But pride ftood ready to prevent the blow,
For who would die to gratify a foe?
His gen'rous mind difdain'd so mean a fate;
That pafs'd, his next endeavour was to hate.
But vainer that relief than all the reft,
The lefs he hop'd, with more defire poffefs'd;
Love ftood the fiege, and would not yield his breast,
Change was the next, but change deceiv'd his care;
He fought a fairer, but found none fo fair.
He would have worn her out by flow degrees,
As men by fasting starve th' untam'd disease:
But prefent love requir'd a prefent ease.
Looking he feeds alone his famish'd eyes,
Feeds ling'ring death, but looking not he dies.
Yet ftill he chofe the longest way to fate,
Wafting at once his life, and his estate.
His friends beheld, and pity'd him in vain,
For what advice can ease a lover's pain!
Abfence, the best expedient they could find,
Might fave the fortune, if not cure the mind:
This means they long propos'd, but little gain'd,
Yet after much purfuit, at length obtain❜d.
Hard you may think it was to give confent,
But ftruggling with his own defires he went,
With large expence, and with a pompous train,
Provided as to vifit France and Spain,
Or for fome diftant voyage o'er the main.
But love had clipp'd his wings, and cut him fhort,
Confin'd within the purlieus of the court.
Three miles he went, nor farther could retreat;
His travels ended at his country-feat:
To Chaffis' pleafing plains he took his way,
There pitch'd his tents, and there refolv'd to stay.
The fpring was in the prime; the neighb'ring grove
Supply'd with birds, the chorifters of love:
Mufic unbought, that minifter'd delight
To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by night:
There he discharg'd his friends; but not th' expence
Of frequent treats, and proud magnificence.
He liv'd as kings retire, tho' more at large
From public bufinefs, yet with equal charge;
With house, and heart ftill open to receive;
As well content as love would give him leave:
He would have liv'd more free; but many a guest,
Who could forfake the friend, purfu'd the feaft
It happ'd one morning, as his fancy led,
Before his ufual hour he left his bed;
To walk within a lonely lawn, that stood
On ev'ry fide furrounded by a wood:
Alone he walk'd, to please his pensive mind,
And fought the deepest folitude to find;
'Twas in a grove of spreading pines he stray'd;
The winds within the quiv'ring branches play'd,
And dancing trees a mournful music made.
The place itself was fuiting to his care,
Uncouth and favage, as the cruel fair.
He wander'd on, unknowing where he went,
Loft in the wood, and all on love intent:
The day already half his race had run,
And fummon'd him to due repaft at noon,
But love could feel no hunger but his own.
Whilft lift'ning to the murm'ring leaves he stood,
More than a mile immers'd within the wood,
At once the wind was laid; the whisp'ring found
Was dumb; a rifing earthquake rock'd the ground;
With deeper brown the grove was overspread;
A fudden horror feiz'd his giddy head,
And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled,
Nature was in alarm; fome danger nigh
Seem'd threaten'd, tho' unfeen to mortal eye.
Unus'd to fear, he fummon'd all his foul,
And stood collected in himself, and whole;
Not long for foon a whirlwind rofe around,
And from afar he heard a fcreaming found,
As of a dame diftrefs'd, who cry'd for aid,
And fill'd with loud laments the fecret fhade.
A thicket clofe befide the grove there ftood,
With briers and brambles choak'd, and dwarfish wood;
From thence the noife, which now approaching near
With more diftinguish'd notes invades his ear;
He rais'd his head, and faw a beauteous maid,
With hair dishevell'd, iffuing thro' the fhade;
Stripp'd of her clothes, and e'en those parts reveal'd,
Which modeft nature keeps from fight conceal'd.
Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn,
With paffing thro' the brakes, and prickly thorn;
Two mastiffs gaunt and grim her flight purfu'd,
And oft their fasten'd fangs in blood embru❜d:
Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender fide,
Mercy, O mercy, heav'n, fhe ran, and cry'd;
When heav'n was nam'd, they loos'd their hold again,
Then fprung fhe forth, they follow'd her amain.
