O Theodora! who thy world of charms,

That foul of fweetnefs, that foft glow of youth,
Warm on thy cheek, and beaming from thine eye, 105
Unmov'd could fee that dignity of ease,

That grace of air, by happy nature thine !
For all in thee was native; from within
Spontaneous flowing, as fome equal stream
From its unfailing fource! and then too feen
In milder lights; by forrow's fhading hand
Touch'd into power more exquifitely soft,
By tears adorn'd, intender'd by diftrefs.

O fweetness without name! when Love looks on
With Pity's melting eye, that to the foul
Endears, ennobles her, whom fate afflicts,
Or fortune leaves unhappy! Passion then
Refines to Virtue: then a purer train
Of heaven-infpir'd emotions, undebas'd
By felf-regard, or thought of due return,
The breast expanding, all its powers exalt
To emulate what reafon beft conceives
Of love celeftial; whose prevenient aid
Forbids approaching ill; or gracious draws,
When the lone heart with anguish inly bleeds,
From pain its fting, its bitterness from woe!

By this plain courtship of the honest heart
To pity mov'd, at length my pleaded vows
The gentle maid with unreluctant ear

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Would oft admit; would oft endearing crown

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With fmiles of kind affent, with looks that spoke,

In blushing softness, her chafte bofom touch'd

Το

To mutual love. O fortune's faireft hour!
O feen, but not enjoy'd, juft hail'd and lost
Its flattering brightnefs! Theodora's form,
Event unfear'd had caught Rolando's eye:
And Love, if wild Defire, of Fancy born,
By furious paffions nurs'd, that facred name
Profanes not, Love his ftubborn breast diffolv'd

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To tranfient goodness. But my thought shrinks back, Reluctant to proceed: and filial awe,

With pious hand, would o'er a parent's crime

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The veil of filence and oblivious night

Permitted throw. His impious fuit repell'd,
Aw'd from her eye, and from her lip fevere

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Dash'd with indignant fcorn; each harbour'd thought
Of foft emotion or of focial fenfe,

Love, Pity, Kindness, alien to a foul
That Bigot-rage embofoms, fled at once:
And all the favage reaffum'd his breast.
'Tis juft, he cry'd: who thus invites disdain,
Deferves repulfe; he who, by flave-like arts,
Would meanly fteal what force may nobler take,
And, greatly daring, dignify the deed.

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When next we meet, our mutual blush to spare, 155 Thine from diffembling, from bafe flattery mine,

Shall be my care.

This threat, by brutal fcorn

Keen'd and embitter'd, terrible to both,

To one prov'd fatal. Silent-wafting grief,
The mortal worm that on Emilia's frame

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Had prey'd unfeen, now deep through all her powers Its poifon spread, and kill'd their vital growth.

Sickening,

Sickening, the funk beneath this double weight
Of fhame and horror.-Dare I yet proceed?
Aurelius, O moft injur'd of mankind!
Shall yet my tale, exafperating, add

To woe, new anguish? and to grief, despair-
She is no more-

O Providence fevere!

Aurelius fmote his breaft, and groaning cry'd;
But curb'd a fecond groan, repell'd the voice
Of froward grief: and to the Will fupreme,
In juftice awful, lowly bending his,

Nor figh, nor murmur, nor repining plaint,
By all the war of nature though assail'd,

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Efcap'd his lips. What! fhall we from heaven's grace
With life receiving happiness, our share
Of ill refufe? And are afflictions aught
But mercies in disguise? th' alternate cup,
Medicinal though bitter, and prepar'd
By Love's own hand for falutary ends.

But were they ills indeed; can fond Complaint
Arreft the wing of Time? Can Grief command
This noon-day fun to roll his flaming orb
Back to yon eaftern coaft, and bring again
The hours of yesterday? or from the womb
Of that unfounded deep the bury'd corfe
To light and life reftore? Bleft pair, farewell!
Yet, yet a few short days of erring grief,
Of human fondness fighing in the breast,
And forrow is no more. Now, gentle youth,
And let me call thee fon (for O that name

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Thy

Thy faith, thy friendship, thy true portion borne
Of pains for me, too fadly have deferv'd)

On with thy tale. 'Tis mine, when heaven afflicts, 195
To hearken and adore. The patient man
Thus fpoke: Amyntor thus his story clos'd.
As dumb with anguish round the bed of death
Weeping we knelt, to mine the faintly rais'd
Her clofing eyes; then fixing, in cold gaze,
On Theodora's face-O fave my child!
She faid; and, fhrinking from her pillow, flept
Without a groan, a pang, In hallow'd earth
I faw her shrouded; bade eternal peace

Her fhade receive, and, with the trueft tears
Affection ever wept, her duft bedew'd.

What then remain'd for honour or for love?
What, but that scene of violence to fly,
With guilt profan'd, and terrible with death,
Rolando's fatal roof. Late at the hour,
When shade and filence o'er this nether orb
With drowsieft influence reign, the waining moon
Afcending mournful in the midnight-sphere;
On that drear spot, within whofe cavern'd womb
Emilia fleeps, and by the turf that veils
Her honour'd clay, alone and kneeling there
I found my Theodora! thrill'd with awe,
With facred terror, which the time, the place,
Pour'd on us, fadly-folemn, I too bent
My trembling knee; and lock'd in her's
Acrofs her parent's grave. By this dread fcene!
By night's pale regent! By yon glorious train

my

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hand 220

Of

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Of ever-moving fires that round her burn!
By death's dark empire! by the fheeted duft
That once was man, now mouldering here below! 225
But chief by her's, at whofe nocturnal tomb,
Reverent we kneel! and by her nobler part,
Th' unibody'd spirit hovering near, perhaps,
As witnefs to our vows! nor time, nor chance,
Nor aught but death's inevitable hand,
Shall e'er divide our loves.-I led her thence:
To where, fafe-station'd in a secret bay,
Rough of defcent, and brown with pendent pines
That murmur'd to the gale, our bark was moor'd.
We fail'd-But, O my father; can I speak
What yet remains? yon ocean black with storm!
Its ufelefs fails rent from the groaning pine!
The fpeechless crew aghaft! and that loft fair!
Still, ftill I fee her! feel her heart pant thick!
And hear her voice, in ardent vows to heaven
For me alone prefer'd; as on my arm,
Expiring, finking with her fears the hung!
I kifs'd her pale cold cheek! with tears adjur'd,
And won at laft, with fums of profer'd gold,
The boldest mariners, this precious charge
Inftant to fave; and, in the fkiff fecur'd,
Their oars across the foamy flood to ply
With unremitting arm. I then prepar'd

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To follow her-That moment, from the deck,
A' fea fweil'd o'er, and plung'd me in the gulph. 250
Nor me alone its broad and billowing fweep
Must have involv'd her too. Mysterious heaven!

My