For on that dreadful night the news was spread,
That not the train of Gondibert drew near,
But Hubert's troops, by defp'rate Morcar led,
Which fill'd each bosom with a panick fear.
LXXVII.

For thro' all Lombardy was Morcar known
Of fierceft guife, disdaining still to yield,
And oft' his dreadful prowess had he shown,
In death and ruin on the foughten field.

LXXVIII.

395

310

But still more oft' the town's beleagur'd wall
Had feen him victor in remoteft lands;
Nought joy'd him more than fome rich city's fall,
With whofe fack'd wealth to pay his favage bands.
LXXIX.

Nor age nor fex their boiling rage would spare,
But ftill their steps were mark'd with feas of blood;
Hence ev'ry foe must conquer or despair,

Where defp'rate Morcar's haughty enfigns flood.

LXXX.

Now well diffembling with a chofen few,
Who wav'd their purple enfigns to the sky,
He to Verona's lofty turrets drew,
Advancing Gondibert's rich standard high.

LXXXI.

For this he deem'd would foon admittance gain,
At fuch a time, when feftal mirth went round;

315

320

Thus ftratagem for once might force fupply,

And Hubert's hopes with wish'd success be crown'd. LXXXII.

The chief once enter'd 'midst the bufy throng, 323
Soon might the rest effect their bold defign;

Then should grim war fucceed to mirthful song,
And Mars' dread feats takes place of rites divine.
LXXXIII..

But while he thus infidious wiles prepares,
A ftraggling foldier, roving o'er the plain,
Is caught unheeding in their hidden fnares,
By fuch a force as makes resistance vain.

LXXXIV.

Yet the wife captive meeting art with art,
Pretends great love to Princely Hubert's fide,
And offers many a fecret to impart,

Which may against his foes' strong arms provide:

LXXXV.

For this too carelessly the guards attend,

On one devoted to their master's cause,

330

333

And while they slightly watch this new-made friend, He tow'rds the city fuddenly withdraws.

LXXXVI.

Tho' not fo fafe he took his speedy flight,
But that the foe his fly desertion found,

340

Whofe troops purfu'd him thro' the fhades of night, And mark'd him o'er with many a ghastly wound.

LXXXVII.

But yet the fugitive the city gains,'

Tells all the fnares the wily foe had laid,
Then spent with toil and agonizing pains,
He finks at once, and mingles with the dead.

LXXXVIII.

343

Now the fear'd priests the rites prepar'd furceafe: To the loud trumpets' found the timbrels yield; 350 The youths straight lay afide their weeds of peace, And arm them quickly for the martial field.

LXXXIX.

While the grave old, and those whofe rev'rend place
Ranks them in council with Verona's peers,
In their long robes repair with flower pace,
To where its head the lofty palace rears;

XC.

There awful met beneath their monarch's eye,
With prudent care they fean the fum of things;
In flate fublime, fage Aribert on high,

355

Weighs all advice that from their counsel springs. XCI.

Thus in Verona pass the gloomy hours,

While tempefts roar, and thunders rend the sky, While dreaded earthquakes fhake the nodding tow'rs, And all the bulwarks tremble from on high.

XCII.

At length, while in debate the fenate fate,
A fhout fo loud came echoing from afar,

Volume 11.

365

That feem'd as if Verona's final fate

Hung on the peal that rent the wounded air.
XCIII.

A peal fo loud, that the rude tempeft's noise
Was loft and drowned in its louder found,
And fuch the fwell of the sonorous voice,
As congregated waters' murm'ring found.

XCIV.

Straight rife the peers, confufion fills the hall,
A thousand tongues at once rude clamour raise,
A thousand fears do ev'ry heart appal,
While each to learn the dreadful news essays.

XCV.

Of these strange tidings, and the stranger deeds
Of many a chief, Verona's boast and pride,
And still what further change to all fucceeds,
And what

grave words or bloody fwords decide:
XCVI.

These in another Canto fhall be shown,

370

375

381

But here our steeds awhile we mean to rein,

Like thofe of Sol, who leave his ev'ning throne,

And sleep with Thetis in the western main.

384

Whence human pleasures flow, fing, heav'nly Muse!
Of fparkling juices, of th' enlivening grape,

Whofe quick'ning taste adds vigour to the soul,
3 Whofe fov'reign pow'r revives decaying nature, 5
And thaws the frozen blood of hoary Age,...
A kindly warmth diffusing;-youthful fires.
Gild his dim eyes, and paint with ruddy hue-
His wrinkled visage, ghaftly wan before:
Cordial restorative to mortal man,

With copious hand by bounteous gods bestow'd!
Bacchus divine! aid my advent'rous fong,
"That with no middle flight intends to foar :"

ΤΟ

In a letter from Aaron Hill to Mr. Savage, published in the former's Works, vol. 1. p. 339. speaking of Mr. Gay, he has these words, That Poem you speak of, called Wine, he printed in the year 1710, as I remember. I am fure I have one among my pamphlets.I will look for it and fend it you, if it will be of ufe or fatisfaction to any gentleman of your acquaintance."This is the piece Mr. Hill mentions, and it is here printed from a copy of the original edition.