And charging her with great offence,

And many a grievous fault;

She bade her servants drag her thence,
Into a dismal vault,

That lay beneath the common-shore :
A dungeon dark and deep :

Where they were wont, in days of yore,
Offenders great to keep.

There never light of chearful day

Dispers'd the hideous gloom;

But dank and noisome vapours play
Around the wretched room:

And adders, snakes, and toads therein,
As afterwards was known,

Long in this loathsome vault had bin,
And were to monsters grown.

Into this foul and fearful place,

The fair one innocent

Was cast, before her lady's face;
Her malice to content.

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This maid no sooner enter'd is,
But strait, alas! she hears

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The toads to croak, and snakes to hiss:
Then grievously she fears.

Soon from their holes the vipers creep,
And fiercely her assail :

Which makes the damsel sorely weep,
And her sad fate bewail.

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With her fair hands she strives in vain
Her body to defend :

With shrieks and cries she doth complain,
But all is to no end.

A servant listning near the door,
Struck with her doleful noise,
Strait ran his lady to implore;
But she'll not hear his voice.

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With bleeding heart he goes agen
To mark the maiden's groans;
And plainly hears, within the den,
How she herself bemoans.

Again he to his lady hies

With all the haste he may : She into furious passion flies, And orders him away.

Still back again does he return

To hear her tender cries;

The virgin now had ceas'd to mourn;
Which fill'd him with surprize.

In grief, and horror, and affright,

He listens at the walls;

But finding all was silent quite,

He to his lady calls.

"Too sure, O lady," now quoth he,

"Your cruelty hath sped;

Make hast, for shame, and come and see;

I fear the virgin's dead."

She starts to hear her sudden fate,

And does with torches run:

But all her haste was now too late,
For death his worst had done.

The door being open'd strait they found
The virgin stretch'd along:

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Two dreadful snakes had wrapt her round,
Which her to death had stung.

One round her legs, her thighs, her wast
Had twin'd his fatal wreath :

The other close her neck embrac❜d,
And stopt her gentle breath.

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The snakes, being from her body thrust,
Their bellies were so fill'd,

That with excess of blood they burst,
Thus with their prey were kill'd.

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The wicked lady at this sight,

With horror strait ran mad;
So raving dy'd, as was most right,
'Cause she no pity had.

Let me advise you, ladies all,
Of jealousy beware:

It causeth many a one to fall,
And is the devil's snare.

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IX.

JEALOUSY TYRANT OF THE MIND.

THIS Song is by Dryden, being inserted in his Tragi-Comedy of "Love Triumphant," &c.-On account of the subject it is inserted here.

WHAT state of life can be so blest,

As love that warms the gentle brest ;
Two souls in one; the same desire
To grant the bliss, and to require ?
If in this heaven a hell we find,
'Tis all from thee,

O Jealousie !

Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.

All other ills, though sharp they prove,
Serve to refine and perfect love:

In absence, or unkind disdaine,
Sweet hope relieves the lovers paine :
But, oh, no cure but death we find
To sett us free

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False in thy glass all objects are,

Some sett too near, and some too far:

Thou art the fire of endless night,
The fire that burns, and gives no light.
All torments of the damn'd we find
In only thee,

O Jealousie ;

Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.

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X.

CONSTANT PENELOPE.

THE ladies are indebted for the following notable documents to the Pepys collection, where the original is preserved in blackletter, and is intitled, "A looking-glass for ladies, or a mirrour for married women. Tune Queen Dido, or Troy town."

WHEN Greeks and Trojans fell at strife,
And lords in armour bright were seen;

When many a gallant lost his life

About fair Hellen, beauty's queen;

Ulysses, general so free,

Did leave his dear Penelope.

When she this wofull news did hear,
That he would to the warrs of Troy ;

For grief she shed full many a tear,
At parting from her only joy;
Her ladies all about her came,
To comfort up this Grecian dame.

Ulysses, with a heavy heart,

Unto her then did mildly say,

"The time is come that we must part;

My honour calls me hence away;

Yet in my absence, dearest, be

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My constant wife, Penelope."

"Let me no longer live," she sayd,

"Then to my lord I true remain ;

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My honour shall not be betray'd
Until I see my love again;
For I will ever constant prove,
As is the loyal turtle-dove."

Thus did they part with heavy chear,
And to the ships his way he took;
Her tender eyes dropt many a tear;

Still casting many a longing look :
She saw him on the surges glide,
And unto Neptune thus she cry'd:

"Thou god, whose power is in the deep,
And rulest in the ocean main,
My loving lord in safety keep
Till he return to me again :
That I his person may behold,

To me more precious far than gold."

Then straight the ships with nimble sails
Were all convey'd out of her sight:

Her cruel fate she then bewails,

Since she had lost her hearts delight.

"Now shall my practice be," quoth she,
"True vertue and humility.

My patience I will put in ure,
My charity I will extend;
Since for my woe there is no cure,
The helpless now I will befriend :
The widow and the fatherless
I will relieve, when in distress."

Thus she continued year by year
In doing good to every one;
Her fame was noised every where,
To young and old the same was known,
That she no company would mind,
Who were to vanity inclin'd.

Mean while Ulysses fought for fame,
'Mongst Trojans hazarding his life :
Young gallants, hearing of her name,
Came flocking for to tempt his wife :

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