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The scatter'd features flid into decay,
And spreading circles drove his face away.

To touch the soft affections, and controul
The manly temper of the bravest soul,
What with afflicted beauty can compare,
And drops of love distilling from the fair ?
It melts us down ; our pains delight bestow ;
And we with fondness languish o'er our woe.

This GUILFORD prov'd; and, with excess of pain, And pleasure too, did to his bofom strain The weeping fair : Sunk deep in soft defire, Indulg'd his love, and nurs'd the raging fire : Then tore himself away; and, standing wide, As fearing a relapse of fondness, cry’d, With ill-dissembled grief; My life, forbear! “ You wound your GUILFORD with each cruel tear : “ Did you not chide my grief? Repress your own; « Nor want compassion for yourself alone: “ Have you beheld, how, from the distant main, “ The thronging waves roll on, a num'rous train, « And foam, and bellow, till they reach the shore; • There burft their noisy pride, and are no more? “ Thus the successive flows of human race, “ Chas’d by the coming, the preceding, chase;

They found, and swell, their haughty heads they rear; « Then fall, and flatten, break, and disappear. « Life is a forfeit we must shortly pay; “ And where's the mighty lucre of a day? Why should

you mourn my fate? 'Tis most unkind; Your own you bore with an unshaken mind : “ And which, can you imagine, was the dart « That drank most blood, sunk deepest in my heart ? « I cannot live without

doom “ I meet with joy, to share one common tomb.

you ;

and my

« And are again your tears profufely spilt !
« Oh! then, my kindness blackëns to my guilt ;
• It foils itself, if it recall your pain ;-
“ Life of my life, I beg you to refrain !
• The load which fate imposes, you increase ;
« And help Maria to destroy my peace.

But, oh! against himself his labour turn'd;
The more He comforted, the more She mourn'd:
Compassion swells our grief; words soft and kind
But footh our weakness, and diffolve the mind :
Her sorrow flow'd in streams ; nor Her's alone,
While That he blam'd, he yielded to his own.
Where are the smiles she wore, when she, so late,
Hail'd him great partner of the regal ftate;
When orient

gems around her temples blaz’d, And bending nations on the glory gaz'd?

'Tis now the Queen's command, they both retreat, To

weep with dignity, and mourn in state:
She forms the decent misery with joy,
And loads with pomp the wretch she would destroy.
A spacious hall is hung with black; all light
Shut out, and noon-day darken'd into night.
From the mid-roof a lamp depends on high,
Like a dim crescent in a clouded sky:
It sheds a quiv’ring melancholy gloom,
Which only shews the darkness of the room.
A shining ax is on the table laid ;
A dreadful light! and glitters through the shade.

In this sad scene the lovers are confin'd;
A scene of terrors, to a guilty mind !
A scene, that would have damp'd with rising cares,
And quite extinguish'd, every love but theirs.
What can they do? They fix their mournful eyes--
Then GUILFORD, thus abruptly; “ I despise

" An

“ An empire loft ; I fing away the crown ;
“ Numbers have laid that bright delusion down ;
« But where's the CHARLES, or Dioclesian where,
« Could quit the blooming, wedded, weeping fair ?
« Oh! to dwell ever on thy lip! to stand
“ In full possession of thy snowy hand !

And, thro’ th' unclouded chrystal of thine eye,
« The heav'nly treasures of thy mind to spy!
“ Till rapture reason happily destroys,
a And my soul wanders through immortal joys !
« Give me the world, and ask me, Where's

my

bliss ? « I clasp thee to my breast, and answer, This. « And shall the grave”-He groans, and can no more; But all her charms in silence traces o'er ; Her lip, her cheek, and eye, to wonder wrought; And, wond'ring, fees, in sad presaging thought, From that fair neck, that world of beauty fall, And roll along the dust, a ghastly ball!

Oh! let those tremble, who are greatly bless’d !
For who, but GUILFORD, could be thus distress'd ?
Come hither, all you Happy, all you Great,
From flow'ry meadows, and from rooms of state ;
Nor think I call, your pleasures to destroy,
But to refine, and to exalt your joy :
Weep not; but, smiling, fix your ardent care
On nobler titles than the Brave or Fair.

Was ever such a mournful, moving, fight?
See, if you can, by that dull, trembling, light:
Now they embrace; and, mix'd with bitter woe,
Like Isis and her Thames, one stream they flow :
Now they start wide ; fix'd in benumbing care,
They stiffen into ftatues of despair :
Now, tenderly severe, and fiercely kind,
They rush at once; they fling their cares behind,

And

And clasp, as if to death ; new vows repeat;
And, quite wrapp'd up in love, forget their fate.
A short delusion! for the raging pain
Returns; and their poor hearts must bleed again.

Mean time, the Queen new cruelty decreed;
But, ill content that they should only bleed,
A priest is sent; who, with insidious art,
Instills his poison into SUFFOLK's heart;
And GUILFORD drank it: Hanging on the breast,
He from his childhood was with Rome posseít.
When now the ministers of death draw nigh,
And in her dearest lord she first must die,
The subtle priest, who long had watch'd to find
The most unguarded passes of her mind,
Bespoke her thus : “ Grieve not ; 'tis in your pow'r
Your lord to rescue from this fatal hour."
Her bosom pants; she draws her breath with pain;
A sudden horror thrills through every vein ;
Life seems suspended, on his words intent;
And her soul trembles for the great event.

The priest proceeds : “ Embrace the faith of Rome,
“ And ward your own, your lord's, and father's doom.”
Ye blefied spirits ! now your charge sustain;
The past was ease ; now forft she suffers pain.
Muft she pronounce her father's death? must she
Bid Guilford bleed ? It must not, cannot, be.
It cannot be! But 'tis the Christian's praise,
Above impossibilities to raise
The weakness of our nature ; and deride
Of vain philosophy the boasted pride.
What though our feeble finews scarce impart
A moment's swiftness to the feather'd dart;
Though tainted air our vig'rous youth can break,
And a chill blast the hardy warrior fake,

Yet

Yet are we strong: Hear the loud tempest roar
From east to west, and call us weak no more ;
The lightning's unrefifted force proclaims
Our might; and thunders raise our humble names;
'Tis our JEHOVAH fills the heav'ns; as long
As He shall reign Almighty, We are strong:
We, by devotion, borrow from his throne ;
And almost make Omnipotence our own :
We force the gates of heav'n, by fervent pray'r;
And call forth triumph out of man's despair.

Our lovely mourner, kneeling, lifts her eyes
And bleeding heart, in filence, to the skies,
Devoutly fad-Then, bright'ning, like the day,
When sudden winds sweep scatter'd clouds away,
Shining in majesty, till now unknown,
And breathing life and spirit scarce her own;
She, rifing, speaks :

« If these the terms Here, GUILFORD, cruel GUILFORD, (barb'rous man! Is this thy love ?) as swift as light’ning ran; O'erwhelm'd her with tempestuous sorrow fraught, And Atifled, in its birth, the mighty thought; Then bursting fresh into a flood of tears, Fierce, resolute, delirious with his fears ; His fears for her alone : He beat his breast, And thus the fervour of his foul expreft : • O! let thy thought o'er our past converse rove, “ And shew one moment uninflam'd with love! « Oh! if thy kindness can no longer laft, « In pity to thyself, forget the paft! « Else wilt thou never, void of shame and fear, u Pronounce his doom, whom thou hast held so dear: « Thou who haft took me to thy arms, and swore Empires were vile, and Fate could give no more;

" That

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