THE

FORCE OF RELIGION;

OR,

VANQUISH'D LOVE.

BOOK I.

Ad cœlum ardentia lumina tollens,
Lumina; nam teneras arcebant vincula palmas. VIRG.

FROM lofty themes, from thoughts that soar'd on high,

And open'd wond'rous scenes above the sky,
My muse descend: Indulge my fond desire;
With softer thoughts my melting soul inspire,
And smooth my numbers to a female's praise :
A partial world will listen to my lays,
While ANNA reigns, and sets a female name
Unrival'd in the glorious lists of fame.

Hear, ye fair daughters of this happy land,
Whose radiant eyes the vanquish'd world command,
Virtue is Beauty: But when charms of mind
With elegance of outward form are join'd;

When youth makes such bright objects still more bright,

And fortune sets them in the strongest light; 'Tis all of heav'n that we below may view,

And all, but Adoration, is your due.

Fam'd female virtue did this isle adorn,

Ere Ormond, or her glorious QUEEN, was born:
When now Maria's pow'rful arms prevail'd,
And haughty DUDLEY'S bold ambition fail'd,
The beauteous daughter of great SUFFOLK's race,
In blooming youth adorn'd with every grace;
Who gain'd a crown by treason not her own,
And innocently fill'd another's throne;
Hurl'd from the summit of imperial state,
With equal mind sustain'd the stroke of fate.
But how will GUILFORD, her far dearer part,
With manly reason fortify his heart?
At once she longs, and is afraid, to know:
Now swift she moves, and now advances slow,
To find her lord; and, finding, passes by,
Silent with fear, nor dares she meet his

eye;

Lest that, unask'd, in speechless grief, disclose
The mournful secret of his inward woes.
Thus, after sickness, doubtful of her face,

The melancholy virgin shuns the glass.

At length, with troubled thought, but look serene, And sorrow soften'd by her heav'nly mien,

She clasps her lord, brave, beautiful, and young,
While tender accents melt upon her tongue;
Gentle, and sweet, as vernal Zephyr blows,
Fanning the lily, or the blooming rose.

"Grieve not, my lord; a crown indeed is lost "What far outshines a crown, we still

may boast;

"A mind compos'd; a mind that can disdain "A fruitless sorrow for a loss so vain.

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