"Art thou," the raging Raymond said,
"Of this audacious boy the tire?
"Curfe on the dart that idly sped,
"Nor bade his peafant foul expire!" "His peafant foul!"-indignant fire
Flash'd from the conscious father's eye: "A gallant earl is Arinine's fire,
"And know, proud chief, that earl am I. "Tho' here, within the hermit's cell,
"I long have liv'd unknown to fame, "Yet crowded camps and courts can tell"Thon too haft heard of Egbert's name.” "Hah! Egbert! he, whom tyrant rage "Fore'd from his country's bleeding breast? "The patron of my orphan age,
"My friend, my warrior stands confeft! "But why?"—" The painful story spare: "That proftrate youth," faid Egbert," fee; "His anguish asks a parent's care,
“A parent, once who pitied thee!"
Raymond, as one who, glancing round,
Seems from fome fudden trance to start,
Snatch'd the pale lovers from the ground,
And held them trembling to his heart.
Joy, Gratitude, and Wonder shed
United tears o'er Hymen's reign,
And nature her beft triumph led,
For Love and Virtue join'd her train.
† 142. An Italian Song. DEAR is my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and warbles there;
Clofe by my cot the tells her tale
To every paffing villager.
The fquirrel leaps from tree to tree,
And shells his nuts at liberty.
In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,
That breathe a gale of fragrance round,
I charm the fairy-footed hours
With my lov'd fute's romantic found;
Or crowns of living laurel weave,
For those that win the race at eve.
The Chepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danc'd in twilight glade,
The canzonet and roundelay
Sung in the filent greenwood flade;
These fimple joys, that never fail,
Shall bind me to my native vale.
Bright Chloe, object of my constant vow,
Wilt thou a while unbend thy ferious brow?
Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,
And with one heav'nly fmile o'erpay his pains?
No longer fhall the Nut-Brown Maid be old;
Tho' fince her youth three hundred years have
At thy defire, the fhall again be rais'd; [roll'd.
Andher reviving charms in laftingverfebeprais'd.
No longer man of woman fhall complain,
That he may love and not be lov'd again:
That we in vain the fickle fex purfue,
Who change the conftant lover for the new.
Whatever has been writ, whatever faid,
Of female paffion feign'd, or faith decay'd:
Henceforth thall in my verse refuted stand,
Be faid to winds, or writ upon the sand.
And, while my notes to future times proclaim
Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame;
Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse:
O fairest of the fex! be thou my Muse:
Let me partake the bleffings I rehearse,
And grant me love, the just reward of verse.
As beauty's potent queen, with ev'ry grace,
That once was Emma's, has adorn'd thy face;
And as her fon has to my bofom dealt
That conftant flame, which faithful Henry felt;
O let the ftory with thy life agree :
Let men once more the bright example fee;
What Einma was to him, be thou to me.
Nor fend me by thy frown from her I love,
Diftant and fad, a banish'd man to rove.
But oh! with pity long-entreated crown
My pains and hopes; and, when thou fay'ft(
that one
[alone.
Of all mankind thou lov'ft, oh! think on me.
WHERE beauteous Ifis and her husband Tame
With mingled waves for ever flow the fame,
In times of yore an ancient baron liv'd;
Great gifts beftow'd, and great refpe&t receiv'd.
When dreadful Edward with fuccefsful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war;
This lord had headed his appointed bands,
In firm allegiance to the king's commands;
And (all due honours faithfully discharg'd)
Had brought back his paternal coat, enlarg'd
With a new mark, the witness of his toil,
And no inglorious part of foreign spoil.
From the loud camp retir'd and noisy court
In honourable eafe and rural sport,
The remnant of his days he fafely pafs'd;
Nor found they lagg'd too flow, nor flew too fast.
He made his wifh with his eftate comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.
One child he had, a daughter chaste and fair,
143. Henry and Emma, a Poem ufon the Model His age's comfort, and bis fortune's heir. of the Nut-Brown Maid.
They call'd her Emina; for the beauteous dame,
Who gave the virgin birth, had borne the name:
The name th' indulgent father doubly lov'd;
For in the child the mother's charms improv'd.
