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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 command,

The sturdy kerns in due subjection stand,
Nor hear the reins in any foreign hand.
At
your approach, they crowded to the
port;
And scarcely landed, you create a court:
As Ormond's harbinger, to you they run;
For Venus is the promise of the sun.

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The waste of civil wars, their towns destroy'd,

Pales unhonor'd, Ceres unemploy'd,
Were all forgot; and one triumphant day
Wip'd all the tears of three campaigns

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The storm at their return, the ladies' fear:
But these, and other things, I must forbear.
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 forborne, That others may have time to take their turn;

As was at first enjoin'd us by mine hostThat he whose tale is best, and pleases most,

Should win his supper at our common cost. And therefore where I left, I will

pursue

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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, 40
And saw a choir of mourning dames, who
lay

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 courser's 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, To meet my triumph in ill-omen'd weeds? 50 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."

The most in years of all the mourning train

Began; (but sounded first away for pain;) Then, scarce recover'd, spoke: "Nor envy

we

Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory; 'Tis thine, O king, th' afflicted to redress, And fame has fill'd the world with thy

success:

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' oppress'd, and wipe the widows'

tears.

I, wretched I, have other fortune seen, The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen: At Thebes he fell; curst be the fatal day! And all the rest thou seest in this array, To make their moan, their lords in battle lost

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Before that town besieg'd by our confed'rate host: 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, unburied, 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,

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With groans, and hands upheld, to move his mind,

Besought his pity to their helpless kind! The prince was touch'd, his tears began to flow,

And, as his tender heart would break in two,

He sigh'd; and could not but their fate de

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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 car; 110:
Red was his sword, and shield, and whole
attire,

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 dyed to sanguine hue.

High on his pointed lance his pennon bore
His Cretan fight, the conquer'd Minotaur:
The soldiers shout around with generous
rage,

And in that victory their own presage.
He prais'd their ardor, inly pleas'd to see
His host the flow'r of Grecian chivalry.
All day he march'd, and all th' ensuing
night,

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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 battle slain; 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

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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,

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He to his city sent as pris'ners of the war, Hopeless of ransom, and condemn'd to lie In durance, doom'd a ling'ring 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 ('t was on the morn of cheerful
May)

The young Emilia, fairer to be seen

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Than the fair lily on the flow'ry green, More fresh than May herself in blossoms

new,

For with the rosy color 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;

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Built of a large extent, and strong withal,
Was one partition of the palace wall;
The garden was enclos'd within the square
Where young Emilia took the morning air.

It happen'd Palamon, the pris'ner knight, Restless for woe, arose before the light, And with his jailer's leave desir'd to breathe

An air more wholesome than the damps beneath.

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This granted, to the tow'r he took his way, Cheer'd with the promise of a glorious day; Then cast a languishing regard around, And saw, with hateful eyes, the temples crown'd

With golden spires, and all the hostile ground.

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