writ:
But since a trust must be, she thought it best
To put it out of laymen's power at least;
And for their solemn vows prepar'd a priest.

Guiscard (her secret purpose understood)
With joy prepar'd to meet the coming good;

Nor pains nor danger was resolv'd to spare,
But use the means appointed by the fair.

Next the proud palace of Salerno stood
A mount of rough ascent, and thick with wood.
Through this a cave was dug with vast ex-
pense:

The work it seem'd of some suspicious prince,
Who, when abusing power with lawless might,
From public justice would secure his flight.
The passage made by many a winding way,
Reach'd e'en the room in which the tyrant lay.
Fit for his purpose, on a lower floor,
He lodg'd, whose issue was an iron door;
From whence, by stairs descending to the
ground,

In the blind grot a safe retreat he found.
Its outlet ended in a brake o'ergrown
With brambles, chok'd by time, and now un-
known.
[height
A rift there was, which from the mountain's
Convey'd a glimmering and malignant light,
A breathing-place to draw the damps away,
A twilight of an intercepted day.
The tyrant's den, whose use, though lost to fame
Was now the apartment of the royal dame;
The cavern only to her father known,
By him was to his darling daughter shown.
Neglected long she let the secret rest,
Till love recall'd it to her labouring breast,
And hinted as the way by heaven design'd
The teacher, by the means he taught, to blind.
What will not women do, when need inspires
Their wit, or love their inclination fires!
Though jealousy of state the invention found,
Yet love refin'd upon the former ground.
That way the tyrant had reserv'd to fly [nigh
Pursuing hate, now serv'd to bring two lovers
The dame, who long in vain had kept the key,
Bold by desire, explor'd the secret way;
Now tried the stairs, and, wading through the
night,

Search'd all the deep recess, and issu'd into light.

All this her letter had so well explain'd,
The instructed youth might compass what re-
main'd;

The cavern's mouth alone was hard to find,
Because the path, disus'd, was out of mind:
But in what quarter of the copse it lay,
His eye by certain level could survey:

Fenc'd from the thorns, and trod the deep de

scent.

The conscious priest, who was suborn'd before,
Stood ready posted at the postern door;
The maids in distant rooms were sent to rest,
And nothing wanted but the invited guest.
He came, and knocking thrice, without delay,
The longing lady heard, and turu'd the key;
At once invaded him with all her charms,
And the first step he made was in her arms:
The leathern outside, boisterous as it was,
Gave way, and bent beneath her strict embrace:
On either side the kisses flew so thick,
That neither he nor she had breath to speak.
The holy man, amaz'd at what he saw,
Made haste to sanctify the bliss by law;
And mutter'd fast the matrimony o'er,
For fear committed sin should get before.
His work perform'd, he left the pair alone,
Because he knew he could not go too soon;
His presence odious, when his task was done.
What thoughts he had beseems me not to say;
Though some surmise he went to fast and pray,
And needed both to drive the tempting thoughts

away.

Thus were their loves auspiciously begun,
And thus with secret care were carried on.
The stealth itself did appetite restore,
And look'd so like a sin, it pleas'd the more.

The cave was now become a common way,
The wicket, often open'd, knew the key:
Love rioted secure, and long enjoy'd,
Was ever eager, and was never cloy'd.

But as extremes are short, of ill and good, And tides at highest mark regorge their flood; So fate, that could no more improve their joy, Took a malicious pleasure to destroy.

Tancred, who fondly lov'd, and whose delight

Was plac'd in his fair daughter's daily sight,
Of custom, when, his state affairs were done,
Would pass his pleasing hours with her alone,
And, as a father's privilege allow'd,
Without attendance of the officious crowd.

It happen'd once, that when in heat of day He tried to sleep, as was his usual way,

Yet (for the wood perplex'd with thorns he The balmy slumber fled his wakeful eyes,

knew)

A frock of leather o'er his limbs he drew;
And thus provided, search'd the brake around,
Till the chok'd entry of the cave he found.
Thus, all prepar'd, the promis'd hour arriv'd,
So long expected, and so well contriv'd:
With love to friend, the impatient lover went,

And forc'd him, in his own despite, to rise:
Of sleep forsaken, to relieve his care,
He sought the conversation of the fair;
But with her train of damsels she was gone,
In shady walks the scorching heat to shun:
He would not violate that sweet recess,
And found besides a welcome heaviness,

That seiz'd his eyes; and slumber, which forgot, When call'd before, to come, now came unsought.

