Attentive stood the mournful nymph; the man 250 Broke silence first: the tale alternate ran.

HENRY.

Sincere, O tell me, hast thou felt a pain,
Emma, beyond what woman knows to feign?
Has thy uncertain bosom ever strove

With the first tumults of a real love?
Hast thou now dreaded, and now blest his sway,
By turns averse, and joyful to obey?

260

Thy virgin softness hast thou e'er bewail'd;
As Reason yielded, and as Love prevail'd?
And wept the potent god's resistless dart,
His killing pleasure, his ecstatic smart,
And heavenly poison thrilling through thy heart?
If so, with pity view my wretched state;
At least deplore, and then forget my fate:
To some more happy knight reserve thy charms?
By Fortune favour'd, and successful arms:
And only, as the sun's revolving ray
Brings back each year this melancholy day,
Permit one sigh, and set apart one tear,
To an abandon'd exile's endless care.
For me, alas! out-cast of human race,
Love's anger only waits, and dire disgrace;
For lo! these hands in murder are imbrued;
These trembling feet by justice are pursued:
Fate calls aloud, and hastens me away;
A shameful death attends my longer stay;
And I this night must fly from thee and love,
Condemn'd in lonely woods, a banish'd man, to

rove,

27C

EMMA.

280

What is our bliss, that changeth with the moon; And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon? What is true passion, if unblest it dies? And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies? If love, alas! be pain; the pain I bear No thought can figure, and no tongue declare. Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor false one feign'd, The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd: The god of love himself inhabits there, With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care, His complement of stores, and total war.

O! cease then coldly to suspect my love; And let my deed at least my faith approve. Alas! no youth shall my endearments share; Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care; No future story shall with truth upbraid The cold indifference of the Nut-brown Maid: Nor to hard banishment shall Henry run; While careless Emma sleeps on beds of down. View me resolv'd, where'er thou leadst, to go, Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy woe; For I attest fair Venus and her son, That I, of all mankind, will love but thee alone.

HENRY.

290

300

Let Prudence yet obstruct thy venturous way;
And take good heed, what men will think and say:
That beauteous Emma vagrant courses took;
Her father's house and civil life forsook;

That, full of youthful blood, and fond of man,
She to the woodland with an exile ran.

310

Reflect, that lessen'd fame is ne'er regain'd;
And virgin honour, once, is always stain'd:
Timely advis'd, the coming evil shun:
Better not do the deed, than weep it done.
No penance can absolve our guilty fame;
Nor tears, that wash out sin, can wash out shame.
Then fly the sad effects of desperate love;

And leave a banish'd man through lonely woods to

rove.

ΕΜΜΑ.

Let Emma's hapless case be falsely told By the rash young, or the ill-natur'd old: Let every tongue its various censures choose; Absolve with coldness, or with spite accuse: Fair truth at last her radiant beams will raise; 320 And malice vanquish'd heightens virtue's praise. Let then thy favour but indulge my flight; O! let my presence make thy travels light; And potent Venus shall exalt my name, Above the rumours of censorious Fame; Nor from that busy demon's restless power Will ever Emma other grace implore,

Than that this truth should to the world be known. That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone.

HENRY.

331

But canst thou wield the sword, and bend the bow? With active force repel the sturdy foe? When the loud tumult speaks the battle nigh, And winged deaths in whistling arrows fly; Wilt thou, though wounded, yet undaunted stay, Perform thy part, and share the dangerous day?

Then, as thy strength decays, thy heart will fail,
Thy limbs all trembling, and thy cheeks all pale;
With fruitless sorrow, thou, inglorious maid,
Wilt weep thy safety by thy love betray'd:
Then to thy friend, by foes o'ercharg'd, deny
Thy little useless aid, and coward fly:

340

Then wilt thou curse the chance that made thee love A banish'd man, condemn'd in lonely woods to rove.

EMMA.

350

With fatal certainty Thalestris knew To send the arrow from the twanging yew; And, great in arms, and foremost in the war, Bonduca brandish'd high the British spear. Could thirst of vengeance, and desire of fame Excite the female breast with martial flame? And shall not love's diviner power inspire More hardy virtue, and more generous fire? Near thee, mistrust not, constant I'll abide, And fall, or vanquish, fighting by thy side. Though my inferior strength may not allow, That I should bear or draw the warrior bow; With ready hand, I will the shaft supply, And joy to see thy victor arrows fly. Touch'd in the battle by the hostile reed, Shouldst thou (but Heaven avert it!) shouldst thou bleed;

To stop the wounds, my finest lawn I'd tear, 360 Wash them with tears, and wipe them with my hair;

Blest, when my dangers and my toils have shown, That I, of all mankind, could love but thee alone.

HENRY.

But canst thou, tender maid, canst thou sustain Afflictive want, or hunger's pressing pain? Those limbs, in lawn and softest silk array'd, From sunbeams guarded, and of winds afraid; Can they bear angry Jove? can they resist The parching dog-star, and the bleak north-east? When, chill'd by adverse snows and beating rain, We tread with weary steps the longsome plain; 371 When with hard toil we seek our evening food, Berries and acorns, from the neighbouring wood; And find among the cliffs no other house, But the thin covert of some gather'd boughs; Wilt thou not then reluctant send thine eye Around the dreary waste; and weeping try (Though then, alas! that trial be too late) To find thy father's hospitable gate,

379

And seats, where ease and plenty brooding sate? Those seats, whence long excluded thou must

mourn;

That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return;

Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,

And hate a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove?

EMMA.

Thy rise of fortune did I only wed,
From its decline determin'd to recede;
Did I but purpose to embark with thee
On the smooth surface of a summer's sea;
While gentle zephyrs play in prosperous gales,
And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails;

390