In vain Tour Lord like young Vespasian mourn'd, A moft detefted Act of Gratitude: Ev'n this had been Tour Elegy, which now As once the Macedon, by Jove's Decree, Or by his middle Science did he steer, And far fome great contingent Good appear, } An Heir from You, who may redeem the failing Kind. Bless'd be the Pow'r which has at once reftor'd The Hopes of loft Succeffion to Your Lord, Joy to the first and last of each Degree, O Daughter of the Rofe, whofe Cheeks unite The diff'ring Titles of the Red and White; Who Heav'ns alternate Beauty well display, The Blush of Morning, and the Milky Way; Whofe Face is Paradife, but fenc'd from Sin: For God in either Eye has plac'd a Cherubin. M All is Tour Lord's alone; ev'n abfent, He The foft Receffes of Tour Hours improve PALA PALA MON AND ARCIT E: OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE. In THREE BOOKS. BOOK I. N Days of old, there liv'd, of mighty Fame A valiant Prince; and Thefeus was his Name: A Chief, who more in Feats of Arms excell'd The Rifing nor the Setting Sun beheld, B... Of Athens he was Lord; much Land he won, I pass their warlike Pomp, their proud Array, Way: But, were it not too long, I would recite The Feats of Amazons, the fatal Fight Betwixt the hardy Queen, and Heroe Knight. What Tilts and Turneys at the Feast were feen; With Oxen far unfit to draw the Plow: The Remnant of my Tale is of a Length Totire your Patience, and to waste my Strength; And trivial Accidents fhall be forborn, } That others may have time to take their Turn; As was at first enjoin'd us by mine Host: That he whose Tale is beft, and pleases most, Should win his Supper at our common Cost, And therefore where I left, I will pursue This ancient Story, whether false or true, In hope it may be mended with a new. The Prince I mention'd, full of high Renown, In this Array drew near th' Athenian Town; When in his Pomp and utmost of his Pride, Marching, he chanc'd to cast his Eye aside, And faw a Quire of mourning Dames, who lay By Two and Two across the common Way: At his Approach they rais'd a rueful Cry, And beat their Breafts, and held their Hands on high, Creeping and crying, till they feiz'd at last His Courfer's Bridle, and his Feet embrac'd. Tell me, faid Thefeus, what and whence you are, And why this Funeral Pageant you prepare? |