From light retir'd, behind his daughter's bed,
He for approaching sleep compos'd his head;
A chair was ready, for that use design'd,
So quilted, that he lay at ease reclin'd;
The curtains closely drawn, the light to screen,
As if he had contriv'd to lie unseen :
Thus cover'd with an artificial night,
Sleep did his office soon, and seal'd his sight.
With heaven averse, in this ill-omen'd hour
Was Guiscard summon'd to the secret bower,
And the fair nymph, with expectation fir'd,
From her attending damsels was retir'd:
For, true to love, she measur'd time so right,
As not to miss one moment of delight.
The garden, seated on the level floor,
She left behind, and locking every door,
Thought all secure; but little did she know,
Blind to her fate, she had enclos'd her foe.
Attending Guiscard, in his leathern frock,
Stood ready, with his thrice-repeated knock
Thrice with a doleful sound the jarring grate
Rung deaf and hollow, and presag'd their fate.

The sudden bound awak'd the sleeping sire, And show'd a sight no parent can desire; His opening eyes at once with odious view The love discover'd, and the lover knew: He would have cried; but hoping that he dreamt,

Amazement tied his tongue, and stopp'd the attempt.

The ensuing moment all the truth declar'd,
But now he stood collected, and prepar'd,
For malice and revenge had put him on his
guard.

So like a lion that unheeded lay,
Dissembling sleep, and watchful to betray,
With inward rage he meditates his prey.
The thoughtless pair, indulging their desires,
Alternate kindled, and then quench'd their fires;
Nor thinking in the shades of death they play'd,
Full of themselves, themselves alone survey'd,
And, too secure were by themselves betray'd.

Then rose the youth, and through the cave again

Return'd; the princess mingled with her train.
Resolv'd his unripe vengeance to defer,
The royal spy, when now the coast was clear,
Sought not the garden, but retir'd unseen,
To brood in secret his gather'd spleen,

And methodize revenge: to death he griev'd;
And, but he saw the crime,had scarce believ'd.
The appointment for the ensuing night he heard;
And therefore in the cavern had prepar'd
Two brawny yeomen of his trusty guard.

Scarce had unwary Guiscard set his foot
Within the foremost entrance of the grot,
When these in secret ambush ready lay,
And rushing on the sudden seiz'd the prey:
Encumber'd with his frock, without defence,
An easy prize, they led the prisoner thence,
And, as commanded, brought before the prince.
The gloomy sire, too sensible of wrong,
To vent his rage in words, restrain'd his tongue,
And only said, Thus servants are preferr'd,
And, trusted, thus their sovereigns they reward.
Had I not seen, had not these eyes receiv'd
Too clear a proof, I could not have believ'd.
He paus'd and chok'd the rest. The youth,

who saw

His forfeit life abandon'd to the law,

The judge the accuser, and the offence to him, Who had both power and will to avenge the

crime,

No vain defence prepar'd; but thus replied:
The faults of love by love are justified:
With unresisted might the monarch reigns,
He levels mountains, and he raises plains;
And, not regarding difference of degree,
Abas'd your daughter, and exalted me.
This bold return with seening patience heard
The prisoner was remitted to the guard.
The sullen tyrant slept not all the night,
But, lonely walking by a winking light,
Sobb'd, wept,and groan'd, and beat his wither'd
breast,

But would not violate his daughter's rest;
Who long expecting lay, for bliss prepar'd,
List'ning for noise, and griev'd that none she
hear'd;

Oft
rose, and oft in vain employ'd the key,
And oft accus'd her lover of delay;
And pass'd the tedious hours in anxious thoughts

away.

The morrow came; and at his usual hour
Old Tancred visited his daughter's bower;
Her cheek (for such his custom was) he kiss'd,
Then bless'd her kneeling, and her maids dis-
miss'd.

The royal dignity thus far maintain'd,
Now left in private, he no longer feign'd;
But all at once his grief and rage appear'd,
And floods of tears ran trickling down his beard.
O Sigismonda, he began to say:
Thrice he began, and thrice was forc'd to stay,
Till words with often trying found their way:
I thought, O Sigismonda, (but now blind
Are parents' eyes, their children's faults to find!)

