« VorigeDoorgaan »
In Biscay's stormy feas, an armed fhip,
Of force superior, from loud Charante's wave
Clapt them on board. The frighted flying crew
The colours strike; when dauntless Junio, fir'd
With noble indignation, kill'd the chief,
Who on the bloody deck dealt slaughter round.
The Gauls retreat; the Britons loud huzza ;
And touch'd with shame, with emulation ftung,
So plied their cannon, plied their missile fires,
That soon in air the hapless Thunderer blew.
Blow prosperous breezes ; swiftly fail thou Po:
May no more dangerous fights retard thy way!
Soon Porto Santo's rocky heights they spy,
Like clouds dim rising in the distant sky.
Glad Eurus whistles, laugh the sportive crew,
Each fail is set 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 beauteous dolphins gently play around,
Though faster than the tropic bird they flew,
Oft Junio cried, Ah! when shall we see 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 veffel to descry.
One eve (faint calms for many a day had rag'd)
The winged Dæmons of the tempest rofe !
Thunder, and rain, and lightning's awful power
She fled: could innocence, could beauty claim
Exemption from the grave, the ethereat bolt,
That stretch'd her speechless, o'er her lovely head
Had innocently roll’d.
Meanwhile impatient Junio leap'd ashore,
Regardless of the Dæmons of the storm.
Ah, yoath! what woes, too great for man to bear,
Are ready to burst on thee ? Urge not fo
Thy flying courser. Soon Theana's porch
Receiv'd him ; at his fight the ancient slaves
Affrighted shriek, 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 faultering voice
She thus address’d the youth, whom yet she knew;
« Welcome, my Junio, to thy native shore !
« Thy fight repays this fummons of my fate :
“ Live, and live happy ; sometimes think of me:
“ By night, by day, you still engag'd my care :
“ And, next to God, you now my thoughts employ :
“Accept of this–My little all I give ;
“ Would it were larger.".
Nature could no more ;
She look'd, embrac'd him, with a groan expir’d.
But say, what ftrains, what language can express
The thousand pangs, which tore the lover's breast !
Upon her breathless eorse 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 clasp'd her in his arms;
He figh’d, he swoon'd, look'd up, and died away.
One grave contains this hapless, faithful pair;
And still the Cane-ifles tell their matchless love!
DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH.
My name is Norvat: on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flock; a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were to increase his flore,
And keep his only son, myself, at home.
For I had heard of battles, and I long'd
To follow to the field some warlike lord ;
And Heaven soon granted what my fire denied.
This moon, which rose last night round as my field,
Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her lighi,
A band of fierce barbarians from the hills,
Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The thepherds Aed
For safety, and for succour. I alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark J
The road he took, then halted to my friends ;
Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men,
I met advancing. The pursuit I led,
Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe.
We fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn,
An arrow from
my bow had pierc'd their chief,
Who wore that day the arms which now l-wear.
Returning home in triumph, 1 disdain'd
The shepherd's Rothful life; and having heard,
That our good king had summon’d his bold Peers,
To lead their warriors to the Carron fide,
I left my father's house, and took with me
A chosen servant to conduct my steps :-
Yon trembling coward, who forfook his master,
Journeying with this intent, I pass's these towers,
And, Heaven directed, came this day to do
The happy deed that gilds my humble name.
Most potent, grave, and reverend Signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters,
'l hat 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 speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’d
Their deareft action in the tented field;
Ard little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils and battles ;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself. 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 mig!iy magic,
(For such proceedings I am charg'd withal,)
I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me, oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes,
That I have paft.
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 disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach ;
Of being taken by the infolent foe,
And fold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history:
Wherein of antres vaft, and deserts wild,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touch Heay'n,
It was my bent to speak.--All these to hear
Would Desdemona serioully incline.
But ftill the house affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with halte dispatch,
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 prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not distinctively. I did confent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful ftroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of fighs,
She swore, in faith, 'twas ftrange, 'twas passing ftrange;
I'was pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful-
She wih'd she 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 story,
And that would woo her. On this kint I fpake;
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.
Now food Eliza on the wood-crown'd height,
O'er Minden's plain, fpectatress of the fight;
Sought with bold eye amid the bloody ftrife
Her dearer self, the partner of her life;