But say, what Tyranny can reach the Soul?
What Terrors shake her, or what Force control ?
Immortal as the Pow'r from whence she springs,
Sick of her home, she mounts on Fancy's wings,
With inborn Freedom nourish'd, spurns her chains,
And roves unbounded thro' ideal scenes!
Ideal joys are all I now have left,
Of Thee,- —a Crown,—and Liberty bereft ;
Torn from the pleasures of domestic life,
From each fond rapture of a virtuous Wife:
By all Hope here forsaken!-'tis in vain
That Reason whispers I should not complain :
A sigh will heave, in spite of all my pow'rs;
And sighs are due to miseries like ours.
Ha! meet no more!How cruel the decree!-
Heart-rending sentence ! No.
Down prison walls, each obstacle remove,
And let me clasp once more the Man I love!
One parting look a wretched Wife desires;
One parting kiss the seal of Death requires!
And is there none to plead th' Unhappy's suit ?.
-All ears are deaf, and ev'ry tongue is mute !-
Then, come the worst-Yet, howsoe'er distrest,
Still shall thy Image live within my breast;
My senses still that object shall pursue,
And each fond wish be offer'd up for You.
Tho', all unfeeling for this bleeding heart,
Our Foes dismiss to Heav'n thy nobler part,
Deep in the dust thy injur'd form I'll trace,
And grudge th' unconscious grave its cold embrace.
But hold thy hand, presumptuous Woman, hold;
Too warm thy passion, as thy pen too bold.
Far other thoughts the present hour demands,
Lo! at my side the shadowy Monarch stands ;
Aid me, great Teacher, this hard conflict end,
Tho' King of Terrors call'd, I'll hail thee Friend!
Since thou alone portray'st to mortal eyes
How weak, how baseless are the joys we prize:
Thou mock'st our useless toils, our mimic state,
And warn'st a brother, by a brother's fate!
Thy moral then shall not be lost on me,
Convinc'd, my Soul approves the just decree;
And unrepining quits this scene of strife,
Which points thro' Virtue to a happier Life.
The Priest this morn, with every art endu'd, Th' accursed purpose hath again renew'd ; "Be ours," he cries, "our better faith embrace, "And live preserver of your falling race. "Tho' yet misled, stand forth the child of ROME, "The Queen, in mercy, will avert your doom." Merciful Queen !——Yet since thus greatly kind, Tell us what mercy shall th' Apostate find? Thy royal mandate may decide our fates, But Peace alone on conscious duty waits;
Who wars against it, does the work of hell,
And arms a Daemon he can never quell;
Whose shafts receiv'd, search the wide globe around, Nor herb, nor balsam heals the fatal wound.
Bear back, false WINCHESTER, thy proffer'd bliss, Weigh crowns and kingdoms with a deed like this,
Far, far too light in Wisdom's eye they seem,
Nor shake the scale, while Reason holds the beam.-
And can she, GUILFORD, deem me sunk so low,
So fondly wedded to this world of woe,
To think her bounty would my fears entice
To purchase fleeting breath at such a price?
Which when obtain'd, the poor precarious toy
A thousand ills might weaken, or destroy?
No-Since I'm sworn a sister to Mischance,
Let the clouds gather, let the storm advance,
Unmov'd, its bursting horrors I'll defy,
And steady to my faith a Martyr die.
For Life's, alas! too like the transient rose,
Which oft is blasted the same day it blows;
Its beauty from the wind a blight receives,
Or some foul canker taints its crimson leaves !
Nor judge it hard to fall an early flow'r,
Rescu'd perchance from some tempestuous shower,
From noxious vapors arm'd with force to kill,
The noontide sunbeam, or the ev'ning's chill.
Howe'er the thought appal, Death's gloomy road
By ev'ry mortal foot must once be trod!
Deep thro' the Vale of Tears man's journey lies,
And sorrow best prepares him for the skies!-
O then, my Husband, I conjure thee, hear,
If SUFFOLK's Daughter e'er to Thee was dear,
By ev'ry wish of happiness to come,
By ev'ry hope beyond the mould'ring tomb;
If anxious that thy better fame should soar,
And shine applauded when the Man's no more:
Let not the wily Churchman win thine ear,
Or sooth thy weakness by his fraudful care ;
But arm'd with Constancy's unfailing shield,
As God's own soldier valiant, scorn to yield.
So when Religion, stript of each disguise,
In ancient purity again shall rise,
To her true throne once more shall be restor❜d,
And rule by Reason, stronger than the Sword,
Posterity our merits may attest,
And our fair deeds by all good men be blest.
In distant times, then shall old people tell
How firmly GUILFORD and his Consort fell.
To all their list'ning family relate,
How our faith triumph'd, though our woes were great.
Then shall each youth and maid our names re
Grace our sad story with a gen'rous tear,
And give our dust this Requiem with a sigh,
"Peace guard the shrine where Virtue's Children
O THOU SUPREME, on whom we all depend, Our common Parent, and our common Friend, Who deign'st to watch us from thy distant skies, Bidding the pray'rs of humbled suff'rers rise, Ruler of Heav'n, stretch forth thy mighty hand, And save from civil rage my native land. Let ROME's ambitious sons no more prevail, Blast all their hopes, and let their counsels fail. Raise up some Prince to perfect that great plan Thy servant EDWARD (under Thee) began; That Error's clouds dispers'd, may ne'er return, And thy pure light with fires rekindled burn. So, Peace, sad fugitive, again shall smile, And fix her dwelling on this prosper'd Isle.Whilst for myself one only boon I crave, Support that fortitude thy Mercy gave; The heart thou mad'st, preserve severely just Firm in its fate, and steady to its trust. There, whilst it beats, thy praise shall ever reign, Live, whilst it lives, and flow in ev'ry vein :
Praise the sole tribute I have left to give,
Nay, all a GOD from Mortals can receive.
Come then, my Lord, my Husband, and my Love, (For Death alone those titles shall remove) With decent courage meet thy certain doom, Nor shrink with horror at the op'ning tomb. What from the grave can virtue have to fear? 'Tis peace, 'tis refuge from the worst despair;
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