Who crown'd mine humbleft fortune with her love?
Her fhall I leave, who now perchance alone
Climbs the proud cliff, and chides my flow return?
And shall that vessel, whofe approaching fails
Shall fwell her breast with extafies, convey
Death to her hopes, and anguish to her foul?
No! may the deep my villain-corie devour,
If all the wealth Iberian mines conceal,
If all the charms Iberian maids disclose,
If thine, Elvira, thine, uniting all!
Thus far prevail-nor can thy virtuous breast
Demand, what honour, faith, and love denies."
"Oh! happy fhe, rejoin'd the pensive maid,
Who fhares thy fame, thy virtue, and thy love!
And be the happy! thy distinguish'd choice
Declares her worth, and vindicates her claim.
Farewel my luckless hopes, my flattering dreams
Of rapturous days! my guilty fuit, farewel!
Yet, fond howe'er my plea, or deep the wound
That waits my fame, let not the random shaft
Of cenfure pierce with me th' Iberian dames :
They love with caution, and with happier stars.
And oh! by pity mov'd, restrain the taunts
Of levity, nor brand Elvira's flame;
By merit rais'd; by gratitude approv'd;
By hope confirm'd; with artless truth reveal'd;
Let, let me fay, but for one matchless maid
Of happier birth, with mutual ardor crown'd.
These radiant gems, which burnish happiness,
But mock misfortune, to thy favourite's hand
With care convey. And well may fuch adorn
Her chearful front, who finds in thee alone
The fource of every transport; 'but disgrace
My pensive breast, which doom'd to lafting woe,
In thee the fource of every bliss resigns.
And now farewel, thou darling youth! the gem
Of English merit! peace, content, and-joy,
And tender hopes, and young defires, farewel!
Attend, ye fimiling train, this gallant mind
Back to his native fhores; there sweetly smooth
His evening pillow; dance around his
groves;
And, where he treads, with violets paint his way.
But leave Elvira! leave her, now no more
Your frail companion! in the facred cells
Of fome lone cloifter let me fhroud my fhame:
There, to the matin bell, obfequious, pour
My constant orifons. The wanton Loves,
And gay Defires, fhall spy the glimmering towers,
And wing their flight aloof: but reft confirm'd,
That never fhall Elvira's tongue conclude
Her shortest prayer, ere Henry's dear fuccefs
The warmest accent of her zeal employ."
Thus fpoke the weeping fair, whofe artless mind
Impartial fcorn'd to model her esteem
By native customs; drefs, and face, and air,
And manners, lefs; nor yet refolv'd in vain.
He, bound by prior love, the folemn vow
Given and receiv'd, to foft compaffion gave
A tender tear; then with that kind adieu
Efteem could warrant, weary'd heaven with prayers;
To fhield that tender breaft he left forlorn.
He ceas'd, and to the cloister's pensive scene
Elvira fhap'd her folitary way.
"Auditæ voces, vagitus & ingens, Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo." VIRG.
ADVERTISEMENT.
What particulars in Spenfer were imagined moft proper for the Author's imitation on this occafion, are his language, his fimplicity, his manner of defcription, and a peculiar tenderness of fentiment remarkable throughout his works.
H me! full forely is my heart forlorn,
To think how modeft worth neglected lies;
While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn
Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp difguife;
Deeds of ill fort, and mifchievous emprize:
Lend me thy clarion, goddess! let me try
To found the praise of merit, ere it dies;
Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
Loft in the dreary shades of dull obscurity.
In every village mark'd with little spire,
Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to fame,
There dwells, in lowly fhed, and mean attire,
A matron old, whom we fchool-miftrefs name.;
Who boafts unruly brats with birch to tame;
They grieven fore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame;
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,
For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are forely fhent.
And all in fight doth rife a birchen tree,
Which learning near her little dome did stowe;
Whilom a twig of fmall regard to fee,
Though now fo wide its waving branches flow;
And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe;
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew,
But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulfe beat low;
And as they look'd they found their horror grew,
And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.
So have I feen (who has not, may conceive,)
A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd;
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,
Of sport, of fong, of pleafure, of repaft;
They start, they ftare, they wheel, they look aghast;
Sad fervitude! fuch comfortless annoy
May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste!
Ne fuperftition clog his dance of joy,
Ne vifionempty, vain, his native blifs deftroy.
Near to this dome is found a patch fo green,
On which the tribe their gamboles do difplay;
And at the door imprisoning board is seen,
Left weakly wights of fmaller fize fhould ftray;
Eager, perdie, to bafk in funny day!
The noifes intermix'd, which thence refound,
Do learning's little tenement betray :
Where fits the dame, difguis'd in look profound, And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.
Her cap, far whiter than the driven fnow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield: Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field: And in her hand, for fcepter, she does wield Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, With dark diftruft, and fad repentance fill'd; And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd, And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind.
Few but have ken'd, in femblance meet pourtray'd,
The childish faces of old Eol's train;
Libs, Notus, Auster: these in frowns array'd,
How then would fare or earth, or sky, or main,
Were the stern god to give his flaves the rein?
And were not she rebellious breasts to quell,
And were not she her statutes to maintain,
The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell.
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