An antique castle tow'ring stood,
In Gothic grandeur rose the pile.
Here Raymond, long in arms renown'd,
From scenes of war would oft repair:
His bed an only daughter crown'd,
And smil'd away a father's care.
By Nature's happiest pencil drawn,
She wore the vernal morning's ray;
The vernal morning's blushing dawn
Breaks not so bounteous into day.
Her breast, impatient of control,
Scorn'd in its silken chains to lie,
And the soft language of the soul
Flow'd from her never-silent eye.
The bloom that open'd on her face
Well seem'd the emblem of her mind,
Where snowy innocence we trace

With blushing modesty combin'd.
To these resistless grace impart

That look of sweetness form'd to please,
That elegance devoid of art,

That dignity that's lost in ease.
What youth so cold could view unmov'd
The maid that ev'ry beauty shar'd?
Her Armine saw; he saw; he lov'd;
He lov'd-alas! and he despair'd!
Unhappy youth! he sunk opprest;
For much he labor'd to conceal
That gentle passion of the breast,
Which all can feign, but few can feel.
Ingenuous fears suppress'd the flame,
Yet still he own'd its hidden power;
With transport dwelling on her name,
He sooth'd the solitary hour.

"How long," he cry'd, "must I conceal
"What yet my heart could wish were known?
"How long the truest passion feel,

"And yet that passion fear to own? "Ah, might I breathe my humble vow!

Might she too deign to lend an ear! "Elvira's self should then allow

"That Armine was at least sincere. "Wild wish! to deem the matchless maid "Would listen to a youth like me, "Or that my vows could e'er persuade, "Sincere and constant though they be! "Ah! what avail my love or truth?

"She listens to no lowly swain; "Her charms must bless some happier youth, "Some youth of Fortune's titled train. "Then go, fallacious Hope! adieu ! "The flattering prospect I resign; "And bear from my deluded view "The bliss that never must be mine! "Yet will the youth, whoe'er he be, "In truth or tenderness excel? "Or will he on thy charms like me

"With fondness never-dying dwell?

"Will he with thine his hopes unite? "With ready zeal thy joys improve? "With fond attention and delight

"Each wish prevent, each fear remove?
"Will he, still faithful to thy charms,
"For constant love be long rever'd?
"Nor quit that heaven within thy arms
"By every tender tie endear'd?
"What though his boastful heart be vain
"Of all that birth or fortune gave,
"Yet is not mine, though rude and plain,
"At least as noble and as brave?
"Then be its gentle suit preferr'd!
"Its tender sighs Elvira hear!
"In vain-I sigh-but sigh unheard;
"Unpitied falls this lonely tear !"
Twice twelve revolving moons had pass'd,
Since first he caught the fatal view;
Unchang'd by time his sorrows last,
Uncheer'd by hope his passion grew.
That passion to indulge, he sought

In Raymond's groves the deepest shade;
There fancy's haunting spirit brought
The image of his long-lov'd maid.
But hark! what more than mortal sound
Steals on Attention's raptur'd ear?
The voice of harmony around

Swells in wild whispers soft and clear.
Can human hand a tone so fine

Sweep from the string with touch prophane? Can human lip with breath divine Pour on the gale so sweet a strain ? 'Tis she-the source of Armine's woe'Tis she-whence all his joy must springFrom her lov'd lips the numbers flow,

Her magic hand awakes the string. Now, Armine, now thy love proclaim, Thy instant suit the time demands; Delay not-Tumult shakes his frame,

And lost in ecstasy he stands.

What magic chains thee to the ground?
What star malignant rules the hour,
That thus in fix'd delirium drown'd
Each sense entranc'd hath lost its pow'r?
The trance dispel! awake! arise!

Speak what untutor'd love inspires!
The moment's past-thy wild surprise
She sees, nor unalarm'd retires.
"Stay, sweet illusion! stay thy flight!
"Tis gone!-Elvira's form it wore-
"Yet one more glimpse of short delight!
""Tis gone, to be beheld no more!

Fly, loitering feet! the charm pursue

That plays upon my hopes and fears! "Hah!-no illusion mocks my view!

"'Tis she-Elvira's self appears! "And shall I ́on her steps intrude?

"Alarm her in these lonely shades?