Yet as when little round his knees the phy'd,
He call'd her oft, in sport, his Nut-brown Maid;
The friends and tenants took the fondling word
(As ftill they pleafe, who imitate their lord);
Ufage confirm'd what fancy had begun;
Themutual terms aroundthelands were known;
And Emma and the Nut-brown Maid were one.
As with her ftature, ftill her charras increas'd;
Thro' all the ile her beauty was confefs'd.
Oh! what perfections mult that virgin fhare,
Who faireft is efteem'd, where all are fair!
From diftant thires repair the noble youth,
And find report, for once, had leffen'd truth.
By wonder firit, and then by paffion mov'd,
They came; they faw; they marvell'd; and they
By public praifes, and by fecret fighs, [lov'd.
Each own'd the gen'ral power of Emma's eyes.
In tilts and tournaments the valiant ftrove,
By glorious eds to purchafe Emma's love.
In gentle verfe, the witty told their flame,
Andgrac theirchoiceftfongs with Emma's name.
In vain they combated, in vain they writ:
Ufelefs their strength, and impotent their wit.
Great Venus only muft direct the dart,
Which elle will never reach the fair one's
heart,
Spite of the attempts of force, and foft effects
Great Venus muft prefer the happy one:
In Henry's caufe her favour mull be shown:
And Einma, of mankind, muit love but him
While thefe in public to the castle came, And by their grandeur juftify'd their flame; More fecret ways the careful Henry takes; His fquires, his arms, and equipage forfakes: In borrow'd name and falfe attire array'd, Oft he finds means to fee the beauteous maid. When Emrahunts, in buntfinan's habit dreft, Henry on foot pursues the bounding beast, In his right hand his beechen pole he bears: And graceful at his side his horn he wears. Still to the glade, where the has bent her way, With knowing skill he drives the future prey; Bids her decline the hill, and fun the brake; And hows the path her teed may fafcit take; Directs her fpear to fix the glorious wound; Picas'd, in his toils, to have her triumph crown'd;
And blows her praifes with no common found..
A falconer Henry is, when Emma hawks:
With her of tafels and of lures he talks.
Upon his wrift the tow'ring merlin ftands,
Practis'd to rife, and stoop, at her commands.
And when fuperior now the bird has flown,
Andheadlongbrou chtthetumblingquarry down;
With humble rev'rsace he accoils the fair,
And with the honour'd feather decks her hair.
Yet ftill, as from the fportive field he goes,
His downcat eye reveals his inward woes;
And by his lock ind forrow is expreft,
A nobler gume pushed than bird or beast.
But, foon as Emma's eyes adorn the plain,
His notes he raises to a nobler ftrain;
With dutiful refpect, and ftudious fear,
Left any carelefs found offend her ear.
A frantic giply, now the houfe he haunts, And in wild phrases speaks diffembled wants. With the fond maids in palmiftry he deals: They tell the fecret firft, which he reveals: Says who fhall wed, and who shall be beguil'd; Whatgroomfhallget,andfquiremaintainthechild. But when bright Emma would her fortune know, A fofter look unbends his op'ning brow; With trembling awe he gazes on her eye, And in foft accents forms the kind reply; That the fhall prove as fortunate as fair, AndHymen's choiceft gifts are all referv'dforher.
Now oft had Henry chang'd his fly difguile, Unmark'd by all but beauteous Emma's eyes; Oft had found means alone to fee the dame, And at her feet to breathe his am'rous flame; And oft, the pangs of abfence to remove By letters, foft interpreters of love: Till time and induftry (the mighty two That bring our withes nearer to our view) Made him perceive, that the inclining fair Receiv'd his vows with no reluctant ear; That Venus had confirm'd her equal reign,
and dealt to Emma's heart a fhareof Henry spain.
