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Now lofty Calidon in Ruins lies; All Ages, all Degrees unfluice their Eyes; And Heav'n and Earth resound with Murmurs,

Groans, and Cries. Matrons and Maidens beat their Breasts, and tear Their Habits, and root up their scatter'd Hair : The wretched Father, Father now no more; in With Sorrow sunk, lies prostrate on the Floor, Deforms his hoary Locks with Dust obscene, And curfes Age, and loaths a Life prolong'd with

[Pain. By Steel her stubborn Soul his Mother freed, And punish'd on her felf her impious Deed.

Had I a hundred Tongues, a Wit so large As could their hundred Offices discharge; Had Phæbus all his Helicon bestow'd In all the Streams inspiring all the God; Those Tongues, that Wit, those Streams, that God Would offer to describe his Sisters Pain: [in vain They beat their Breasts with many abruizing Blow, Till they turn'd livid, and corrupt the Snow. The Corps they cherish, while the Corps remains, And exercise and rub with fruitless Pains;

And

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And when to Fun'ral Flames 'tis born away,
They kiss the Bed on which the Body lay:
And when those Fun'ral Flames no longer burn,
(The Dust compos'd within a pious Urn)
Ev'n in that Urn their Brother they confess,
And hugit in their Arms,and to their Bosoms press.
His Tomb is rais’d; then, stretch'd along the

Ground,
Those living Monuments his Tomb surround:
Ev'n to his Name, inscrib'd, their Tears they pay,
Till Tears and Kisses wear his Name away.

But Cynthia now had all her Fury spent, Not with less Ruin than a Race, content: Excepting Gorge, perish'd all the Seed, And * Her whom Heav'n for Hercules decreed. Satiate at last, no longer the pursu'd The weeping Sisters; but with Wings endu'd, And horny Beaks, and sent to flit in Air; Who yearly round the Tomb in feather'd Flocks

[repair. * Dejanira.

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HILE Norman Tancred in Salerno

reign’d, The Title of a gracious Prince he

gain'd; Till turn'd a Tyrant in his latter Days, He lost the Lustre of his former Praise; And from the bright Meridian where he stood, Descending, dipp'd his Hands in Lovers Blood.

This Prince, of Fortune's Favour long possess’d, Yet was with one fair Daughter only blefs’d; And bless’d he might have been with her alone: But oh! how much more happy, had he none !

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She was his Care, his Hope, and his Delight,
Moft in his Thought, and ever in his Sight:
Next, nay beyond his Life, he held her dear;
She liv'd by him, and now he liv'd in her.
For this, when ripe for Marriage, he delay'd
Her Nuptial Bands, and kept her long a Maid,
As envying any else should share a Part
Of what was his, and claiming all her Heart.
At length, as Publick Decency requir’d,
And all his Vassals eagerly desir’d,
With Mind averse, he rather underwent
His Peoples Will, than gave his own Consent:
So was she torn, as from a Lover's Side,
And made almost in his despite a Bride.

Short were her Marriage-Joys; for in the Prime
Of Youth, her Lord expir'd before his time:
And to her Father's Coust, in little space
Restor’d anew, she held a higher Place;
More lov'd, and more exalted into Grace.
This Princess fresh and young, and fair, and wise,
The worthipp'd Idol of her father's Eyes,

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Did all her Sex in ev'ry Grace exceed,
And had more Wit beside than Women need,
Youth, Health, and Ease, and most an amorous

Mind,
To fecond Nuptials had her Thoughts inclin'd
And former Joys had left a secret Sting behind.
But prodigal in ev'ry other Grant,
Her Sire left unsupply'd her only Want;
And she, betwixt her Modesty and Pride,
Her Wishes, which she could not help, would hide.

Resolv'd at last to lose no longer Time; And yet to please her self without a Crime, She cast her Eyes around the Court, to find A worthy Subject suiting to her Mind, To him in holy Nuptials to be tyd, A seeming Widow, and a secret Bride. Among the Train of Courtiers, one she found With all the Gifts of bounteous Nature crown'd, Of gentle Blood; but one whose niggard Fate Had set him far below her high Estate; Guiscard his Name was calld, of blooming Age, Now Squire to Tancred, and before his Page:

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