"O stay, fair nymph! no ruffian rude “With base intent your walk invades. "Far gentler thoughts"-his faltering tongue, By humble diffidence restrain'd, Paus'd in suspense-but thus ere long,

As love impell'd, its power regain'd:
"Far gentler thoughts that form inspires;
"With me far gentler passions dwell;
"This heart hides only blameless fires,
"Yet burns with what it fears to tell.
"The faltering voice that fears control,
"Blushes that inward fires declare,
"Each tender tumult of the soul

"In silence owns Elvira there."
He said; and as the trembling dove
Sent forth t' explore the wat'ry plain,
Soon fear'd her flight might fatal
prove,
And sudden sought her ark again,
His heart recoil'd; as one that rued
What he too hastily confess'd,
And all the rising soul subdued
Sought refuge in his inmost breast.
The tender strife Elvira saw

Distrest; and as some parent mild,
When arm'd with words and looks of awe,
Melts o'er the terrors of her child,
Reproof prepar'd and angry fear
In soft sensations died away;
They felt the force of Armine's tear,
And fled from pity's rising sway.

"That mournful voice, that modest air,

alone;

"A heart," he cries, "that's yours
Long has it own'd Elvira's sway,
"Though long unnotic'd and unknown.

"On Sherwood's old heroic plain

"Elvira grac'd the festal day; "There, foremost of the youthful train, "Her Armine bore the prize away. "There first that form my eyes survey'd,

With future hopes that fill'd my heart; "But ah! beneath that frown they fade"Depart, vain, vanquish'd hope! depart!" He said; and on the ground his eyes

Were fix'd abash'd; th' attentive maid, Lost in the tumult of surprise,

The well-remember'd youth survey'd. The transient color went and came; The struggling bosom sunk and rose; The trembling tumults of her frame The strong conflicting soul disclose.

The time, the scene she saw with dread,
Like Cynthia setting glanc'd away:
But scatter'd blushes as she fled,
Blushes that spoke a brighter day.
A friendly shepherd's neighbouring shed
To pass the live-long night he sought:
And Hope, the lover's downy bed,

A sweeter charm than slumber brought.
On every thought Elvira dwelt,
The tender air, the aspect kind,
The pity that he found she felt,
And all the angel in her mind.
No self-plum'd vanity was there,
With fancy'd consequence elate;
Unknown to her the haughty air

That means to speak superior state. Her brow no stern resentments arm,

No swell of empty pride she knew, In trivial minds that takes th' alarm,

Should humble Love aspire to sue. Such Love, by flattering charms betray'd, Shall yet, indignant, soon rebel, And, blushing for the choice he made, Shall fly where gentler virtues dwell. 'Tis then the mind, from bondage free, And all its former weakness o'er, Asserts its native dignity,

And scorns what folly priz'd before. The scanty pane the rising ray

On the plain wall in diamonds threw, The lover hail'd the welcome day,

And to his favorite scene he flew.

There soon Elvira bent her way,

Where long her lonely walks had been; Nor less had the preceding day,

Nor Armine less endear'd the scene.

Oft, as she pass'd, her rising heart
Its stronger tenderness confess'd,
And oft she linger'd to impart

To some soft shade her secret breast. "How slow the heavy hours advance," She cry'd, "since that eventful day, "When first I caught the fatal glance "That stole me from myself away!

"Ah, youth belov'd! though low thy birth, "The noble air, the manly grace, "That look that speaks superior worth, "Can fashion, folly, fear erase?

"Yet sure from no ignoble stem

Thylineage springs, though now unknown: "The world censorious may condemn, "But, Armine, I am thine alone. "To splendor only do we live? "Must pomp alone our thoughts employ? "All, all that pomp and splendor give "Is dearly bought with love and joy! "But oh !-the favor'd youth appears→ "In pensive grief he seems to move :

"Hither his footsteps seem to bend
"Come, Resolution, to my aid!
"My breast what varying passions rend!
"Averse to go-to stay-afraid!"
"Dear object of each fond desire

"That throbs tumultuous in my breast! "Why with averted glance retire?

"At Armine's presence why distrest? "What though he boast no titled name,

"No wide extent of rich domain, "Yet must he feed a hopeless flame?

"Must truth and nature plead in vain ? "Think not," she said, by forms betray'd, "To humbler worth my heart is blind; "For soon shall every splendor fade, "That beams not from thy gifted mind. "But first thy heart explore with care, "With faith its fond emotions prove; "Lurks no unworthy passion there?

66

Prompts not ambition bold to love?" "Yes, lovely maid," the youth replies,

"A bold ambition prompts my breast, "The towering hope that love supplies, "The wish in blessing to be blest. "The meaner prospects I despise

"That wealth, or rank, or power bestow; "Be yours the grovelling bliss ye prize, "Ye sordid minds that stoop so low! "Be mine the more refin'd delights

"Of love that banishes control, "When the fond heart with heart unites, "And soul's in unison with soul."

Elvira blush'd the warm reply,

(To love a language not unknown,) The milder glories fill'd her eye, And there a softer lustre shone.

