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Green Eton, soft abode of every muse.
Each classic beauty he soon made his own ;
And soon fam'd Isis saw him woo the nine
On her inspiring banks. Love tun'd his song ;
For fair Theana was his only theme,
Acasto's daughter, whom in early youth
He oft distinguish'd; and for whom he oft
Had climb’d the bending cocoa's airy height,
To rob it of its nectar ; which the maid,
When he presented, more nectareous deem’d.
The sweetest sappadillas oft he brought;
From him more sweet ripe sappadillas seem'd.
Nor had long absence yet effac'd her form;
Her charms still triumph o’er Britannia's fair.
One morn he met her in Sheen's royal walks ;
Nor knew, till then, sweet Sheen contain'd his all.
His taste mature approv'd his infant choice.
In colour, form, expression, and in grace,
She shone all perfect; while each pleasing art,
And each soft virtue that the sex adorns,
Adorn’d the woman. My imperfect strain
Can ill describe the transports Junio felt
At this discov’ry; he declar'd his love ;
She own'd his merit, nor refus’d his hand.
And shall not Hymen light his brightest torch
For this delighted pair! Ah, Junio knew
His sire detested his Theana's house !
Thus duty, rev'rence, gratitude conspir'd
To check their happy union. He resolv'd
(And many a sigh that resolution cost)
To pass the time, till death his sire remov’d,
In visiting old Europe's letter'd climes :
While she (and many a tear that parting drew)
Embark’d, reluctant, for her native isle.
Though learned, curious, and though noble, bent
With each rare talent to adorn his mind,
His native land to serve; no joys he found.
Yet sprightly Gaul; yet Belgium, Saturn's reign;
Yet Greece, of old the seat of ev'ry muse,
Of freedom, courage; yet Ausonia's clime
His steps explor’d, where panting music's strains,
Where arts, where laws, (philosophy's best child,)
With rival beauties his attention claim'd,
To his just judging, his instructed eye,
The all perfect Medicean Venus seem'd
A perfect semblance of his Indian fair.
But when she spoke of love, her voice surpass'd
The harmonious warblings of Italian song.
Twic one long year elaps’d, when letters came,
Which briefly told him of his father's death.
Afflicted filial, yet to Heav'n resign’d,
Soon he reach'd Albion, and as soon embark’d,
Eager to clasp the object of his love.
Blow, prosp'rous breezes; swiftly sail, thou Po: Swift sail'd the Po, and happy breezes blew.
In Biscay's stormy seas, an armed ship,
Of force superior, from loud Charante's wave,
Clapp'd them on board. The frighted flying crew
The colours strike; when dauntless Junio, fir'd
With noble indignation, kill'd the chief,
Who on the bloody deck dealt slaughter round.
The Gauls retreat ; the Britons loud huzza ;
And touch'd with shame, with emulation stung,
So plied their cannon, plied their missile fires,
That soon in air the hapless Thunder blew.
Blow, prosp'rous breezes ; swiftly sail, thou Po: May no more dang’rous fights retard thy way!
Soon Porto Santo's rocky heights they spy,
Like clouds dim rising in the distant sky.
Glad Eurus whistles, laugh the sportive crew,
Each sail is set to catch the fav’ring gale,
While on the yard-arm the harpooner sits,
Strikes the boneta, or the shark ensnares ;
The little nautilus, with purple pride
Expands his sails, and dances o'er the waves :
Small wing'd fishes on the shrouds alight;
And beauteous dolphins gently play around.
Though faster than the tropic bird they flew,
Oft Junio cried, " Ah! when shall we see land ?”
Soon land they made; and now in thought he clasp'd
His Indian bride, and deem’d his toils o'erpaid.
She, no less anxious, ev'ry evening walk'u On the cool margin of the purple main, Intent her Junio’s vessel to descry.
One eve (faint calms for many a day had rag'd)
The winged demons of the tempest rose !
Thunder, and rain, and lightning's awful pow'r.
She fled : could innocence, could beauty claim
Exemption from the grave, the ethereal bolt,
That stretch'd her speechless, o'er her lovely head
Had innocently rolld.
Meanwhile impatient Junio leap'd ashore,
Regardless of the demons of the storm.
Ah, youth! what woes too great for man to bear,
Are ready to burst on thee? Urge not so
Thy flying courser. Soon Theana's porch
Receiv’d him; at his sight the ancient slaves
Affrighted shriek, and to the chamber point :-
Confounded, yet unknowing what they meant,
He enter'd hasty
Ah! what a sight for one who loved so well !
All pale and cold, in ev'ry feature death,
Theana lay; and yet a glimpse of joy
Play'd on her face, while with faint fault'ring voice
She thus address'd the youth whom yet she knew :
“Welcome, my Junio, to thy native shore !
“Thy sight repays this summons of my
“ Live, and live happy; sometimes think of me;
By night, by day, you still engag'd my care ;
And, next to God, you now my thoughts employ.
"Accept of this—My little all I give;
“Would it were larger.”—Nature could no more ;
She look'd, embrac'd him, with a groan expir'd.
But say, what strains, what language can express
The thousand pangs, which tore the lover's breast.
Upon her breathless corse himself he threw,
And to her clay-cold lips, with trembling haste,
Ten thousand kisses gave.
He strove to speak :
Nor words he found : he clasp'd her in his arms ;
He sigh’d, he swoon'd, look'd up, and died away.
One grave contains this hapless, faithful pair; And still the Cane-isles tell their matchless love!
DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH.
My name is Norval: on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flock; a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only son, myself, at home.
For I had heard of battles, and I long’d
To follow to the field some warlike lord ;
And Heav'n soon granted what my sire denied.
This moon, which rose last night round as my shield,
Had not yet filled her horns, when, by her light,
A band of fierce barbarians from the hills
Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled
For safety, and for succour. I alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd
The road he took, then hasted to my
; Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, I met advancing. The pursuit I led, Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe. We fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn, An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief, Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd The shepherd's slothful life; and having heard, That our good king had summon'd his bold peers, To lead their warriors to the Carron side, I left my father's house, and took with me A chosen servant to conduct my steps :Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers, And, Heav'n-directed, came this day to do The happy deed, that gilds my humble name. Home,
Most potent, grave, and reverend Signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters,
That I have ta’en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true ; true, I have married her :
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’d
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils and battles ;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(For such proceedings I am charged withal,)
I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question’d me the story of my life,
From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass’d.
I ran it through, ev’n from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach ;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slav'ry; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history:
Wherein of antres vast, and deserts wild,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touch Heav'n,
It was my bent to speak.-All these to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline.
But still the house affairs would draw her thence,