While Cupid fmil'd, by kind occafion bleft, And, with the fecret kept, the love increas'd; The amorous youth frequents the filent groves And much he meditates, for much he loves. He loves: 'tis true; and is belov`d again; Great are his joys; but will they long remain? Emma with fimiles receives his prefent flame; But, fmiling, will the ever be the fame? Beautiful looks are rul'd by fickle minds; And fummer feas are turn'd by fudden winds. Another love may gain her eafy youth: Timechangesthought;and flatt'ry conquerstruth. O impotent estate of human life! Where hope and fear maintain eternal strife; Where fleeting joy does lafting doubt infpire, And most we question, what we most defire. Amongit thy various gifts, great heav'n, below Our cup of love unmix'd; forbear to throw Bitter ingredients in; nor pall the draught With nauteous grief: for our ill-judging thought Hardly enjoys the pleasurable tafte; Or deems it not fincere; or fears it cannot laf.
With withes rais'd, with jealoufies opprelt, (Alternate tyrants of the human brea) By one great trial he refolves to prove I he faith of women, and the force of love. If, fcanning Emma's virtues, he may find That beauteous frame inclofe a steady mind, He'll fix his hope, of future joy fecure; And live a flave to Hymen's happy pow'r. A fhepherd now along the win he roves; But if the fair one, as he fears, is frail, And, with his ally pipe, deligats the groves. If, rois'd aright in reafon's equal fcale, The neighbong (wins around the franger Light dy her merits, and her faults prevail; Or to admire or emulate his fong: [throng, His mind he vows to free from am'rous care, While, with foft forrow, he renews his lays, The went mifchief from his he r. to tear, Nor heedful of their envy, nor their praife. Refume his azure arras, and fhine again in war,
South of the caftle, in a verdant glade,
A fpreading beech extends her friendly fhade:
Here oft the nymph his breathing vowshad heard:
Here oft her filence had her heart declar'd.
As active fpring awak'd her infant buds,
And genial life inform'd the verdant woods;
Henry, in knots involving Emma's name,
Had half exprefs'd and half conceal'd his flame
Upon the tree: and, as the tender mark
Grew with the year, and widen'd with the bark,
Venus had heard the virgin's foft addrefs,
That as the wound, the paffion might increase.
As potent nature fhed her kindly how'rs,
And deck'd the various mead with op'ning
flowers;
Upon this tree the nymph's obliging care
Had left a frequent wreath for Henry's hair;
Which as with gay delight the lover found,
Pleas'd with his conqueft, with her prefent
crown'd,
Glorious thro' all the plains he of: had gone,
And to each fwain the mystic honour thown;
The gift ftill prais'd, the giver ftill unknown..
His fecret note the troubled Henry writes;
To the known tree the lovely maid invites:
Imperfect words and dubious terms exprefs,
That unforeseen mifchance difturb'd his peace;
That he muft fomething to her ear commend,
On which her conduct and his life depend.
Soon as the fair one had the note receiv'd, The remnant of the day alone the griev'd: For diff'rent this from every former note, Which Venus dictated, and Henry wrote; Which told her all his future hopes were laid On the dear bofom of his Nut-brown Maid; Which always blefs'd her eyes, and own'd her And bid her oft adieu, yet added more. [pow'r; Now night advanc'd, The house in fleep were laid;
The nurse experienc'd, and the prying maid:
At laft that fprite, which does inceflant haunt
The lover's fteps, the ancient maiden aunt.
To her dear Henry Emma wings her way,
With quicken'd pace repairing forc'd delay;
For Love, fantastic power, that is afraid
To ftir abroad till watchfulness be laid,
Undaunted then, o'er cliffs and valleys ftrays,
And leads his vot'ries afe thro' pathlefs ways.
Not Argus with his hundred eyes thall find
Where Cupid goes; tho' he, poor guide, is blind.
The maiden, firit arriving, fent her eye
To afk, if yet its chief delight were nigh:
With fear, and with defire, with joy and pain,
She fees, and runs to meet him on the plain.
But oh! his steps proclaim no lover's haste;
On the low ground his fix'd regards are calt;
His artful bofom heaves diffembled fighs;
And tears fuborn'd fall copious from his eyes.
