And now in heav'n with him they live always,
With endless glory crown'd and lasting praise.

'But why recount I thus our passed harms?

Remembrance fresh makes weak'ned sorrow strong, Expulsed were we with injurious arms,

From those due honours us of right belong.
But let us leave to speak of these alarms,

And bend our forces 'gainst our present wrong;
Ah! see you not how He attempted hath
To bring all lands, all nations to his faith!

Then let us careless spend the day and night,
Without regard what haps, what comes or goes;
Let Asia subject be to Christian's might,
A prey be Sion to her conquering foes;
Let her adore again her Christ aright,

Who her before all nations whilome chose,
In brazen tables be his love ywrit,

And let all tongues and lands acknowledge it.

So shall our sacred altars all be his,
Our holy idols tumbled in the mould,
To him the wretched man, that sinful is,

Shall pray, and offer incence, myrrh, and gold;
Our temples shall their costly deckings miss,
With naked walls and pillars freezing cold,
Tribute of souls shall end, and our estate,
Or Pluto reign in kingdoms desolate.

Oh! be not then the courage perish'd clean
That whilome dwelt within your haughty thought,
When, arm'd with shining fire and weapons keen,
Against the angels of proud heav'n we fought:

I grant we fell on the Phlegrean green,

Yet good our cause was, though our fortune nought; For chance assisteth oft th' ignobler part,

We lost the field, yet lost we not our heart.

Go then, my strength, my hope, my spirits go, These western rebels with your power withstand, Pluck up these weeds, before they overgrow The gentle garden of the Hebrew's land; Quench out this spark before it kindle so That Asia burn, consumed with the brand. Use open force, or secret guile unspied; For craft is virtue 'gainst a foe defied.

'Among the knights and worthies of their train,
Let some like out-laws wander uncouth ways,
Let some be slain in field, let some again

Make oracles of women's yeas and nays,
And pine in foolish love; let some complain

Of Godfrey's rule and mutinies 'gainst him raise;
Turn each one's sword against his fellow's heart;
Thus kill them all, or spoil the greatest part.'

The following is the episode of Erminia and the shepherd which our readers will remember is highly extolled by Dr Blair.

Her tears her drink, her food, her sorrowings,
This was her diet that unhappy night:
But sleep, that sweet repose and quiet brings
To ease the griefs of discontented wight,
Spread forth his tender, soft and nimble wings,
In his dull arms folding the virgin bright;
And love, his mother, and the graces kept
Strong watch and ward, while this fair lady slept.
The birds awak'd her with their morning song,
Their warbling music pierc'd her tender ear;
The murmuring brooks and whistling winds among
The rattling boughs and leaves their parts did bear;
Her eyes unclos'd beheld the groves along,

Of swains and shepherd grooms that dwellings were;
And that sweet noise, birds, winds, and waters sent,
Provok'd again the virgin to lament.

'Her plaints were interrupted with a sound

That seem'd from thickest bushes to proceed,
Some jolly shepherd sung a lusty round,

And to his voice had tun'd his oaten reed;
Thither she went; an old man there she found,

At whose right hand his little flock did feed,
Sat making baskets his three sons among,
That learn'd their father's art, and learned his song.

Beholding one in shining arms appear,

The seely man and his were sore dismay'd,
But sweet Ermin a comforted their fear,
Her vental up, her visage open laid,—

You happy folk, of heav'n beloved dear,

Work on, quoth she, upon your harmless trade;
These dreadful arms I bear no warfare bring

To your sweet toil, nor those sweet tunes you sing.

'But, father, since this land, these towns and towers, Destroyed are with sword, with fire, and spoil; How may it be, unhurt that you and your's

In safety thus apply your harmless toil? My son, quoth he, this poor estate of our's

Is ever safe from storm of warlike broil; This wilderness doth us in safety keep,

No thund'ring drum, no trumpet breaks our sleep:

Haply just heaven's defence and shield of right Doth love the innocence of simple swains; The thunderbolts on highest mountains light, And seld or never strike the lower plains; So kings have cause to fear Bellona's might, Not they whose sweat and toil their dinner gains; Nor ever greedy soldier was enticed

By poverty, neglected and despised:

O, poverty! chief of the heavenly brood, Dearer to me than wealth or kingly crown, No wish for honor, thirst of other's good,

