For this, the had distill'd with early care,
The juice of fimples friendly to despair,
A magazine of death, and thus prepar'd,
Secure to die, the fatal message heard:
Then smil'd severe; nor with a troubled look,
Or trembling hand the fun'ral present took:
Ev'n kept her count'nance, when the lid remov'd
Disclos'd the heart, unfortunately lov'd;
She needed not be told, within whose breast
It lodg'd; the message had explain'd the rest.
Or not amaz'd, or hiding her furprize,
She sternly on the bearer fix'd her eyes:
Then thus; Tell Tancred, on his daughter's part,
The gold, tho' precious, equals not the heart:
But he did well to give his best; and I,
Who wish'd a worthier urn, forgive his poverty.
At this she curb'd a groan, that else had come,
And pausing, view'd the present in the tomb;
Then, to the heart ador'd devoutly glew'd
Her lips, and raising it, her speech renew'd:
Ev'n from my day of birth, to this, the bound
Of my unhappy being, I have found
My father's care and tenderness express'd;
But this last act of love excels the rest:
For this so dear a present, bear him back
The best return that I can live to make.

The messenger dispatch'd, again she view'd
The lov'd remains, and fighing thus purfu'd:
Source of my life, and lord of my defires,
In whom I liv'd, with whom my foul expires,
Poor heart, no more the spring of vital heat,
Curs'd be the hands that tore thee from thy feat!
The course is finish'd which thy fates decreed,
And thou from thy corporeal prifon freed:
Soon haft thou reach'd the goal with mended pace,
A world of woes dispatch'd in little space;

M 2

Forc'd

Forc'd by thy worth, thy foe, in death become
Thy friend, has lodg'd thee in a costly tomb.
There yet remain'd thy fun'ral exequies,
The weeping tribute of thy widow's eyes,
And those, indulgent heav'n has found the way
That I, before my death, have leave to pay.
My father ev'n in cruelty is kind,
Or heav'n has turn'd the malice of his mind
To better uses than his hate design'd;
And made th' insult which in his gift appears,
The means to mourn thee with my pious tears;
Which I will pay thee down, before I go,
And save myself the pains to weep below,
If souls can weep; tho' once I meant to meet
My fate with face unmov'd, and eyes unwet,
Yet fince 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 unexplor'd, secure to share
Thy state; nor hell shall punishment appear;
And heav'n, is double heav'n, if thou art there.

She said: her brimful eyes, that ready stood,
And only wanted will to keep a flood,
Releas'd their watry store, and pour'd amain,
Like clouds low hung, a sober show'r of rain;
Mute folemn forrow, 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 apply'd
To the cold heart,) she kiss'd at once, and cry'd.
Her maids, who stood amaz'd, 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

And oft enquir'd th' occasion of her grief,
(Unanswer'd but by fighs) and offer'd vain relief.
At length, her stock of tears already shed,
She wip'd her eyes, she rais'd her drooping head,
And thus pursu'd: O ever faithful heart,
I have perform'd the ceremonial part,
The decencies of grief; it rests behind,
That as our bodies were, our fouls 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 medicinable bane,
'The heart, her tears had rins'd, she bath'd again;
Then down her throat the death securely throws,
And quaffs a long oblivion of her woes.

This done, the mounts the genial bed, and there
(Her body first compos'd with honeft care)
Attends the welcome rest; her hands yet hold
Close to her heart the monumental gold;
Nor farther word she spoke, but clos'd her fight,
And quiet fought the covert of the night.
The damsels, who the while in filence mourn'd,
Not knowing, nor suspecting death suborn'd,
Yet, as their duty was, to Tancred sent;
Who, confcious of th' occafion, fear'd th' event,
Alarm'd, and with presaging heart, he came,
And drew the curtains, and expos'd the dame
To lothsome 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, unfought by me,
And forrow unavailing now to thee:
Did ever man before afflict his mind,

To see th' effect of what himself design'd

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

The prince's anguish hinder'd his reply:
And she, who felt her fate approaching nigh,
Seiz'd 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 the for disobedience justly dy'd:
The fire was justly punish'd for his pride:
The youth, least guilty, suffer'd for th' offence,
Of duty violated to his prince;
Who late repenting of his cruel deed,
One common sepulchre for both decreed;
Intomb'd the wretched pair in royal state,
And on their monument inscrib'd their fate.

}

THEODORE

AND

HONORIA.

F all the cities

in Romanian lands,
The chief, and most renown'd, Ravenna stands,

Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts,
And rich inhabitants, with gen'rous hearts.
But Theodore the brave, above the reft,
With gifts of fortune and of nature bless'd,
The foremost place for wealth and honour held,
And all in feats of chivalry excell'd.

This noble youth to madness lov'd a dame,
Of high degree, Honoria was her name;
Fair as the fairest, but of haughty mind,
And fiercer than became so soft a kind,
Proud of her birth; (for equal she had none;)
The rest she scorn'd; but hated him alone,
His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd;
For the, the more he lov'd, the more disdain'd.
He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,
At tilts and tournaments obtain'd the prize;
But found no favour in his lady's eyes:

}

Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid,

Turn'd all to poison, that he did or faid:
Nor pray'rs, nor tears, nor offer'd vows, could move;
The work went backward; and the more he strove

T' advance his fuit, the farther from her love.

}

Weary'd at length, and wanting remedy, He doubted oft, and oft refolv'd to die.