With cafe, alas! we credit what we love:
His painted grief does real forrow move
In the afflicted fair; adown her cheek
Trickling, the genuine tears their current break;
Attentive stood the mournful nymph: the man
Broke filence first: the tale alternate ran :
Emma, beyond what woman knows to feign?
Sincere, O tell me, haft thou felt a pain,
Has thy uncertain bofom ever ftrove
With the first tumults of a real love?
Haft thou now dreaded, and now bleft his sway,
Thy virgin foftnefs haft thou e'er bewail'd,
By turns averfe, and joyful to obey?
And wept the potent god's refiftlefs dart,
As reafon yielded, and as love prevail'd?
And heav'nly poifon thrilling thro' thy heart?
His killing pleasure, his ecftatic fmart,
At least deplore, and then forget my fate:
If fo, with pity view my wretched state;
To fome more happy knight referve thy charms,
By fortune favour'd, and fuccessful arms:
And only, as the fun's revolving ray,
Permit one figh, and fet apart one tear,
Brings back each year this melancholy day,
To an abandon'd exile's endless care.
For me, alas! out-caft of human race,
Love's anger only waits, and dire difgrace;
For lo! thefe hands in murder are embru'd;
Thefe trembling feet by justice are purfu'd:
Fate calls aloud, and haftens me away;
A fhameiul death attends my longer stay;
And I this night must fly from thee and love,
Condemn'd in lonely woods a banished man to
What is our blifs that changeth with the moon; And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon? What is true paffion, if unbleft it dies? And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies? If love, alas! be pain; the pain I bear No thought can figure, and no tongue declare, Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor falfe one feign'd, The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd: The god of love himfelf inhabits there, [care, With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and His complement of ftores, and total war.
O! ceafe then coldly to fufpect my love; And let my deed, at least, my faith approve. Alas! no youth fhall my endearments share; Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care; No future ftory fhall with truth upbraid The cold indiff 'rence of the Nut-brown Maid: Nor to hard banishment fhall Henry run; While careless Emma fleeps on beds of down. View me refolv'd, where-e'er thou lead'ft, to go, Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy woe: For I atteft, fair Venus and her son, That I, of all mankind, will love but thee alone.
Let prudence yet obftruct thy vent'rous way; And take good heed, what men willthink and fay: That beauteous Emma vagrant courfes took; Her father's houfe and civil life forfook; That, full of youthful blood, and fond of man, She to the wood-land with an exile ran. Reflect, that leffen'd fame is ne'er regain'd; And virgin honour once, is always ftain'd: M m 4
Timely advis'd, the coming evil fhun:
Better not do the deed, than weep it done.
No penance can abfolve our guilty fame;
Nor tears, that wash out fin, can wash out shame.
Then fly the fad effects of defp'rate love; [rove.
And leave a banilh'd manthroughlonely woodsto
Let Emma's hapless cafe be falfely told
By the rafh young, or the ill-natur'd old:
Let ev'ry tongue its various cenfures choose;
Abfolve with coldness, or with ipite accufe:
Fair Truth at lail her radiant beams will raife
And malice vanquifh'd heightens virtue's praite
Let then thy favour but indulge my flight;
O! let my prefence make thy travels light;
And potent Venus fhali exalt my name
Above the rumours of cenforious Fame;
Nor from that bufy demon's reftless pow'r
Will ever Emma other grace implore, [known,
Than that this truth fhould to the world be
That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone.
Those limbs, in lawn and fofteft filk array`d,
From fun beams guarded, and of winds afraid;
Can they bear angry Jove? Can they reaft
The parching dog-itar, and the bleak north-east,
When, chill'd by adverfe fnows, and beating rain,
We tread with weary steps the long fome plain;
When with hard toil we feek our ev'ning food,
Berries and acorns from the neighb'ring wood;
And find among the cliffs no other house,
But the thin covert of fome gather'd boughs;
Wilt thou not then reluctant fend thine eye
(Tho' then alas! that trial be too late)
Around the dreary wafte; and weeping try
To find thy father's hofpitable gate,
And feats,where Eafe and Plenty brooding fate?