Can move my heart, contented with mine own; We quench our thirst with water of this flood,

Nor fear we poison should therein be thrown; These little flocks of sheep and tender goats Give milk for food, and wool to make us coats:

'We little wish, we need but little wealth

From cold and hunger us to clothe and feed ; These are my sons, their care preserves from stealth Their father's flocks, nor servants more I need: Amid these groves i walk oft for my health,

And to the fishes, birds, and beasts give heed,
How they are fed in forest, spring, and lake,
And their contentment for example take:

Time was (for each one hath his doting time,
These silver locks were golden tresses then)
That country life I hated as a crime,

And from the forest's sweet contentment ran;
To Memphis' stately palace would I climb,
And there became the mighty caliph's man,
And though I but a simple gardener were,
Yet could I mark abuses, see and hear:

Enticed on with hope of future gain,

I suffer'd long what did my soul displease;

But when my youth was spent, my hope was vain;
I felt my native strength at last decrease;
I 'gan my loss of lusty years complain,

And wish'd I had enjoy'd the country's peace;
I bade the court farewell, and with content
My later age here have I quiet spent.

While thus he spake, Erminia, hush'd and still, His wise discourses heard with great attention; His speeches grave those idle fancies kill,

Which in her troubled soul bred such dissension After much thought reformed was her will,

Within those woods to dwell was her intention, Till fortune should occasion new afford,

To turn her home to her desired lord.

She said therefore-O shepherd fortunate!

That troubles some did'st whilom feel and prove, Yet livest now in this contented state,

Let my mishap thy thoughts to pity move, To entertain me as a willing mate

In shepherd's life, which I admire and love; Within these pleasant groves perchance my heart Of her discomforts may unload some part:

If gold or wealth, of most esteemed dear, If jewels rich thou diddest hold in prize, Such store thereof, such plenty have I here, As to a greedy mind might well suffice.With that down trickled many a silver tear, Two crystal streams fell from her watery eyes; Part of her sad misfortunes then she told, And wept, and with her wept that shepherd old.

With speeches kind he 'gan the virgin dear Towards his cottage gently home to guide; His aged wife there made her homely cheer, Yet welcom'd her, and plac'd her by her side. The princess donned a poor pastora's gear,

A kerchief coarse upon her head she tied ; But yet her gestures and her looks I guess, Were such as ill beseem'd a shepherdess :

Not those rude garments could obscure and hide The heav'nly beauty of her angel's face, Nor was her princely offspring damnified

Or aught disparag'd by those labors base

New Series, No. 9. 13

Her little flocks to pasture would she guide,

And milk her goats, and in their folds them place;
Both cheese and butter could she make, and frame
Herself to please the shepherd and his dame.

'But oft, when underneath the greenwood shade
Her flocks lay hid from Phebus' scorching rays,
Unto her knight she songs and sonnets made,

And them engrav'd in bark of beech and bays:
She told how Cupid did her first invade,

How conquered her, and ends with Tancred's praise;
And when her passion's writ she over read,

Again she mourned, again salt tears she shed.

'You happy trees for ever keep (quoth she)
This woeful story in your tender rind,
Another day under your shade, may be,
Will come to rest again some lover kind,
Who if these trophies of my grief he see,

Shall feel dear pity pierce his gentle mind.
With that she sighed and said, too late I prove
There is no trust in fortune, trust in love.

'Yet may it be (if gracious heavens attend
The earnest suit of a distressed wight)
At my entreat they will vouchsafe to send

To these huge deserts that unthankful knight;
That when to earth the man his eyes shall bend,
And see my grave, my tomb, and ashes light,
My woeful death his stubborn heart may move,
With tears and sorrows to reward my love:

So though my life hath most unhappy been,
At least yet shall my spirit dead be blest;
My ashes cold shall, buried on the green,

Enjoy that good this body ne'er possest.-
This she complained to the senseless treen,

Flods in her eyes, and fires were in her breast;
But he for whom these streams of tears she shed,
Wander'd far off, alas! as chance him led.'

We shall close our extracts with the following description of the incantations of Ismeno, in the beginning of Book 13. Splendid as Fairfax here is, he has done no more than justice to the original. We think that, for terrific sublimity, this passage is not excelled by any thing in Homer, Virgil, or Milton,