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The babe cry'd out, as if he understood,
By what expressions can my grief be shown ?
wound. And now appear’d the messenger of death ; Sad were his looks, and scarce he drew his
“ Your father sends you”-(with that
word His trembling hands presented me a sword :) " Your father fends
this ; and lets you know, “That your own crimes the use of it will show." Too well I know the sense those words im
part: His present shall be treasur’d in
heart. 116 Are these the nuptial gifts a bride receives ? And this the fatal dow'r a father gives ? Thou god of Marriage, fhun thy own disgrace, And take thy torch from this detested place : 120 Instead of that, let furies light their brands, And fire my pile with their infernal hands,
With happier fortune may my sisters wed;
How could thy infant innocence offend ?
my dead body burn;
And faithfully my last desires fulfil,
145 As I perform my cruel father's will. .
Ver. 146. As I perform] The subject of this epistle is so very disgusting an:: offensive, that I could not bring my mind to make any observation upon it, and suppose Dryden translated it only to complete the volume.
Dr. J. WARTON.
HELEN TO PARIS.
Helen, having received an epiftle from Paris, returns
the following answer : wherein she seems at firA to chide him for his presumption in writing as he had done, which could only proceed from his low opinion of her virtue : then owns herself to be senhble of the passion, which he had expressed for her, though she much suspected his constancy; and at last discovers her inclination to be favourable to him: the whole letter shewing the extreme artifice of womankind.
WHEN loose epistles violate chaste eyes,
Does this deserve to be rewarded fo ?
face there's no affected frown, 15 Nor in my carriage a feign’d niceness shown, I keep my honour still without a stain, Nor has
love made any coxcomb vain. Your boldness I with admiration fee; What hope had you to gain a queen like me? 20 Because a hero forc'd me once away, Am I thought fit to be a second prey ? Had I been won, I had deserv'd your blame, But sure my part was nothing but the shame. Yet the base theft to him no fruit did bear, I 'fcap'd unhurt by any thing but fear. Rude force might some unwilling kisses gain But that was all he ever could obtain. You on such terms would ne'er have let me go; Were he like you, we had not parted so. Untouch'd the youth restor’d me to my friends, And modest usage made me some amends. 'Tis virtue to repent a vicious deed, Did he repent, that Paris might fucceed? Sure'tis fome fate that sets me above wrongs, 55 Yet still exposes me to busy tongues.