Thofe feats, whence long excluded thou must
That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return: [mourn;
Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,
And hate a banish'd man condemn'd in woods
to rove?
Thy rife of fortune did I only wed, From its decline determin'd to recede? But canft thou wield the fword, and bend the Did I but purpofe to embark with thee With a&tive force repel the sturdy foe? [bow? On the fmooth furface of a fummer's fea, When the loud tumult fpeaks the battle nigh, While gentle Zephyrs play in profp'rous gales, And winged deaths in whistling arrows fly; And Fortune's favour fills the fwelling fails; Wilt thon, tho' wounded, yet undaunted stay, But would forfake the thip, and make the shore, Perform thy part, and fhare the dangerous day? When the winds whistle, and the tempefts roar? Then, as thy ftrength decays, thy heart will fail, No, Henry, no: one facred oath has ty'd Thy limbs all trenibling, and thy cheeks all pale. Our loves; one deftiny our life shall guide; With fruitless for ow, thou, inglorious maid, Nor wild nor deep our common way divide. Wilt weep thy fafety by thy love betray'd: When from the cave thou rifeft with the day, Then to thy friend, by foes o'ercharg'd, deny To beat the woods, and rouse the bounding prey; Thy little ufelefs aid, and coward fly: [love The cave with mofs and branches I'll adorn, Then wilt thou cu fe the chance that made thee And cheerful fit, to wait my lord's return: Abanifh'dmancondemn'dinlonelywoodstorove. And, when thou frequent bring'ft the smitten
With fatal certainty Thaleflris knew
To fend the arrow from the twanging yew:
And, great in arms, and foremost in the war,
Bonduca brandish'd high the British fpear.
Could thin of vengeance and defire of fame
Excite the female breaft with martial flame?
And fhall not love's diviner pow'r infpire
More hardy virtue, and more generous fire?
Near thee, miftruft not, conftant I'll abide,
And fall, or vanquish, fighting by thy fide.
Though my inferior strength may not allow,
That I fhould bear or draw the warrior bow;
With ready hand I will the shaft supply,
And joy to fee thy victor arrows fly.
Touch'd in the battle by the hoftile reed,
Should't thou (but Heav'n avert it!) fhould't
thou bleed;
To ftop the wounds my fineft lawn I'd tear,
Wash them with tears, and wipe them with my
hair:
Bleft, when my dangers and my toils have shown,
That I, of all mankind, could love but thee alone.
But canft thou, tender maid, canft thou fuftain Afflictive want, or hunger's prelling pain?
(For feldom, archers fay, thy arrows err), [deer
I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighb'ring wood,
And ftrike the fparkling flint, and drefs the
With humble duty, and officious haste, [food:
I'll cull the furtheft mead for thy repast:
The choiceft herbs I to thy board will bring;
And draw thy water from the fresheft spring:
And when, at night, with weary toil oppreft,
Soft flumbers thou enjoy 'ft, and whole fome reft;
Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight
Weary the gods to keep thee in their care;
If thou haft health, and I may blefs the day.
And joyous afk, at morn's returning ray,
My thoughts fhall fix, my latest with depend,
On thee, guide, guardian, kinfman, father, friend:
By all thefe facred names be Henry known
To Emma's heart and grateful let him own,
That she, of all mankind, could love but him
alone.
Or fit behind thy head, an ample round,
In graceful braids with various ribbon bound:
No longer thall the boddice, aptly lac'd
From thy full bofom to thy flender waist,
That air and harmony of fhape express,
Fine by degrees, and beautifully lefs:
Nor fhall thy lower garments' artful plait,
From thy fair fide dependent to thy feet,
Arm their chafte beauties with a modeft pride,
And double ev'ry charm they seek to hide.
