The sleep of death benumbs all o'er
My fainting limbs, and I'm no more.

QUEEN. J

[Falls on the couch.

Hear, and observe your queen's commands.
anda buTo her attendants.
Beneath those hills a convent stands,!
Where the fam'd streams of Isis stray;
Thither the breathless corse convey,
And bid the cloister'd maids with care
The due solemnities prepare.

3

of Exeunt with the body. "When vanquish'd foes beneath us lie How great it is to bid them die!:

But how much greater to forgive,

And bid a vanquish'd foe to live!ldo [Exit.

IT

SCENE VII.

SIR TRUSTY in a fright.

A breathless corpse! what have I seen!
And follow'd by the jealous queen!
It must be she! my fears are true:
The bowl of pois'nous juice I view.
How can the fam'd Sir Trusty live
To hear his master chide and grieve?
No! though I hate such bitter beer,

Fair Rosamond, I'll pledge thee here. [Drinks.
The king this doleful news shall read

In lines of my inditing:

'Great Sir,

Your Rosamond is dead

'As I am at this present writing.

[Writes.

"The bower turns round, my brain's abus'd,

The labyrinth grows more confus'd,

The thickets dance-I stretch, I yawn.

Death has tripp'd up my

heels-I'm gone.

[Staggers and falls.

SCENE VIII

QUEEN sola.

The conflict of my mind is o'er,
And Rosamond shall charm no more.
Hence ye secret damps of care,
Fierce disdain, and cold despair,
Hence ye fears and doubts remove
Hence grief and hate!

Ye pains that wait

On jealousy, the rage of love.

"My Henry shall be mine alone, The hero shall be all my own; Nobler joys possess my heart

Than crowns and sceptres can impart."

་་་

Scene a Grotto, Henry asleep, a cloud descends, in it two Angels, supposed to be the guardian Spirits of the British Kings in War and in Peace.

FIRST ANGEL.

BEHOLD th unhappy monarch there,
That claims our tutelary care!

SECOND ANGEL.

In fields of death around his head A
A shield of adamant I spread.

FIRST ANGEL.

In hours of peace, unseen, unknown,
I hover o'er the British throne.

SECOND ANGEL

When hosts of foes with foes engage,
And round the anointed hero rage,
The cleaving fauchion I misguide,
And turn the feather'd shaft aside.
FIRST ANGEL.

When dark fermenting factions swell,
And prompt th' ambitious to rebelpo
A thousand terrors I impart, ą
And damp the furious traitor's heart

BOTH.

T

But, oh! what influence can remove
The pangs of grief and rage of loveli sl.

SECOND ANGEL.

I'll fire his soul with mighty themes lode
Till love before ambition fly.

FIRST ANGEES",

I'll sooth his cares in pleasing dreams
Till grief in joyful raptures die.

SECOND ANGEL.

"Whatever glorious and renown'd
In British annals can be found;
Whatever actions shall adorn
Britannia's heroes, yet unborn,
In dreadful visions shall succeed;
On fancy'd fields the Gauls shall bleed,
Cressy shall stand before his eyes,
And Agincourt and Blenheim rise."

FIRST ANGEL.

See, see, he smiles amidst his trance,
And shakes a visionary lance,
His brain is fill'd with loud alarms;:
Shouting armies, clashing arms,
The softer prints of love deface;
And trumpets sound in ev'ry trace.

BOTH... 1

Glory strives!

The field is won! dek Fame revives,

And love is gone.

FIRST ANGEL.

To calm thy grief and lull thy cares,
Look up and see

What, after long revolving years,
Thy bower shall be!

When time its beauties shall deface,
And only with its ruins grace
The future prospect of the place.
Behold the glorious pile ascending*!
Columns swelling, arches bending,
Domes in awful pomp arising,
Art in curious strokes surprising,
Foes in figur'd fights contending,
Behold the glorious pile ascending
SECOND ANGEL. 9
He sees, he sees the great reward
For Anna's mighty chief prepar'd:

* Scene changes to the Plan of Blenheim Castle.

His growing joys no measure keep,
Too vehement and fierce for sleep.

FIRST ANGEL.

"Let grief and love at once engage,
His heart is proof to all their pain;
Love may plead

SECOND ANGEL.

And grief may rage

BOTH.

But both shall plead and rage in vain."
[The Angels ascend, and the vision disappears.

HENRY, starting from the couch.
Where have my ravish'd senses been!
What joys, what wonders, have I seen!
The scene yet stands before my eye,
A thousand glorious deeds that lie
In deep futurity obscure,

Fights and triumphs immature,

Heroes immers'd in time's dark womb,
Ripening for mighty years to come,
Break forth, and, to the day display'd,
My soft inglorious hours upbraid.
Transported with so bright a scheme,
My waking life appears a dream.

"Adieu, ye wanton shades and bowers,
Wreaths of myrtle, beds of flowers,
Rosy brakes,

Silver lakes,

To love and you
A long adieu!"

O Rosamond! O rising woe!
Why do my weeping eyes o'erflow?
O Rosamond! O fair distress'd!

How shall my heart, with grief oppress'd,
Its unrelenting purpose tell;

And take the long, the last farewel!