No little Guilford, with paternal grace,
Lull'd on her knee, or fmiling in her face;
Who, when her dearest father shall return,
From pouring tears on her untimely urn,
Might comfort to his filver hairs impart,
And fill her place in his indulgent heart:
As where fruits fall, quick-rifing bloffoms fmile,
And the bleft Indian of his care beguile.

In vain these various reafons jointly prefs,
To blacken death, and heighten her diftrefs;
She, through th' encircling terrors, darts her fight
To the blefi'd regions of eternal light,
And fills her foul with peace: to weeping friends
Her father, and her lord, the recommends;
Unmov'd herself: her foes her air furvey,
And rage to fee their malice thrown away.
She foars; now nought on earth detains her care-
But Guilford; who still struggles for his share.
Still will his form importunately rife,
Clog and retard her transport to the skies;
As trembling flames now take a feeble flight,
Now catch the brand with a returning light,
Thus her foul onward from the feats above
Falls fondly back, and kindles into love :
At length the conquers in the doubtful field;
That heaven fhe feeks will be her Guilford's fhield.
Now death is welcome; his approach is flow;
'Tis tedious longer to expect the blow.

Oh! mortals, fhort of fight, who think the paft O'erblown misfortune ftill fhall prove the laft: Alas! misfortunes travel in a train, And oft in life form one perpetual chain; Fear buries fear, and ills on ills attend, Till life and forrow meet one common end.

She thinks that she has nought but death to fear, And death is conquer'd. Worfe than death is

near:

Her rigid trials are not yet complete;
The news arrives of her great father's fate.
She fees his hoary head, all white with age,
A victim to th' offended monarch's rage.
How great the mercy, had the breath'd her laft,
Ere the dire fentence on her father past!

A fonder parent nature never knew;
And as his age increas'd, his fondness grew.
A parent's love ne'er better was bestow'd;
The pious daughter in her heart o'erflow'd.
And can fhe from all weaknefs ftill refrain?
And fill the firmnefs of her foul maintain?
Impoflible! a figh will force its way;
One patient tear her mortal birth betray;
She fighs and weeps! but fo fhe weeps and fighs,
As filent dews defcend, and vapours rife.

Celestial patience! how doft thou defeat The foe's proud menace, and elude his hate? While paflion takes his part, betrays our peace; To death and torture fwells each flight disgrace; By not oppofing, thou doft ills destroy, And wear thy conquer'd forrows into joy. Now he revolves within her anxious mind, What woe ftill lingers in referve behind. Griefs rife on griefs, and the can fee no bound, While nature lafts, and can receive a wound. The fword is drawn: The queen to rage inclin'd, By mercy, nor by picty, confin'd.

What mercy can the zealot's heart affuage,
Whofe piety itfelf converts to rage?
She thought, and figh'd. And now the blood began
To leave her beauteous cheek all cold and wan.
New forrow dimm'd the luftre of her eye,
And on her cheek the fading roses die.
Alas! fhould Guilford too-when now she's brought
To that dire view, that precipice of thought,
While there the trembling ftands, nor dares look
down,

Nor can recede, till heaven's decrees are known;
Cure of all ills, till now her lord appears-
But not to cheer her heart and dry her tears!
Not now, as ufual, like the rifing day,
To chafe the fhadows and the damps away:
But, like a gloomy florm at once to sweep
And plunge her to the bottom of the deep.
Black were his robes, dejected was his air,
His voice was frozen by his cold defpair:
Slow, like a ghoft, he mov'd with folemn pace;
A dying palenefs fat upon his face.

Back fhe recoil'd, fhe fmote her lovely breast,
Her eyes the anguish of her heart confefs d;
Struck to the foul, fhe stagger'd with the wound,
And funk, a breathlefs image, to the ground.

Thus the fair lily, when the sky's o'ercast, At first but fhudders ip the feeble blaft; But when the winds and weighty rains defcend, The fair and upright ftem is forc'd to bend ; Till broke at length, its fnowy leaves are fhed, And ftrew with dying fweets their native bed.

BOOK II.

"Hic pietatis honos? fic nos in fceptra reponis?"

VIRG.

HER Guilford clafps her, beautiful in death,
And with a kifs recalls her fleeting breath,
To tapers thus, which by a blast expire,
A lighted taper, touch'd, reftores the fire:
She rear'd her fwimming eye, and faw the light,
And Guilford too, or the had loath'd the fight:
Her father's death fhe bore, defpis'd her own,
But now the muft, fhe will, have leave to groan:
Ah! Guilford, fhe began, and would have fpoke;
But fobs rufh'd in, and every accent broke:
Reafon itself, as gufts of paffion blew,
Was ruffled in the tempeft, and withdrew.

So the youth loft his image in the well,
When tears upon the yielding furface fell :
The fcatter'd features flid into decay,
And spreading circles drove his face away.

To touch the foft affections, and controul
The manly temper of the bravest soul,

What with afflicted beauty can compare,
And drops of love diftilling from the fair?
It melts us down; our pains delight bestow;
And we with fondness languish o'er our woe.

