Adorn'd the woman. My imperfect strain
Can ill defcribe the tranfport Junio felt
At this difcovery: he declar'd his love; She own'd his merit, nor refus'd his hand.
And shall not Hymen light his brightest torch For this delighted pair? Ah, Junio knew His fire detefted his Theana's house!- Thus duty, reverence, gratitude, confpir'd To check their happy union. He refolv'd (And many a figh that refolution cost) To pass the time, till death his fire remov❜d, In vifiting old Europe's letter'd climes : While fhe (and many a tear that parting drew) Embark'd, reluctant, for her native ifle.
Tho' learned, curious, and tho' nobly bent With each rare talent to adorn his mind, His native land to ferve; no joys he found. Yet fprightly Gaul; yet Belgium, Saturn's reign; Yet Greece, of old the feat of every Muse, Of freedom, courage; Yet Aufonia's clime, His steps explor'd, where painting, mufic's strains, Where arts, where laws, (philofophy's beft child) With rival beauties his attention claim'd. To his juft-judging, his inftructed eye, The all-perfect Medicean Venus feem'd A perfect femblance of his Indian fair : But when she spoke of love, her voice furpass'd The harmonious warblings of Italian fong.
Twice one long year elaps'd, when letters came, Which briefly told him of his father's death.
Afflicted, filial, yet to Heav'n refign'd,
Soon he reach'd Albion, and as soon embark'd,
Eager to clafp the object of his love.
Blow, profperous breezes; fwiftly fail, thou Po: Swift fail'd the Po, and happy breezes blew. In Bifcay's ftormy feas an armed fhip, Of force fuperior, from loud Charente's wave Clapt them on board. The frighted flying crew Their colours ftrike; when dauntlefs Junio, fir'd With noble indignation, kill'd the chief, Who on the bloody deck dealt flaughter round. The Gauls retreat; the Britons loud huzza; And touch'd with fhame, with emulation ftung, So plied their cannon, plied the miffile fires, That foon in air the hapless Thunderer blew.
Blow, profperous breezes; fwiftly fail, thou Po: May no more dangerous fights retard thy way !. Soon Porto Santo's rocky heights they 'spy, Like clouds dim rifing in the diftant sky. Glad Eurus whiftles, laugh the fportive crew; Each fail is fet to catch the favouring gale, While on the yard-arm the harpooner fits, Strikes the boneta, or the fhark infnares : The little nautilus, with purple pride Expands his fails, and dances o'er the waves: Small winged fishes on the shrouds alight; And beauteous dolphins gently play'd around. Tho' fafter than the Tropic-bird they flew, Oft Junio cried, Ah! when fhall we fee land! Soon land they made: and now in thought he clafp'd His Indian bride, and deem'd his toils o'erpaid. She, no less anxious, every evening walk'd
On the cool margin of the purple main,
Intent her Junio's veffel to defcry.
One eve (faint calms for many a day had rag'd) The winged Dæmons of the tempest rose ;
Thunder, and rain, and lightning's awful power She fled could innocence, could beauty claim Exemption from the grave; the ethereal bolt, That stretch'd her speechless, o'er her lovely head "Had innocently roll'd.
Meanwhile, impatient Junio leap'd afhore, Regardless of the Dæmons of the storm.
Ah, youth! what woes, too great for man to bear, Are ready to burst on thee? Urge not so Thy flying courfer. Soon Theana's porch Receiv'd him ; at his fight, the ancient slaves Affrighted fhriek, and to the chamber point :- Confounded, yet unknowing what they meant, He enter'd hafty-
Ah! what a fight for one who lov'd so well! All pale and cold, in every feature death, Theana lay; and yet a glimpse of joy
Play'd on her face, while with faint faltering voice, She thus addrefs'd the youth, whom yet she knew : "Welcome, my Junio, to thy native fhore! "Thy fight repays this fummons of my fate : “Live, and live happy; fometimes think of me: "By night, by day, you still engag'd my care ; "And, next to God, you now my thoughts employ: Accept of thisMy little all I give ;
Would it were larger”. Nature could no more; She look'd, embraced him, with a groan expir'd, But fay, what ftrains, what language can express-
The thousand pangs, which tore the lover's breast? Upon her breathlefs corfe himself he threw, And to her clay-cold lips, with trembling hafte, Ten thousand kiffes gave. Heftrove to speak Nor words he found: he claspt her in his arms; He figh'd, he fwoon'd, look'd up, and died away. One grave contains this haplefs, faithful pair ; And ftill the Cane-ifles tell their matchlefs love!
ΤΟ LORD RANDOLPH.
Y name is NORVAL: on the Grampian hills My father feeds his flock; a frugal fwain, Whose constant cares were to increase his store, And keep his only fon, myself, at home. For I had heard of battles, and I long'd
To follow to the field some warlike lord ; And Heaven foon granted what my fire denied. This moon, which rose last night round as my fhield Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her light, A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills, Rufh'd like a torrent down upon the vale, Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled For fafety, and for fuccour. I alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd
The road he took, then hafted to my Whom, with a troop of fifty chofen men, I met advancing. The purfuit I led, Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe,
We fought and conquer'd. Ere a fword was drawn, An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief, Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. Returning home in triumph, I difdain'd The shepherd's flothful life; and having heard That our good king had fummon'd his bold peers To lead their warriors to the Carron fide,
my father's house, and took with me A chofen fervant to conduct my fteps: Yon trembling coward, who forfook his master. Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers, And, Heaven-directed, came this day to do The happy deed that gilds my humble name.
OST potent, grave, and reverend Signiors, My very noble and approv'd good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent; no more. And little blefs'd with the set phrase of peace ; For fince these arms of mine had feven years pith, Till now fome nine moons wasted, they have us'd Their deareft action in the tented field; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broils and battle; And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In fpeaking for myself. Yet, by your patience, D 6
« PreviousContinue » |