O, let him 'fcape; who ne'er can wrong thee more!
If he with circling nations could not stand
Against thee fingle; fingly, what can he,
When thou art tenc'd with nations?
Guf. Ha! that pofture!
Orife-furpriz'd, my eye perceiv'd it not.
* Criftina! thou all form'd for excellence!
I've much to fay, but that my tongue, my thoughts
Are troubled; warr'd on by unusual paffions.
'Twas hence thou had'ft it in thy power to afk,
'Ere I could offer-Come, my friend, affift,
Inftruct me to be grateful. O Cristina !
I fought for freedom, not for
crowns, thou fair
They fhall fit brighter on that beauteous head,
Whofe eye might awe the monarchs of the earth,
And light the world to virtue-My Arvida!
Ara. O great and good, and glorious to the la ft! I read thy foul, I fee the gen'rous conflict, And come to fix, not trouble thy repose. Cou'd you but know with what an eager I fprung to execute thy late commands; To fhield this lovely object of thy cares, And give her thus, all beauteous to thy eyes! For I've no blifs but thine, have loft the form Of ev'ry wish that's foreign to thy happiness. But, O, my King! my conqu'rer! my Guftavus! It grieves me much that thou must shortly mourn, Ev'n on the day in which thy country's freed. That crowns thy arms with conqueft and Cristina. Guf. Alas! your cheek is pale-You bleed, my broArv. I do indeed-to death.
Guf. You have undone me :
Rash, headstrong man! O was this well, Arvida?
Arv. Pardon, Guftavus! mine's the common lot,
The fate of thousands fall'n this day in battle.
I had refolv'd on life, to fee you blefs'd;
To fee my King and his Cristina happy.
Turn, thou beloved, thou honour'd next to heav'n!
And to thy arms receive a penitent,
Who never more fhall wrong thee.
Guf. O Arvida!
Friend! Friend!
[Turns and embraces him. Arv. Thy heart beats comfort to me! in this breast, Let thy Arvida, let thy friend survive.
O, ftrip his once lov'd image of its frailties,
And ftrip it too of ev'ry fonder thought,
That may give thee affliction- Do, Gustavus;
It is my laft request; for heav'n and thou
Art all the care and bufinefs-of Arvida.
Guf. Friend! brother! fpeak-He's gone-and here
That's left of him who was my life's beft treasure. [is all How art thou fall'n, thou greatly valiant man!
In ruin graceful, like the warrior spear
Tho' fhiver'd in the duft-fo fall Gustavus→→→
But thou art fped, haft reach'd the goal before me ;
And one light lapfe throughout thy courfe in virtue
Shews only thou wert man, ordain'd to strive,
But not attain perfection.-
Doft thou too weep? tranfcendent, lovelieft maid!
Pardon a heart o'ercharg'd with fwelling grief,
That in thy prefence will not be exil'd,
Tho' ev'ry joy dwells round thee.
A bofom pure like thine must foon regain
The heart-felt happiness that dwells with virtue;
And heav'n on all exterior circumftance
Shall pour the balm of peace, fhall pay thee back
The blifs of nations, breathing on thy head
The sweets that live within the pray'rs of foes
Subdued unto thy merits-fare, farewel!
Guf. Thou shalt not part, Cristina.
Guf. No, thou art all that's left to fweeten life, And reconcile the wearied to the world.
I am thy fuppliant in my turn-but O
My fuit is more, much more than life or empire,
Than man can merit, or worlds give without thee.
Criftina. Now aid me, aid me, all ye chafter pow'rs
That guard a woman's weakness ! 'tis refolv'd—
Thy own example charms thy fuit to filence.
Nor think alone to bear the palm of virtue,
Thou, who haft taught the world, when duty calls,
To throw the bar of ev'ry wish behind them.
Exalted in that thought, like thee I rife,
While ev'ry lefs'ning paffion finks beneath me.
Adieu, adieu, most honour'd, first of men,
I go, I part, I fly, but to deferve thee.
Guf. Yet flay-a moment-till my utt'ring heart
Pour forth in love, in wonder pour before thee.
Thou cruel excellence- Wou'dft thou too leave me?
Not if the heart, the arms of thy Gustavus
Have force to hold thee.
Criftina. O delightful notes!
That I do love thee, yes, 'tis true, my Lord,
The bond of virtue, friendship's facred tie,
The lover's pains, and all the fifter's fondness,
Mine has the flame of ev'ry love within it :
But I have a father, guilty if he be,
Yet is he old; if cruel, yet a father.
Abandon'd now by ev'ry fupple wretch
That fed his years with flattery. I am all
That's left to calm, to footh his troubled foul,
To penitence, to virtue; and perhaps
Restore the better empire o'er his mind,
True feat of all dominion-Yet, Guflavus,
Yet there are mightier reafons-O farewel!
Had I ne'er lov❜d I might have ftay'd with honour.
[Exit Guftavus looks after Cristina, then turns and looks on Arvida, -Anderson, Arnoldus, &c. advance.
And. Behold, my Lord, behold the fons of
Of triumph, turn'd to tears; while from that eye
All Sweden takes her fate; and fimiles around,
Or weeps with her Gustavus.
Arn. Wilt thou not cheer them, fay, thou great de
Siv. O General !
ift Dale. King!
2d Dale. Brother!
3d Dale. Father!
All. Friend!
Guf. Come, come, my brothers all, yes I will strive To be the fum of every title to you;
And you shall be my fire, my friend reviv'd,
My fifter, mother, all that's kind and dear,
For fo Guftavus holds ye- OI will
Of private paffions all my foul divest,
And take my dearer country to my breast.
To publick good transfer each fond defire,
And clafp my Sweden with a lover's fire.
Well pleas'd, the weight of all her burdens bear;
Difpenfe all pleasure, but engrofs all care.
Still quick to find, to feel my people's woes,
And wake that millions may enjoy repofe.
Intended for Mr. Wright, Mrs. Giffard, and Mrs. Clive.
WELL, Ladies, to the court your plea fubmit,
Box, Upper-Region, Gallery, and Pit.
Our poet, trembling for his firft effay,
Fear'd to difmifs you, tho' you fav'd his play.
Cry'd Nell (in pity for the bashful rogue)
• Give 'em a joke! a joke was once in vogue!
• Thus authors us'd, in lefs judicious times,
• When merry epilogues were thought no crimes.
That (faid Criftina) wou'd his ruin crown;
Nothing, but virtue, takes this virtuous town.
No! let his epilogue be clean and chafte.
This is the fenfe of ev'ry man of taste!·
High rofe the conflict in our room of ftate,
Where tragic Kings and Queens maintain debate;
When, lo! we heard, " 'your powers began to rife,”
Whofe horrid cat-call is our worst excife!
Our inmoft palace felt the loud diffention;
Where each new tragedy's a new convention.
Whence we determin'd without further pother,
To give you, of the one, and of the other.
Our author on the brave and chofte relies; He thinks, the virtuous are the only wife. And, if his mufe, with voice exalted, fings, Of camps and courts, of minifters and kings,
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