This Guilford prov'd; and, with excefs of pain
And pleasure too, did to his bofom strain
The weeping fair: funk deep in foft defire,
Indulg'd his love, and nurs'd the raging fire:
Then tore himfelf away; and, fanding wide,
As fearing a relapfe of fondnefs, cry d,

3

"Then fall, and flatten, break, and disappear. "Life is a forfeit we muft fhortly pay;

81

And where's the mighty lucre of a day?

Why fhould you mourn my fate? 'Tis most unkind; "Your own you bore with an unshaken mind: "And which, can you imagine, was the dart "That drank moft blood, funk deepest in my heart? "I cannot live without you; and my doom "I meet with joy, to fhare one common tomb."And are again your tears profufely spilt! "Oh: then, my kindnefs blackens to my guilt; "It foils itfelf, if it recall your pain; "Life of my life, I beg you to refrain! "The load which fate impofes, you increase; "And help Maria to deftroy my peace."

Bat, oh against himself his labour turn'd; The more he comforted, the more fhe mourn'd: Compaffion fwells our grief; words foft and kind But for the our weakness, and dissolve the mind: Her for ow flow'd in ftreams; nor her's alone, While that he blam'd, he yielded to his own. Where are the fimiles fhe wore, when fhe, fo late, Hat'd him great partner of the regal ftate; When orient gems around her temples blaz'd, And beating nations on the glory gaz'd? [treat, Th now the queen's command, they both re8 weep with diguity, and mourn in state : The forms the decent mifery with joy, And leads with pomp the wretch the would deftroy, A fpacious ball is hung with black; all light Shot out, and noon-day darken'd into night. From the mid-roof a lamp depends on high, Like a dim crefcent in a clouded fky: It sheds a quivering melancholy gloom, Which only hows the darknefs of the room, A hining ax is on the table laid;

A dreadfui fight! and glitters through the fhade. In this fad fene the lovers are confin'd; A fcene of terrors, to a guilty mind! Afcene that would have damp'd with rifing cares, Acd quite extinguish'd every love but theirs. What can they do? They fix their mournful eyesThen Guilford, thus abruptly; "I defpife * An empire loft; I fling away the crown; Numbers have laid that bright delufion down; "But where's the Charles, or Dioclefian where, "Could quit the blooming, wedded, weeping fair?

"Oh! to dwell ever on thy lip! to ftand

料

In full poffeffion of thy fnowy hand!

And, through th' unclouded cryftal of thine eye, "The heavenly treasures of the mind to spy! Till raptore reafon happily deftroys,

And my foul wanders through immortal joys!

"Give me the world, and afk me, Where's my "blifs?

"I clafp thee to my breaft, and answer, This. "And fhall the grave"-He groans, and can no

more;

But all her charms in filence traces o'er;
Her lip, her cheek, and eye, to wonder wrought;
And, wondering, fees, in fad prefaging thought,
From that fair neck, that world of beauty fall,
And roll along the duft, a ghaftly ball!

Oh let thofe tremble, who are greatly blefs'd!
For who, but Guilford, could be thus diftrefs'd?
Come hither, all you happy, all you great,
From flowery meadows, and from rooms of ftate;
Nor think I call, your pleasures to destroy,
But to refine, and to exalt your joy:
Weep not; but, fmiling, fix your ardent care
On nobler titles than the brave or fair.

Was ever fuch a mournful, moving fight?
See, if you can, by that dull, trembling light:
Now they embrace; and, mix'd with bitter woe,
Like Ifis and her Thames, one stream they flow:
Now they start wide; fix'd in benumbing care,
They stiffen Into ftatues of defpair :
Now, tenderly fevere, and fiercely kind,
They rush at once; they fling their cares behind,
And clafp, as if to death; new vows repeat;
And, quite wrapp'd up in love, forget their fate.
A short delufion for the raging pain
Returns; and their poor hearts muft bleed again.”
Meantime, the queen new cruelty decreed;
But, ill content that they should only bleed,
A prieft is fent; who, with infidious art,
Inftills his poifon into Suffolk's heart;
And Guilford drank it: Hanging on the breast,
He from his childhood was with Rome poffeft.
When now the minifters of death draw nigh,
And in her dearest lord fhe first must die,
The fubtle prieft, who long had watch'd to find
The most unguarded paffes of her mind,
Bespoke her thus:" Grieve not; 'tis in your
"" power

"Your lord to refcue from this fatal hour."
Her bofom pants; the draws her breath with pain;
A fudden horror thrills through every vein;
Life feems fufpended, on his words intent;
And her foul trembles for the great event.

The priest proceeds: "Embrace the faith of

"Rome,

"And ward your own, your lord's, and father's doom.

