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Did e'er my tongue speak my unguarded heart
The leaft inclin'd to play the wanton's part?
Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal,
Which angels might not hear, and virgins tell?
And haft thou, Henry, in my conduct known
One fault, but that which I must never own,

That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone?
HEN NRY.

Vainly thou talk'st of loving me alone:
Each man is man; and all our sex is one.
Falfe are our words, and fickle is our mind:
Nor in Love's ritual can we ever find
Vows made to laft, or promises to bind.

By Nature prompted, and for empire made,
Alike by ftrength or cunning we invade :
When arm'd with rage we march against the foe,
We lift the battle-axe, and draw the bow:
When, fir'd with paffion, we attack the fair,
Delufive fighs and brittle vows we bear;
Our falfehood and our arms have equal ufe;
As they our conqueft or delight produce.
The foolish heart thou gav'ft, again receive,
The only boon departing love can give.
To be lefs wretched, be no longer true;
What ftrives to fly thee, why fhould'st thou purfue?
Forget the prefent flame, indulge a new ;
Single the lovelieft of the amorous youth;
Afk for his vow; but hope not for his truth.
The next man (and the next thou fhalt believe)
Will pawn his gods, intending to deceive;
Will kneel, implore, perfift, o'ercome, and leave.

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Hence

Hence let thy Cupid aim his arrows right;
Be wife and falfe, fhun trouble, feek delight;
Change thou the first, nor wait thy lover's flight.

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Why should'st thou weep? let Nature judge our cafe ;
I faw thee young and fair; purfued the chase
Of Youth and Beauty: I another faw
Fairer and younger: yielding to the law
Of our all-ruling mother, I pursued
More youth, more beauty: bleft viciffitude!
My active heart ftill keeps its priftine flame;
The object alter'd, the defire the fame.

This younger, fairer, pleads her rightful charms;
With present power compels me to her arms.
And much I fear, from my fubjected mind.
(If Beauty's force to conftant Love can bind),
That years may roll, ere in her turn the maid
Shall weep the fury of my love decay'd;
And weeping follow me, as thou dost now,
With idle clamours of a broken vow.

Nor can the wildness of thy wishes err
So wide, to hope that thou may'ft live with her.
Love, well thou know'ft, no partnership allows :
Cupid averfe rejects divided vows:

Then from thy foolish heart, vain maid, remove
An ufelefs forrow, and an ill-ftarr'd love;

And leave me, with the fair, at large in woods to

rove.

EMMA.

Are we in life through one great error led?
Is each man perjur'd, and each nymph betray'd?

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Of

Of the fuperior fex art thou the worst ?
Am I of mine the most completely curft?
Yet let me go with thee: and going prove,
From what I will endure, how much I love.
This potent beauty, this triumphant fair,
This happy object of our different care,
Her let me follow; her let me attend
A fervant (fhe may scorn the name of friend).
What she demands, inceffant I'll prepare:
I'll weave her garlands; and I'll plait her hair :
My bufy diligence shall deck her board
(For there at leaft I may approach my Lord);
And, when her Henry's fofter hours advise
His fervant's abfence, with dejected eyes
Far I'll recede, and fighs forbid to rife.

Yet, when increasing grief brings flow disease ;
And ebbing life, on terms severe as these,
Will have its little lamp no longer fed;
When Henry's mistress fhews him Emma dead;
Rescue my poor remains from vile neglect :
With virgin honours let my hearse be deckt,
And decent emblem; and at leaft perfuade
This happy nymph, that Emma may be laid
Where thou, dear author of my death, where she,
With frequent eye my fepulchre may fee.
The nymph amidst her joys may haply breathe
One pious figh, reflecting on my death,
And the fad fate which she may one day prove,
Who hopes from Henry's vows eternal love.

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And

And thou forfworn, thou cruel, as thou art,
If Emma's image ever touch'd thy heart;
Thou fure must give one thought, and drop one tear
To her, whom love abandon'd to defpair;

To her, who, dying, on the wounded stone
Bid it in lafting characters be known,
That, of mankind, fhe lov'd but thee alone.
HENRY.

Hear, folemn Jove; and conscious Venus, hear;
And thou, bright maid, believe me whilst I swear;
No time, no change, no future flame, shall move
The well-plac'd bafis of my lasting love.

O powerful virtue ! O victorious fair!

At least excufe a trial too fevere :

Receive the triumph, and forget the war.

No banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove,
Intreats thy pardon, and implores thy love :
No perjur'd knight defires to quit thy arms,
Faireft collection of thy fex's charms,

Crown of my love, and honour of my youth!
Henry, thy Henry, with eternal truth,
As thou may'ft wifh, fhall all his life employ,
And found his glory in his Emma's joy.
In me behold the potent Edgar's heir,
Illuftrious earl: him terrible in war

Let Loyre confefs, for she has felt his fword,
And trembling fled before the British lord.
Him great in peace and wealth fair Deva knows;
For fhe amidft his fpacious meadows flows;

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Inclines

Inclines her urn upon his fatten'd lands;

And fees his numerous herds imprint her fands.
And thou, my fair, my dove, fhalt raise thy thought
To greatness next to empire: fhalt be brought
With folemn pomp to my paternal feat ;

Where peace and plenty on thy word fhall wait.
Mufic and fong fhall wake the marriage-day :
And, whilft the priests accuse the bride's dèlay,
Myrtles and rofes fhall obftruct her way.

Friendship fhall ftill thy evening feasts adorn;
And blooming Peace fhall ever blefs thy morn.
Succeeding years their happy race fhall run,
And age unheeded by delight come on:
While yet fuperior Love fhall mock his power:
And when old Time fhall turn the fated hour,
Which only can our well-tied knot unfold;
What refts of both, one fepulchre shall hold.

Hence then for ever from my Emma's breast
(That heaven of foftnefs, and that feat of reft)
Ye doubts and fears, and all that know to move
Tormenting grief, and all that trouble love,
Scatter'd by winds recede, and wild in forests rove.
EMMA.

O day the faireft fure that ever rose!

Period and end of anxious Emma's woes!
Sire of her joy, and source of her delight;

O! wing'd with pleasure, take thy happy flight,
And give each future morn a tincture of thy white.
Yet tell thy votary, potent Queen of Love,
Henry, my Henry, will he never rove?..

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