Then ftraight the fhips with nimble fails
Were all convey'd out of her fight:
Her cruel fate she then bewails,

Since she had lost her hearts delight.
Now fhall my practice be, quoth fhe,
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 fhe continued year by year

In doing good to every one;

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Her fame was noised every where,

To young and old the fame was known,

That she no company would mind,

Who were to vanity inclin❜d.

Mean while Ulyffes fought for fame,
'Mongft Trojans hazarding his life:
Young gallants, hearing of her name,

Came flocking for to tempt his wife:
For fhe was lovely, young, and fair,
No lady might with her compare.

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60

With

With coftly gifts and jewels fine,

They did endeavour her to win;

With banquets and the choiceft wine,

For to allure her unto fin:

Most persons were of high degree,

Who courted fair Penelope.

With modefty and comely grace,
Their wanton fuits she did denye;
No tempting charms could e'er deface

Her dearest husband's memorye;
But constant she would still remain,
Hopeing to fee him once again.

Her book her dayly comfort was,
And that the often did peruse;
She feldom looked in her glafs;

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Powder and paint fhe ne'er would use.

I wish all ladies were as free

From pride, as was Penelope.

She in her needle took delight,
And likewife in her spinning-wheel;

Her maids about her every night

Did ufe the distaff, and the reel :

The spiders, that on rafters twine,
Scarce spin a thread more soft and fine.

Sometimes fhe would bewail the lofs

And abfence of her dearest love:
Sometimes the thought the feas to cross,
Her fortune on the waves to prove.

I fear my lord is flain, quoth fhe,
He stays fo from Penelope.

At length the ten years fiege of Troy

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90

Did end; in flames the city burn'd;

And to the Grecians was great joy,

To fee the towers to afbes turn'd:

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3

Then came Ulyffes home to fee
His conftant, dear, Penelope.

O blame her not if she was glad,
When the her lord again had seen.
Thrice-welcome home, my dear, she said,

A long time abient thou hast been:
The wars fhall never more deprive
Me of my lord whilst I'm alive.

Fair ladies all example take;

And hence a worthy leffon learn,

All youthful follies to forfake,

And vice from virtue to discern:
And let all women strive to be,
As conftant as Penelope.

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XI.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.

By Col. Richard Lovelace: from the volume of his poems, intitled, "Lucafta, Lond. 1649.” 12m0. The elegance of this writer's manner would be more admired, if it had fomewhat more of fimplicity.

ELL me not, fweet, I am unkinde,

TE

That from the nunnerie

Of thy chate breast and quiet minde,

To warre and armes I flie.

True, a new mistreffe now I chase,

The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith imbrace
A fword, a horse, a fhield.

Yet this inconftancy is fuch,
As you too fhall adore;

I could not love thee, deare, fo much,
Lov'd I not honour more.

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XII.

VALENTINE AND URSINE.

The old fory-book of Valentine and Orfon (which fuggefted the plan of this tale, but it is not ftrictly followed in it) was originally a tranflation from the French, being one of their earliest attempts at romance. See "Le Bibliotheque "de Romans, &c."

The circumftance of the bridge of bells is taken from the old metrical legend of Sir Bevis, and has also been copied in the Seven Champions. The original lines are,

"Over the ayke a bridge there lay,

"That man and beeft might paffe away:
"Under the brydge were fixty belles ;
"Right as the Romans telles;
"That there might no man passe in,
"But all they rang with a gyn."

Sign. E. iv. In the Editor's folio MS. was an old Poem on this fubject, in a wretched corrupt fate, unworthy the prefs: from which were taken fuch particulars as could be adopted.

WH

PART THE FIRST.

HEN Flora 'gins to decke the fields
With colours fresh and fine,

Then holy clerkes their mattins fing
To good Saint Valentine!

The