Ye bleffed fpirits! now your charge sustain;
The paft was eafe; now firft the suffers pain.
Muft the pronounce her father's death?" "must she
Bid Guilford bleed ?-It must not, cannot, be.
It canaot be! But 'tis the Chriftian's praise,
Above impoflibilities to raise

I he weakness of our nature; and deride
Of vain philofophy the boafted pride.
What though our feeble finews fcarce impart
A moment's fwiftnefs to the feather'd dart;
Though tainted air our vigorous youth can break,
And a chill blaft the hardy warrior shake,
Yet are we frong: Hear the loud tempest roar;
From caft to weft, and call us weak no more;

The lightning's unrefifted force proclaims
Our might; and thunders raife our humble names;
'Tis our Jehovah fills the heavens; as long
As he fhall reign Almighty, we are strong:
We, by devotion, borrow from his throne;
And almost make Omnipotence our own:
We force the gates of heaven, by fervent prayer;
And call forth triumph out of man's despair.

Our lovely mourner, kneeling, lifts her eyes
And bleeding heart, in filence, to the fkies,
Devoutly fad-Then, brightening, like the day,
When fudden winds fweep fcatter'd clouds away,
Shining in majesty, till now unkown;
And breathing life and spirit fcarce her own;
She, rifing, fpeaks: "If these the terms'
Here, Guilford, cruel Guilford, (barbarous

"Thou who haft took me to thy arms, and fwore Empires were vile, and fate could give no more; "That to continue, was its utmoft power, "And make the future like the prefent hour, "Now call a ruffian; bid his cruel fword

Lay wide the borm of thy worthless lord; "Transfix his heart (fince you its love disclaim), And flain his honour with a traitor's name. This might perhaps be borne without remorfe; "But fure a father's pangs will have their force! "Shall his good age, fo near its journey's end, "Through cruel torment to the grave defcend?

His fhallow blood all iffue at a wound, "Wash a flave's feet, and fmoke upon the ground? "But he to you has ever been severe; "Then take your vengeance"-Suffolk now drew

near;

Bending beneath the burden of his care; His robes neglected, and his head was bare; Decrepit winter, in the yearly ring, Thus flowly creeps, to meet the blooming fpring: Downward he caft a melancholy look; Thrice turn'd, to hide his grief; then faintly spoke, "Now deep in years, and forward in decay, "That ax can only rob me of a day; "For thee, my foul's defire! I can't refrain;

And fhall my tears, my laft tears, flow in "vain?

"When you fhall know a mother's tender name, "My heart's diftrefs no longer will you blame." At this, afar his burfting groans were heard; The tears ran trickling down his filver beard:

?

He snatch'd her hand, which to his lips he preft,
And bid her plant a dagger in his breaft;
Then, finking, call'd her piety unjust,
And foil'd his hoary temples in the dust.
Hard-hearted men! will you no mercy know
Has the queen brib'd you to distress her foe?
O weak deferters to misfortune's part,
By false affection thus to pierce her heart!
When she had foar'd, to let your arrows fly,
And fetch her bleeding from the middle sky!
And can her virtue, fpringing from the ground,
Her flight recover, and difdain the wound,
When cleaving love and human interest bind
The broken force of her afpiring mind;

As round the generous eagle, which in vain
Exerts her ftrength, the serpent wreathes his
train,

Her ftruggling wings entangles, curling plies
His poisonous tail, and ftings her as the flies!

While yet the blow's first dreadful weight fhe
feels,

And with its force her refolution reels;
Large doors, unfolding with a mournful found,
To view difcover, weltering on the ground,
Three heedless trunks, of those whofe arms main-
tain'd,

And in her wars immortal glory gain'd;
The lifted ax affur'd her ready doom,
And filent mourners fadden'd all the room.
Shall I proceed; or here break off my tale?
Nor truths, to flagger human faith, reveal.
She met this utmost malice of her fate
With Chriftian dignity, and pious state:
The beating ftorm's propitious rage the bleft,
And all the martyr triumph'd in her breast:
Her lord and father, for a moment's space,
She ftrictly folded in her foft embrace!
Then thus the fpoke, while angels heard on high,
And fudden gladnefs fmil'd along the sky:

"Your over-fondness has not mov'd my hate; "I'am well pleas'd you make my death fo great; "I joy I cannot fave you; and have given "Two lives, much dearer than my own to heaven, "If fo the queen decrees :-But I have cause "To hope my blood will fatisfy the laws; "And there is mercy ftill, for you, in flore: "With me the bitterness of death is o'er. "He fhot his fting in that farewell embrace; "And all, that is to come, is joy and peace. "Then let mistaken forrow be fuppreft, "Nor feem to envy my approaching rest." Then, turning to the minifters of fate, She, fmiling, fays, "My victory's complete : "And tell your queen, I thank her for the blow, "And grieve my gratitude I cannot show : "A poor return I leave in England's crown, "For everlasting pleasure and renown: "Her guilt alone allays this happy hour; "Her guilt-the only vengeance in her power." Not Rome, untouch'd with forrow, heard her fate;

And fierce Maria pity'd her too late.

Here foe embraces them.