Thy virtue, birth, and breeding were above
A mean desire, and vulgar sense of love:
Nor less than sight and hearing could convince
So fond a father, and so just a prince,

Of such an unforeseen, and unbeliev'd offence.
Then what indignant sorrow must I have,
To see thee lie subjected to my slave!
A man so smelling of the people's lee,
The court receiv'd him first for charity;
And since with no degree of honour grac'd,
But only suffer'd, where he first was plac'd.
A grove ling insect still; and so design'd
By nature's hand, nor born of noble kind :
A thing, by neither man nor woman priz'd,
And scarcely known enough to be despis'd.
To what has heaven reserv'd my age? Ah
why
[die,

Should man, when nature calls, not choose to
Rather than stretch the span of life, to find
Such ills as fate has wisely cast behind,
For those to feel, whom fond desire to live
Makes covetous of more than life can give!
Each has his share of good; and when 't is gone,
The guest, though hungry, cannot rise too soon.
But I, expecting more, in my own wrong
Protracting life, have liv'd a day too long.
If yesterday could be recall'd again,
E'en now would I conclude my happy reign;
But 't is too late, my glorious race is run,
And a dark cloud o'ertakes my setting sun.
Hadst thou not lov'd, or loving sav'd the shame,
If not the sin, by some illustrious name,
This little comfort had reliev'd my mind,
'T was frailty, not unusual to thy kind:
But thy low fall beneath thy royal blood,
Shows downward appetite to mix with mud;
Thus not the least excuse is left for thee,
Nor the least refuge for unhappy me.
For him I have resolv'd: whom by surprise
I took, and scarce can call it, in disguise;
For such was his attire, as, with intent
Of nature, suited to his mean descent:
The harder question yet remains behind,
What pains a parent and a prince can find
To punish an offence of this degenerate kind.
As I have lov'd, and yet I love thee, more
Than ever father lov'd a child before;
So that indulgence draws me to forgive: [live.
Nature, that gave thee life, would have thee
But, as a public parent of the state,

My justice, and thy crime, requires thy fate.
Fain would I choose a middle course to steer:
Nature's too kind, and justice too severe :
Speak for us both, and to the balance bring
On either side the father and the king.
Heaven knows, my heart is bent to favour thee;
Make it but scanty weight, and leave the rest

to me.

Here stopping with a sigh, he pour'd a flood
Of tears, to make his last expression good.
She, who had heard him speak, nor saw alone
The secret conduct of her love was known,
But he was taken who her soul possess'd,
Felt all the pangs of sorrow in her breast:
And little wanted, but a woman's heart,
With cries and tears, had testified her smart;
But inborn worth, that fortune can control,
New strung, and stiffer bent her softer soul;
The heroine assum'd the woman's place,
Confirm'd her mind, and fortified her face:
Why should she beg, or what could she pretend,
When her stern father had condemn'd her
friend?

Her life she might have had; but her despair
Of saving his had put it past her care;
Resolv'd on fate, she would not lose her breath,
But, rather than not die, solicit death,
Fix'd on this thought, she not, as women use,
Her fault by common frailty would excuse;
But boldly justified her innocence,
And, while the fact was own'd, denied the of
Then with dry eyes, and with an open look,
She met his glance midway, and thus undaunted
spoke :

[fence:

Tancred, I neither am dispos'd to make Request for life, nor offer'd life to take; Much less deny the deed; but least of all Beneath pretended justice weakly fall. My words to sacred truth shall be confin'd, My deeds shall show the greatness of my mind. That I have lov'd, I own; that still I love I call to witness all the powers above: Yet more I own: to Guiscard's love I give The small remaining time I have to live; And if beyond this life desire can be, Not fate itself shall set my passion frec. This first avow'd; nor folly warp'd my mind, Nor the frail texture of the female kind Betray'd my virtue: for, too well I knew What honour was, and honour had his due: Before the holy priest my vows were tied, So came I not a strumpet, but a bride. This for my fame, and for the public voice: Yet more, his merits justified my choice: Which had they not, the first election thine, That bond dissolv'd, the next is freely mine, Or grant I err'd, (which yet I must deny,) Had parents power e'en second vows to tie, Thy little care to mend my widow'd nights Has forc'd me to recourse of marriage rites, To fill an empty side, and follow known delights. What have I done in this, deserving blame? State-laws may alter-nature's are the same; Those are usurp'd on helpless woman-kind, Made without our consent, and wanting power to bind.

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