Yet, if thou haft remaining in thy heart
Some fenfe of love, fome unextinguish'd part
Of former kindnefs, largely once profefs'd,
Let me by that adjure thy harden'd breast,
Not to deny thy daughter's last request:
The fecret love which I fo long enjoy'd,
And ftill conceal'd, to gratify thy pride,
Thou haft disjoin'd; but, with my dying breath,
Seek not, I beg thee, to disjoin our death;
Where'er his corps by thy command is laid,
Thither let mine in public be convey'd;
Expos'd in open view, and fide by fide,
Acknowledg'd as a bridegroom and a bride.
The prince's anguish hinder'd his reply:
And fhe, who felt her fate approaching nigh,
Seiz'd the cold heart, and heaving to her breaft,
Here, precious pledge, she said, securely rest:
These accents were her laft; the creeping death
Benumb'd her fenfes firft, then ftopp'd her breath.
Thus fhe for disobedience juftly dy'd:
The fire was juftly punish'd for his pride:
The youth, leaft guilty, fuffer'd for th' offence,
Of duty violated to his prince;
Who late repenting of his cruel deed,
One common fepulchre for both decreed;
Intomb'd the wretched pair in royal state,
And on their monument infcrib'd their fate.
F all the cities in Romanian lands,
The chief, and most renown'd, Ravenna stands,
Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts,
And rich inhabitants, with gen'rous hearts.
But Theodore the brave, above the reft,
With gifts of fortune and of nature blefs'd,
The foremost place for wealth and honour held,
And all in feats of chivalry excell❜d.
This noble youth to madness lov'd a dame,
Of high degree, Honoria was her name;
Fair as the faireft, but of haughty mind,
And fiercer than became fo foft a kind,
Proud of her birth; (for equal fhe had none;)
The reft the scorn'd; but hated him alone,
His gifts, his conftant courtship, nothing gain'd;
For fhe, the more he lov'd, the more difdain'd.
He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,
At tilts and tournaments obtain❜d the prize;
But found no favour in his lady's eyes:
Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid,
Turn'd all to poison, that he did or said:
Nor pray❜rs, nor tears, nor offer'd vows, could move;
The work went backward; and the more he ftrove
T'advance his fuit, the farther from her love.
Weary'd at length, and wanting remedy,
He doubted oft, and oft refolv'd to die.
But pride stood ready to prevent the blow,
For who would die to gratify a foe?
His gen'rous mind disdain'd so mean a fate;
That pafs'd, his next endeavour was to hate..
But vainer that relief than all the reft,
The lefs he hop'd, with more defire poffefs'd;
'Love ftood the fiege, and would not yield his breast.
Change was the next, but change deceiv'd his care;
He fought a fairer, but found none so fair.
He would have worn her out by flow degrees,
As men by fafting starve th' untam'd disease:
But prefent love requir'd a prefent ease.
Looking he feeds alone his famifh'd eyes,
Feeds ling'ring death, but looking not he dies.
Yet still he chose the longest way to fate,
Wafting at once his life, and his estate.
His friends beheld, and pity'd him in vain,
For what advice can ease a lover's pain!
Abfence, the best expedient they could find,
Might fave the fortune, if not cure the mind:
This means they long propos'd, but little gain'd,
Yet after much purfuit, at length obtain❜d.
Hard you may think it was to give consent,
But ftruggling with his own defires he went,
With large expence, and with a pompous train,
Provided as to vifit France and Spain,
Or for fome diftant voyage o'er the main.
But love had clipp'd his wings, and cut him short,
Confin'd within the purlieus of the court.
Three miles he went, nor farther could retreat;
His travels ended at his country-feat:
To Chaffis' pleafing plains he took his way,
There pitch'd his tents, and there refolv'd to stay.
The spring was in the prime; the neighb'ring grove
Supply'd with birds, the chorifters of love:
Mufic unbought, that minister'd delight
To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by night:
There he discharg'd his friends; but not th' expence
Of frequent treats, and proud magnificence.
He liv'd as kings retire, tho' more at large
From public business, yet with equal charge;
With houfe, and heart ftill open to receive;
As well content as love would give him leave:
He would have liv'd more free; but many a guest,
Who could forfake the friend, purfu'd the feaft.
It happ'd one morning, as his fancy led,
Before his ufual hour he left his bed;
To walk within a lonely lawn, that stood
On ev'ry fide furrounded by a wood:
Alone he walk'd, to please his penfive mind,
And fought the deepest folitude to find;
'Twas in a grove of spreading pines he ftray'd;
The winds within the quiv'ring branches play'd,
And dancing trees a mournful mufic made.
The place itself was fuiting to his care,
Uncouth and favage, as the cruel fair.
He wander'd on, unknowing where he went,
Loft in the wood, and all on love intent:
The day already half his race had run,
And fummon'd him to due repast at noon,
But love could feel no hunger but his own.
Whilst lift'ning to the murm'ring leaves he stood,
More than a mile immers'd within the wood,
At once the wind was laid; the whisp'ring found
Was dumb; a rifing earthquake rock'd the ground;
With deeper brown the grove was overspread;
A fudden horror feiz'd his giddy head,
And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled,
Nature was in alarm; fome danger nigh
Seem'd threaten'd, tho' unfeen to mortal eye.
Unus'd to fear, he fummon'd all his foul,
And stood collected in himself, and whole;
Not long: for foon a whirlwind rofe around,
And from afar he heard a fcreaming found,
As of a dame distress'd, who cry'd for aid,
And fill'd with loud laments the secret fhade.
A thicket close befide the grove there ftood,
With briers and brambles choak'd, and dwarfish wood;
From thence the noife, which now approaching near,
With more diftinguish'd notes invades his ear;
He rais'd his head, and faw a beauteous maid,
With hair difhevell'd, iffuing thro' the shade;
Stripp'd of her clothes, and e'en those parts reveal'd,
Which modeft nature keeps from fight conceal'd.
Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn,
With paffing thro' the brakes, and prickly thorn;
Two maftiffs gaunt and grim her flight purfu'd,
And oft their faften'd fangs in blood embru'd :
Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender fide,
Mercy, O mercy, heav'n, she ran, and cry'd;
When heav'n was nam'd, they loos'd their hold again,
Then sprung fhe forth, they follow'd her amain.
Not far behind, a knight of fwarthy face,
High on a coal-black fteed purfu'd the chace;
With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd,
And in his hand a naked fword he held:
He chear'd the dogs to follow her who fled,
And vow'd revenge on her devoted head.
As Theodore was born of noble kind,
The brutal action rous'd his manly mind;
Mov'd with unworthy usage of the maid,
He, tho' unarm'd, refolv'd to give her aid.
A faplin pine he wrench'd from out the ground,
The readieft weapon that his fury found.
Thus furnish'd for offence, he cross'd the way
Betwixt the graceless villain, and his prey.
The knight came thund'ring on, but, from afar,
Thus in imperious tone forbad the war:
Ceafe, Theodore, to proffer vain relief,
Nor ftop the vengeance of fo juft a grief;
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