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Clapt them on board. The frighted flying crew
Their colours ftrike; when dauntless Junio, fir'd
With noble indignation, kill'd the chief,

Who on the bloody deck dealt flaughter round.
The Gauls retreat; the Briton's loud huzza;
And touch'd with shame, with emulation ftung,
So plied their cannon, plied their misfile fires,
That foon in air the haplefs Thunderer blew,
Blow, profperous breezes! swiftly fail, thou Po!
May no more dang'rous fights retard thy way!
Soon Porto Santo's rocky heights they spy,
Like clouds dim rifing in the distant sky.
Glad Eurus whiftles, laugh the sportive crew;
Each fail is fet to catch the favouring gale,
While on the yard-arm the harpooner fits,
Strikes the boneta, or the shark ensnares:
The little nautilus, with purple pride
Expands his fails, and dances o'er the waves;
Small winged fishes on the shrouds alight;
And beautious dolphins gently play'd around.
Tho' faster than the Tropic-bird they flew,
Oft Junio cried, Ah! when shall we fee land!
Soon land they made; and now in thought he clasp'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 vessel to defcry.

One eve (faint calms for many a day had reign'd}
The wing'd dæmons of the tempeft rose-
Thunder and rain, and lightning's awful power.
She fled could innocence, could beauty claim.
Exemption from the grave; the etherial bolt,
That ftretch'd her fpeechlefs, o'er her lovely head
Had innocently roll'd.

Meanwhile, impatient Junio leap'd afhore,

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Regardless of the dæmons of the ftorm.

Ah, youth! what woes too great for man to bear,
Are ready to burft on thee! Urge not fo
Thy flying courfer. Soon Theana's porch
Receiv'd him; at his fight the ancient flaves
Affrighted shrink, and to the chamber point :-
Confounded, yet unknowing what they meant.
He enters hafty-

Ah! what a fight for one who lov'd fo well!
All pale and cold, in every feature death.
Theana lay; and yet a glimpfe 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 ftill 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, embrac'd him, with a groan expir'd.

But fay, what strains, what language can exprefs
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 kisses gave. He ftrove to speak;
Nor words he found: he clafpt her in his arms;
He figh'd, he fwoon'd, look'd up, and died away.
One grave contains this hapless faithful pair!
And ftill the Cane-ifles tell their matchless love!

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GRAINGER.

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CHAPTER XVIII.

DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH.

My name is Norval: on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flock; a frugal swain,
Whofe conftant cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only fon, myfelf at home.
For I had heard of battles, and I long'd
To follow to the field fome warlike lord:
And Heaven foon granted what my fire-denied.
This moon which rose last night, round as my shield,
Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her light,
A band of fierce barbariáns, from the hills,
Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale,

Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled
For fafety and for fuccour. Ialone,

With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd

The road he took, then hafted to my friends:
Whom, with a troop of fifty chofen men,
I met advancing, the purfuit I led,

Till we o'ertook the fpoil-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 disdain'd
The fhepherd's flothful life; and having heard
That our good king had fummon'd his bold peers
To lead their warriors to the Carron fide.
I left my father's house, and took with me
A chofen fervant to conduct my steps:
Yon trembling coward who forfook his mafter.
Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers,
And, heav'n-directed, came this day to do
The happy deed that gilds my humble name.

HOME.

CHAPTER XIX.

'OTHELLO's APOLOGY.

MOST potent, gráve, and reverend Signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good mafters,
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. Rude am I in fpeech,
And little blefs'd with the fet phrase of peace;
For fince these arms of mine had feven years pith,
Till now fome nine moons wafted, they have us'd
Their dearest 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 fhall I grace my caufe,

In fpeaking for myfelf. Yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic

(For fuch proceedings I am charg'd withal)

I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me, oft invited me;

Still question'd me the ftory of my life,

From year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes
That I have past.

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
Wherein I spoke of most disasterous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth 'fcapes in th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the infolent foe

And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence,

And with it all my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and deserts wild,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whofe heads touch heav'n,

It was my bent to speak.-All these to hear
Would Desdemona feriously incline.

But ftill the houfe-affairs would draw her hence,
Which ever as the could with hafte despatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
devour up my discourse; which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a pray'r of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels fhe had fomething heard,
But not diftinctively. I did confent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth fuffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of fighs;
She swore, in faith, 'twas ftrange, 'twas paffing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful-

She wish'd the had not heard it—yet she wish'd

That Heav'n had made her such a man ;—she thank'd
Me, and bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my ftory,
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake;
She lov'd me for the dangers I had past,

And I lov'd her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.

SHAKESPEARE.

CHAPTER XX.

ANEAS BEARING HIS FATHER FROM THE FLAMES OF TROY.

Now, with a lion's fpoils bespread, I take

My fire, a pleasing burden on my back;

Close clinging to my hand, and preffing nigh,
With fteps unequal trip'd Iulus by;
Behind, my lov'd Creusa took her way;
Through every lonely dark recess we stray:

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