The yielding smile that 's half supprest,

The short quick breath, the trembling tear, The swell tumultuous of the breast,

In Armine's favor all appear.

At each kind glance their souls unite,
While love's soft sympathy imparts
That tender transport of delight

That beats in undivided hearts.
Respectful to his lips he press'd

Her yielded hand; in haste away Her yielded hand she drew distrest,

With looks that witness'd wild dismay. "Ah whence, fair excellence, those fears? "What terror unforeseen alarms?" "See! where a father's frown appears”— She said, and sunk into his arms. "My daughter! heavens! it cannot be-"And yet it must-O dire disgrace! "Elvira have I liv'd to see

"Clasp'd in a peasant's vile embrace!

"This daring guilt let death repay"His vengeful arm the javelin threw, With erring aim it wing'd its way, And far, by Fate averted, flew. Elvira breathes her pulses beat, Returning life illumes her eye: Trembling a father's view to meet, She spies a reverend hermit nigh. "Your wrath," she cries, "let tears assuage"Unheeded must Elvira pray? “O let an injur'd father's rage

"This hermit's sacred presence stay! "Yet deem not, lost in guilty love,

"I plead to save my virgin fame; "My weakness Virtue might approve, "And smile on nature's holy flame." "O welcome to my hopes again,

My son!" the raptur'd hermit cries; "I sought thee sorrowing on the plain:" And all the father fill'd his eyes. "Art thou," the raging Raymond said, "Of this audacious boy the sire? "Curse on the dart that idly sped,

"Nor bade his peasant soul expire!" "His peasant soul !"-indignant fire Flash'd from the conscious father's eye: "A gallant earl is Armine's sire,

"Ånd know, proud chief, that earl am L

Though here, within the hermit's cell, "I long have liv'd unknown to fame, "Yet crowded camps and courts can tell"Thou too hast heard of Egbert's name." "Hah! Egbert! he, whom tyrant rage "Forc'd from his country's bleeding breast? "The patron of my orphan age,

My friend, my warrior stands confest! "But why?"—" The painful story spare:

That prostrate youth," said Egbert, “see; "His anguish asks a parent's care, "A parent, once who pitied thee!" Raymond, as one who, glancing round,

Seems from some sudden 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 best triumph led,
For Love and Virtue join'd her train.

§ 136. An Italian Song. ROGERS.
DEAR is my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and warbles there;
Close by my cot she tells her tale
To every passing villager.
The squirrel 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 lute's romantic sound;
Or crowns of living laurel weave,
For those that win the race at eve.

The shepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danc'd in twilight glade,
The canzonet and roundelay
Sung in the silent greenwood shade;
These simple joys, that never fail,
Shall bind me to my native vale.

When dreadful Edward with successful 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 honorable ease and rural sport,

The remnant of his days he safely pass'd;
Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too

fast.

TO CHLOE.

THOU, to whose eyes I bend; at whose command [hand) (Though low my voice, though artless be my I take the sprightly reed, and sing, and play; Careless of what the censuring world may say: Bright Chloe, object of my constant vow, Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow? Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains, And with one heav'nly smile o'erpay his pains? No longer shall the Nut-Brown Maid be old; Though since her youth three hundred years have roll'd.

At thy desire, she shall again be rais'd; And her reviving charms in lasting verse be prais'd.

No longer man of woman shall complain, That he may love and not be lov'd again: That we in vain the fickle sex pursue, Who change the constant lover for the new. Whatever has been writ, whatever said, Of female passion feign'd, or faith decay'd: Henceforth shall in my verse refuted stand, Be said to winds, or writ upon the sand. And, while my notes to future times proclaim Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame; O fairest of the sex! be thou my Muse: Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse: Let me partake the blessings 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 ador'd thy face; And as her son has to my bosom dealt That constant flame, which faithful Henry felt; O let the story with thy life agree: Let men once more the bright example see; What Emma was to him, be thou to me. Nor send me by thy frown from her I love, Distant and sad, a banish'd man to rove. But oh! with pity long-entreated crown My pains and hopes; and, when thou say'st [alone. Of all mankind thou lov'st, oh! think on me

that one

WHERE beauteous Isis and her husband Tame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron liv'd;
Great gifts bestow'd, and great respect receiv'd.

Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

One child he had, a daughter chaste and fair,
His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir.
They call'd her Emma; 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 she play'd,
He call'd her oft, in sport, his Nut-Brown Maid;
The friends and tenants took the fondling word
(As still they please, who imitate their lord);
Usage confirm'd what fancy had begun;
The mutual terms around the lands were
known;
[one.
And Emma and the Nut-Brown Maid were
As with her stature, still her charms increas'd;
Through all the isle her beauty was confess'd.
Oh! what perfections must that virgin share,
Who fairest is esteem'd, where all the fair!
From distant shires repair the noble youth,
And find report, for once, had lessen'd truth.
By wonder first, and then by passion mov'd,
They came; they saw; they marvell'd; and they
lov'd.

By public praises, and by secret sighs,
Each own'd the gen'ral power of Emma's eyes.
In tilts and tournaments the valiant strove,
By glorious deeds to purchase Emma's love.
In gentle verse, the witty told their flame,
And grac'd their choicest songs with Emma's

In his right hand his beechen pole he bears:
And graceful at his side his horn he wears.
Still to the glade, where she has bent her way,
With knowing skill he drives the future prey;
Bids her decline the hill, and shun the brake;
And shows the path her steed may safely take;
Directs her spear to fix the glorious wound;
Pleas'd, in his toils, to have her triumph
crown'd;

And blows her praises with no common sound.

A fale ner Henry is, when Emma hawks:
With her of tarsels and of lures he talks.
Upon his wrist the tow'ring merlin stands,
Practis'd to rise, and stoop, at her commands.
And when superior now the bird has flown,
And headlong brought the tumbling quarry
down;

With humble rev'rence he accosts the fair,
And with the honor'd feather decks her hair.
Yet still, as from the sportive field he goes,
His downcast eye reveals his inward woes;
And by his look and sorrow is exprest,
A nobler game pursued than bird or beast.

A shepherd now along the plain he roves; And, with his jolly pipe, delights the groves. The neighb'ring swains around the stranger throng,

song:

Or to admire or emulate his
While, with soft sorrow, he renews his lays,
Nor heedful of their envy, nor their praise.
But, soon as Emma's eyes adorn the plain,
His notes he raises to a nobler strain;
With dutiful respect, and studious fear,
Lest any careless sound offend her car.

A frantic gipsy, now the house he haunts,
And in wild phrases speaks dissembled wants.
With the fond maids in palmistry he deals:
They tell the secret first, which he reveals:
Says who shall wed, and who shall be beguil'd;
What groom shall get,
and squire maintain the

child. But when bright Emma would her fortune know,

A softer look unbends his op'ning brow;
With trembling awe he gazes on her eye,
And in soft accents forms the kind reply;
That she shall prove as fortunate as fair,
And Hymen's choicest gifts are all reserv'd for
her.

Now oft had Henry chang'd his sly disguise,
Unmark'd by all but beauteous Emina's eyes;
Oft had found means alone to see the dame,
And at her feet to breathe his am'rous flame;
And oft, the pangs of absence to remove,
By letters, soft interpreters of love:
Till time and industry, the mighty two
That bring our wishes 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 share of Henry's
pain.

While Cupid smil'd, by kind occasion blest, And, with the secret kept, the love increas'd:

O impotent estate of human life! Where hope and fear maintain eternal strife; Where flecting joy does lasting doubt inspire; And most we question what we most desire. Amongst thy various gifts, great Heaven, bestow Our cup of love unmix'd; forbear to throw Bitter ingredients in; nor pall the draught With nauseous grief; for our ill-judging thought Hardly enjoys the pleasurable taste; Or deems it not sincere; or fears it cannot last. With wishes rais'd, with jealousies opprest, (Alternate tyrants of the human breast) By one great trial he resolves to prove The faith of women, and the force of love. If, scanning Emma's virtues, he may find That beauteous frame inclose a steady mind, He'll fix his hope, of future joy secure; And live a slave to Hymen's happy pow'r. But if the fair one, as he fears, is frail; If, pois'd aright in reason's equal scale, Light fly her merits, and her faults prevail; His mind he vows to free from ain'rous care, The latent mischief from his heart to tear, Resume his azure arms, and shine again in war.

South of the castle, in a verdant glade,
A spreading beech extends her friendly shade:
Here oft the nymph his breathing vows had
heard;

Here oft her silence had her heart declar'd.
As active spring awak'd her infant buds,
And genial life inform'd the verdant woods,
Henry, in knots involving Emma's name,
Had half express'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 soft address,
That as the wound, the passion might increase.
As potent nature shed her kindly show'rs,
And deck'd the various mead with op'ning
flow'rs;

Upon the 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 conquest, with her present
crown'd.

Glorious through all the plains he oft had gone,
And to each swain the mystic honor shown;
The gift still prais'd, the giver still unknown.

His secret note the troubled Henry writes; To the known tree the lovely maid invites: Imperfect words and dubious terms express, That unforeseen mischance disturb'd his peace,