Th' ambrofial plenty of thy thining hair,
Cropt off and lost, scarce lower than thy ear,
Shall stand uncouth: a horseman's coat thall hide
Thy taper shape and comeliness of fide:
The fhort trunk-hofe fhall fhew thy foot and knee
Licentious, and to common eye-fight free,
And, with a bolder stride, and loofer air,
Mingled with men, a man thou must appear.
Nor folitude, nor gentle peace of mind,
Miftaken maid, fhalt thou in forefts find:
'Tis long fince Cynthia and her train were there:
Or guardian gods made innocence their care.
Vagrants and outlaws fhall offend thy view;
For fuch must be my friends; a hideous crew
By adverse fortune mix'd in focial ill,
Train'd to affault, and difciplin'd to kill:
Their common loves, a lewd abandon'd pack,
The beadle's lash still flagrant on their back:
By floth corrupted, by diforder fed,
Made bold by want, and proftitute for bread:
With fuch muft Emma hunt the tedious day,
Affift their violence, and divide their prey :
With fuch fhe must return at setting light,
Tho' not partaker, witnefs of their night.
Thy ear, inur'd to charitable founds,
And pitying love, muft feel the hateful wounds
Of jeft obfcene and vulgar ribaldry,
The ill-bred queftion, and the lewd reply;
Brought by long habitude from bad to worse,
Muft bear the frequent oath, the direful curfe,
That latest weapon of the wretches war;
And blafphemy, fad comrade of despair.
Now, Emma, now the laft reflection make,
Whatthouwouldft follow, what thoumuftforfake;
By our ill-omen'd ftars, and adverse heav'n,
No middle object to thy choice is given.
Or yield thy virtue, to attain thy love; [rove.
Or leave a banish'd man condemn'd in woods to
O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates
Force thee to fuffer what thy honour hates;
Mix thee amongst the bad; or make thee run
Too near the paths which virtue bids thee thun.
Yet with her Henry still let Emma go;
With him abhor the vice, but fhare the woe:
And fure my little heart can never err
Amidft the worft; if Henry still be there.
Our outward act is prompted from within;
And from the finner's mind proceeds the fin:
By her own choice free Virtue is approv'd;
Nor by the force of outward objects mov'd.
Who has affay'd no danger gains no praise.
In a fall idle, amidst the widest fens,
Triumphant Conftancy has fix'd her feat:
In vain the fyrens fing, the tempests beat:
Their flattery fhe rejects, nor fears their threat.
For thee alone thefe little charms I drefs'd;
Condemn'd them, or abfolv'd them by thy teft.
In comely figure rang'd, my jewels fhone,
Or negligently plac'd, for thee alone:
For thee again they thall be laid afide;
The woman, Henry, fhall put off her pride
For thee, my clothes, my iex, exchang'dforthee,,
I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee;
O line extreme of human infamy!
Wanting the fciffars, with these hands I'll tear
(If that obftrućts my flight) this load of hair.
Black foot or yellow walnut fhall disgrace
This little red and white of Emma's face.
Thefe nails with fcratches fhalideformmybreast,
Left by my look or colour be express'd
The inark of aught high-born, or ever better
drefs'd.
Yet in this commerce, under this disguise,
Let me be grateful still in Henry's eyes;
Loft to the world, let me to him be known:
My fate I can abfolve; if he thall own,
That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone.)
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Are there not poifons, racks, and flames and
fwords;
That Emma thus muft die by Henry's words?
Yet what could fwords or poifon, racksor flame,
But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame ?
More fatal Henry's words: they murder Em-(
ma's fame.
And fall thefe fayings from that gentle tongue,
Where civil speech and foft perfuafion hung;
Whole artful sweetness and harmonious strain,
Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain,
Call'd fighs, and tears, and withes, to its aid.
And, whild it Henry's glowing flame convey'd
Still blam'd the coldness of the Nut-bro-wn Maid? )
Let envious jealoufy and canker'd fpite
Produce my actions to fevereft light,
And tax my open day, or fecret night.
Did e'er my tongue speak my unguarded heart
The leaft inclin'd to play the wanton's part?
Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal,
Which angels might not hear, and virgins tell?
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