Long time I dragg'd my Days in fruitless Care; Then loathing Life, and plung'd in deep Despair, To finish my unhappy Life, I fell

On this sharp Sword, and now am damn'd in Hell.

Short was her Joy; for foon th' insulting Maid
By Heav'n's Decree in the cold Grave was laid,
And as in unrepenting Sin fhe dy'd,
[Pride;

Doom'd to the fame bad Place, is punish'd for her
Because she deem'd I well deferv'd to die,
And made a Merit of her Cruelty.

There, then, we met; both try'd,and both were caft,
And this irrevocable Sentence pass'd;
That she whom I fo long purfu'd in vain,
Should fuffer from my Hands a lingring Pain:
Renew'd to Life, that she might daily die,
I daily doom'd to follow, fhe to fly;
No more a Lover but a mortal Foe,
I seek her Life (for Love is none below :)
As often as my Dogs with better speed
Arrest her Flight, is she to Death decreed.
Then with this fatal Sword, on which I dy'd,
I pierce her open'd Back or tender Side,

And

And tear that harden'd Heart from out her Breast,
Which, with her Entrails, makes my hungry
Hounds a Feast.

Nor lies the long, but as her Fates ordain,
Springs up to Life, and fresh to second Pain,
Is fav'd to Day, to Morrow to be slain.

This, vers'd in Death, th' infernal Knight relates, And then for Proof fulfill'd their common Fates; Her Heart and Bowels through her Back he drew, And fed the Hounds that help'd him to pursue. Stern look'd the Fiend, as fruftrate of his Will, Not half fuffic'd, and greedy yet to kill.

And now the Soul expiring through the Wound, Had left the Body breathless on the Ground, When thus the grifly Spectre spoke again: Behold the Fruit of ill-rewarded Pain:

As many Months as I fuftain'd her Haté,

So

many Years is the condemn'd by Fate
To daily Death; and ev'ry feveral Place,
Conscious of her Disdain, and my Disgrace,
Muft witnefs her juft Punishment; and be
A Scene of Triumph and Revenge to me.

As in this Grove I took my last Farewel,

As on this very spot of Earth I fell,
As Friday faw me die, fo she my Prey
Becomes ev'n here, on this revolving Day.

Thus while he spoke, the Virgin from theGround
Upstarted fresh, already clos'd the Wound,
And unconcern'd for all fhe felt before
Precipitates her Flight along the Shore:
[Blood
The Hell-hounds, as ungorg'd with Flesh and
Pursue their Prey, and feek their wonted Food:
The Fiend remounts his Courfer; mends his Pace,
And all the Vision vanish'd from the Place.

Long ftood the noble Youth opprefs'd with Awe, And stupid at the wond'rous Things he faw Surpafling common Faith; tranfgreffing Nature's(

Law.

He would have been afleep, and wifh'd to wake,
But Dreams, he knew, no long Impreffion make,
Though ftrong at firft: If Vifion, to what end,
But such as must his future State portend?
His Love the Damfel, and himself the Fiend.
But yet reflecting that it could not be

From Heav'n, which cannot impious Acts decree,

Refolv'd within himself to fhun the Snare
Which Hell for his Deftruction did prepare;

And as his better Genius fhould direct,

From an ill Cause to draw a good Effect.
Infpir'd from Heav'n he homeward took his way,
Nor pall'd his new Design with long delay:
But of his Train a trusty Servant sent ;
To call his Friends together at his Tent.
They came, and ufual Salutations paid,
With Words premeditated thus he said:
What you have often counsell'd, to remove
My vain Pursuit of unregarded Love;
By Thrift my finking Fortune to repair,
Tho' late, yet is at last become my Care:
My Heart fhall be my own; my vast Expence
Reduc'd to bounds, by timely Providence:
This only I require; invite for me

Honoria, with her Father's Family,

Her Friends, and mine; the Cause I fhall difplay, On Friday next, for that's th' appointed Day. Well pleas'd were all his Friends, the Task

was light;

The Father, Mother, Daughter they invite;

Hardly the Dame was drawn to this Repaft;
Eat yet refolv'd, because it was the last.
The Day was come; the Guests invited came,
And, with the reft, th' inexorable Dame:
A Feast prepar'd with riotous Expence,
Much Coft, more Care, and most Magnificence.
The Place ordain'd was in that haunted Grove,
Where the revenging Ghost purfu'd his Love:
The Tables in a proud Pavilion spread,
With Flow'rs below, and Tiffue over-head:
The rest in rank; Honoria chief in place,,
Was artfully contriv'd to fet her Face

To front the Thicket, and behold the Chace.
The Feast was ferv'd; the time fo well forecaft,
That just when the Deffert, and Fruits were
plac'd,

The Fiend's Alarm began; the hollow found
Sung in the Leaves, the Foreft shook around,
Air blacken'd; rowl'd the Thunder; groan'd
the Ground.

Nor long before the loud Laments arife,
Of one diftrefs'd, and Maftiffs mingled Cries;