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As o'er the hollow vaults we walk, *
A hundred echoes round us talk :

From hill to bill the voice is toff,

Rocks rebounding,

Caves resounding,
Not a single word is loft.

There gentle Rofamond immured
Lives from the world and you secured.

Curse on the name! I faint, I die,
With secret pangs of jealousy -

PAGE, There does the pensive beauty mourn, And languish for her Lord's return.

QUEEN Death and confusion! I'm too flowShow me the happy mansion, show

PA G E. Great Henry there

Trifler, no more!

Great Henry there
Will soon forget the toils of war.

No more! the happy mansion show
That holds this lovely guilty foe.


* Alluding to the famous echo in Woodstock-Park.


My wrath, like that of heav'n, thall rise,
And blaft her in her paradise.

Bebold on yonder rising ground

The bower, that wander's
In meanders,
Ever bending,
Never ending,
Glades on Glades,

Shades on sbades,
Running an eternal round.

In such an endless maze I rove,
Loft in labyrinths of love.

My breast with hoarded vengeance burns,
While fear and rage
With hope engage,
And rule my wav'ring foul by turns.

The path yon verdant field divides,
Which to the foft confinement guides,

Eleonora, think betimes,
What are thy hated rival's crimes !
Whither, ah whither dost thou go!
What has she done to move thee fo !
Does she not warm with guilty fire
The faithless Lord of my desire ?
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Have not her fatal arts remov'd
My Henry from my arms?

'Tis her crime to be lov'd,
'Tis her crime to have charms.
Let us fly, let us fly,

She shall die, she shall die.
1 feel, I feel my heart relent:
How could the fair be innocent !

To a monarch like mine,
Who would not resign!
One so great and fo brave
All hearts must enslave.

P A G E.
Hark, bark! what sound invades my ear?
The conqueror's approach I hear.

He comes, viltorious Henry comes !
Hautloys, trumpets, fifes and drums,
In dreadful concert join'd,

Send from afar

A found of war,
And fill with borror ev'ry mind.

Henry returns from danger free!
Henry returns!

but not to me.
He comes his Rosamond to greet,
And lay his laurels at her feet,
His vows impatient to renew ;
His vows, to Eleonora due.

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Here shall the happy nympii'd til,
(While of his absence I compl:)
Hid in her mazy, wanton bower,
My lord, my life, my conqueror.

No, no, 'tis decreed
The traitre/s fall bleed;
No fear shall alarm,
No pity difarm ;
In my rage fball be seen
The revenge of a Queen.

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Sir TRUSTY, Knight of the Bower, folur.

How happy is he,
That is ty'd to a she,

And fam'd for his wit and his beauty!
For of us pretty fellows
Our wives are so jealous,

They ne'er have enough of our duty.
But hah! my limbs begin to quiver,
I glow, I burn, I freeze, I fhiver ;

Whence rises this conyulsive strife?

I smell a shrew !
My fears are true,
I see my wife.





GRID E L I N E. Faithless varlet, art thou there?

Sir T RUS T r. My love; my dove, my charming fair !

GRID ELIN E. Monster, thy wheedling tricks I know.

Sir T RUST Y. Why wilt thou call thy turtle fo?

GR I DELI N E. Cheat me not with false caresses.

Sir TRUST Y. Let me stop thy mouth with kisses.

GRIDELINE. Those to fair Rofamond are due.

Sir TRUST Y. She is not half so fair as you.

GRIDELINE. She views thee with a lover's eye.

Sir T RUSTY I'll be thine, and let her die.

GRID E L I N E. No, no, 'tis plain. Thy frauds I see, Traitor to thy King and ine!

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