A groveling infect still; and so design'd
By nature's hand, nor born of noble kind :
A thing, by neither man nor woman priz'd,
And fcarcely known enough to be despis'd.
To what has heaven referv'd my age? Ah! why
Should man, when nature calls, not chufe to die,
Rather than ftretch the fpan of life, to find
Such ills as fate has wifely caft behind,
For thofe to feel, whom fond defire to live
Makes covetous of more than life can give !
Each has his share of good; and when 'tis gone,
The gueft, though hungry, cannot rise too soon.
But I, expecting more, in my own wrong
Protracting life, have liv'd a day too long.
If yesterday could be recall'd again,
Ev'n now would I conclude my happy reign;
But 'tis too late, my glorious race is run,
And a dark cloud o'ertakes my fetting fun.
Had'st thou not lov'd, or loving fav'd the shame,
If not the fin, by fome illuftrious name,
This little comfort had reliev'd my mind,
'Twas frailty, not unuiual to thy kind :
But thy low fall beneath thy royal blood
Shews downward appetite to mix with mud :
Thus not the leaft excufe is left for thee,
Nor the leaft refuge for unhappy me.
For him I have refolv'd: whom by furprize
I took, and scarce can call it, in difguife;
For fuch was his attire, as, with intent
Of nature, fuited to his mean defcent:
The harder queftion yet remains behind,
What pains a parent and a prince can find
To punish an offence of this degenerate kind.
As I have lov'd, and yet I love thee more
Than ever father lov'd a child before;
So that indulgence draws me to forgive :
Nature, that gave thee life, would have thee live:
But, as a public parent of the ftate,
My juftice, and thy crime, requires thy fate.
Fain would I chufe a middle course to steer;
Nature's too kind, and juftice too fevere :
Speak for us both, and to the balance bring
On either fide the father and the king.
Heaven knows, my heart is bent to favour thee;
Make it but fcanty weight, and leave the reft to me.
Here ftopping with a figh, he pour'd a flood
Of tears, to make his laft expreffion good.
She, who had heard him speak, nor faw alone
The fecret conduct of her love was known,
But he was taken who her foul poffefs'd,
Felt all the pangs of forrow in her breast :
And little wanted, but a woman's heart,
With cries and tears had teftified her finart,
But inborn worth, that fortune can control,
New trung and ftiffer bent her fofter foul;
The heroine affum'd the woman's place,
Confirm'd her mind, and fortify'd her face:
Why should the beg, or what could fhe pretend,
When her ftern father had condemn'd her friend?
Her life the might have had; but her despair
Of faving his, had put it paft her care;
Refolv'd on fate fhe, would not lose her breath,
But, rather than not die, folicit death.
Fix'd on this thought, fhe, not as women use,
Her fault by common frailty would excuse;
But boldly justify'd her innocence,
And while the fact was own'd, deny'd th' offence:
Then with dry eyes, and with an open look,
She met his glance mid-way, and thus undaunted
Tancred, I neither am dispos'd to make
Request for life, nor offer'd life to take;
Much lefs deny the deed; but least of all
Beneath pretended juftice weakly fall.
My words to facred truth fhall be confin'd,
My deeds fhall fhew the greatness of my mind.
That I have lov'd, I own; that still I love,
I call to witnefs all the powers
above:
Yet more I own: to Guifcard's love I give
The fmall remaining time I have to live;
And if beyond this life defire can be,
Not fate itself shall fet my paffion free.
This first avow'd; nor folly warp'd my mind,
Nor the frail texture of the female kind
Betray'd my virtue: for, too well I knew
What honour was, and honour had his due :
Before the holy priest my vows were ty'd,
So came I not a ftrumpet, but a bride.
This for my fame, and for the public voice :
Yet more, his merits juftify'd my choice :
Which had they not, the first election thine,
That bond diffolv'd, the next is freely mine;
Or grant I err'd, (which yet I must deny)
Had parents power ev'n fecond vows to tie,
Thy little care to mend my widow'd nights,
Has forc'd me to recourse of marriage rites,
To fill an empty fide, and follow known delights.
What have I done in this, deferving blame?
State-laws may alter: nature's are the fame;
Those are ufurp'd on helpless woman-kind,
Made without our confent, and wanting power to bind.
Thou, Tancred, better shouldft have understood,
That as thy father gave thee flesh and blood,
So gav'ft thou me: not from the quarry hew'd,
But of a fofter mould, with fenfe endued;
Ev'n fofter than thy own, of fuppler kind,
More exquifite of taste, and more than man refin’d.
Nor need'st thou by thy daughter to be told,
Though now thy fpritely blood with age be cold,
Thou hast been young: and canst remember still,
That when thou hadst the power, thou hadft the will;
And from the paft experience of thy fires,
Canft tell with what a tide our strong defires
Come rufhing on in youth, and what their rage re-
And grant thy youth was exercis'd in arms, When love no leifure found for fofter charms,
My tender age in luxury was train'd,
With idle eafe and pageants entertain'd;
My hours my own, my pleasures unrestrain'd.
So bred, no wonder if I took the bent
That feem'd ev'n warranted by thy confent;
For, when the father is too fondly kind,
Such feed he fows, fuch harvest shall he find.
Blame then thyfelf, as reafon's law requires,
(Since nature gave, and thou foment'st, my fires);
If till thofe appetites continue strong,
Thou may'ft consider I am yet but young :
Confider too that, having been a wife,
I must have tafted of a better life;
And am not to be blam'd, if I renew
By lawful means the joys which then I knew.
Where was the crime, if pleafure I procur'd,
Young, and a woman, and to blifs inur'd!
That was my cafe, and this is my defence :
I pleas'd myself, I fhunn'd incontinence,
And, urg'd by ftrong defires, indulg'd my fenfe.
Left to myself, I must avow, I ftrove
From public fhaine, to fcreen my fecret love,
And, well acquainted with thy native pride,
Endeavour'd what I could not help, to hide;
For which a woman's wit an easy way fupply'd.
How this, fo well contriv'd, fo clofely laid,
Was known to thee, or by what chance betray'd,
Is not my care; to please thy pride alone,
I could have wifh'd it had been still unknown.
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