Not far behind, a knight of fwarthy face,
High on a coal-black steed pursu'd the chace;
With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd,
And in his hand a naked fword he held:
He chear'd the dogs to follow her who fled,
And vow'd revenge on her devoted head.
As Theodore was born of noble kind,
The brutal action rous'd his manly mind;
Mov'd with unworthy usage of the maid,
He, tho' unarm'd, refolv'd to give her aid.
A faplin pine he wrench'd from out the ground,
The readiest weapon that his fury found.
Thus furnish'd for offence, he crofs'd the way
Betwixt the graceless villain, and his prey.
The knight came thund'ring on, but, from afar,
Thus in imperious tone forbad the war:
Ceafe, Theodore, to proffer vain relief,
Nor ftop the vengeance of so just a grief;
But give me leave to seize my deftin'd prey,
And let eternal juftice take the way:
I but revenge my fate, difdain'd, betray'd,
And fuff'ring death for this ungrateful maid.
He faid, at once difmounting from the steed;
For now the hell-hounds with fuperior speed
Had reach'd the dame, and fast'ning on her fide,
The ground with iffuing ftreams of purple dy❜d.
Stood Theodore furpris'd in deadly fright,
With chatt'ring teeth, and briftling hair upright;
Yet arm'd with inborn worth, whate'er, faid he,
Thou art, who know'ft me better than I thee;
Or prove thy rightful caufe, or be defy'd;
The fpectre, fiercely ftaring, thus reply'd:
Know, Theodore, thy ancestry I claim,
And Guido Cavalcanti was my name.
One common fire our fathers did beget,
My name and story some remember yet;
Thee, then a boy, within my arms I laid,
When for my fins I lov'd this haughty maid;
Not lefs ador'd in life, nor ferv'd by me,
Than proud Honoria now is lov'd by thee.
What did I not her stubborn heart to gain?
But all my vows were answer'd with difdain:
She fcorn'd my forrows, and despis'd my pain.
Long time I dragg'd my days in fruitless care;
Then lothing life, and plung'd in deep despair,
To finish my unhappy life, I fell
On this sharp fword, and now am damn'd in hell.
Short was her joy; for foon th' infulting maid By heav'n's decree in this cold grave was laid. And as in unrepented fin fhe dy'd,
Doom'd to the fame bad place is punish'd for her pride:
Because she deem'd I well deserv❜d to die,
And made a merit of her cruelty.
There, then, we met; both try'd, and both were cast, And this irrevocable fentence pass'd;
That fhe, whom I fo long purfu'd in vain,
Should fuffer from my hands a ling'ring pain:
Renew'd to life that the might daily die,
I daily doom'd to follow, fhe to fly;
No more a lover, but a mortal foe,
I feek her life (for love is none below:)
As often as my dogs with better speed
Arrest her flight, is the to death decreed:
Then with this fatal fword, on which I dy'd,
I pierce her open back, or tender fide,
And tear that harden'd heart from out her breast, Which, with her entrails makes my hungry hounds a feaft.
Nor lies the long, but as her fates ordain,
Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain,
Is fav'd to-day, to-morrow to be flain.
This, vers'd in death, th' infernal knight relates,
And then for proof fulfill'd the common fates;
Her heart and bowels thro' her back he drew,
And fed the hounds that help'd him to pursue.
Stern look'd the fiend, as fruftrate of his will,
Not half suffic'd, and greedy yet to kill.
And now the foul expiring through the wound,
Had left the body breathlefs on the ground,
When thus the grisly spectre spoke again:
Behold the fruit of ill rewarded pain:
As many months as I fuftain'd her hate,
So many years is she condemn'd by fate
To daily death; and ev'ry fev'ral place
Conscious of her difdain, and my disgrace,
Muft witness her juft punishment; and be
A fcene of triumph and revenge to me,
As in this grove I took my laft farewel,
As on this very spot of earth I fell,
As Friday faw me die, fo fhe my prey
Becomes ev'n here, on this revolving day.
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