Some twine the garland, fome with grave grimace Around a vacant warrior caft the wreath.
'Twas paint, 'twas life! and fure to piercing eyes The warrior's face depictur'd HENRY'S mien. Now had the gen'rous chief with joy perus'd The royal fcroll, which to their native home, Their ancient rights, uninjur'd, unredeem'd, Reftor'd the captives. Forth with rapid hafte To glad his fair ELVIRA's ear, he sprung; Fir'd by the blifs he panted to convey; But fir'd in vain! Ah! what was his amaze, His fond distress, when o'er her pallid face Dejection reign'd, and from her lifelefs hand Down dropt the myrtle's fair unfinish'd flow'r ! Speechless she stood; at length with accents faint, "Well may my native fhore, she said, refound "Thy monarch's praife; and ere ELVIRA prove "Of thine forgetful, flow'rs fhall cease to feel "The foft'ring breeze, and nature change her laws.” And now the grateful edict wide alarm'd The British host. Around the fmiling youths Call'd to their native fcenes, with willing hafte Their fleet unmoor; impatient of the love That weds each bofom to its native foil. The patriot paffion! strong in ev'ry clime, How justly theirs, who find no foreign sweets To diffipate their loves, or match their own. Not fo ELVIRA! fhe, difaftrous maid,
Was doubly captive! pow'r nor chance cou'd loose
The fubtle bands; fhe lov'd her gen'rous foe. She, where her HENRY dwelt, her HENRY fmil'd, Could term her native fhore; her native shore By him deferted, fome unfriendly strand, Strange, bleak, forlorn! a defert wafte and wild. The fleet careen'd, the wind propitious fill'd The fwelling fails, the glitt'ring transports wav'd Their pennants gay, and halcyons azure wing With flight aufpicious skim'd the placid main. On her lone couch in tears ELVIRA lay, And chid th' officious wind, the tempting fea, And wifh'd a ftorm as merciless, as tore Her lab'ring bofom. Fondly now she strove To banish paffion; now the vaffal days, The captive moments that so smoothly past, By many an art recall'd; now from her lute With trembling fingers call'd the fav'rite founds Which HENRY deign'd to praife; and now effay'd With mimic chains of filken fillets wove
To paint her captive state; if any fraud Might to her love the pleasing scenes prolong, And with the dear idea feast the foul.
But now the chief return'd; prepar❜d to launch On ocean's willing breaft, and bid adieu To his fair pris'ner. She, foon as fhe heard His hated errand, now no more conceal'd The raging flame; but with a fpreading blush, And rifing figh, the latent pang difclos'd.
Yes, gen'rous youth! I fee thy bofom glow
With virtuous tranfport, that the task is thine To folve my chains; and to my weeping friends, And every longing relative, reftore
A soft-ey'd maid, a mild offenceless prey ! But know, my foldier, never youthful mind, Torn from the lavish joys of wild expence By him he loath'd, and in a dungeon bound To languifh out his bloom, could match the pains This ill-ftar'd freedom gives my tortur'd mind.
What call I freedom? is it that thefe limbs From rigid bolts fecure, may wander far From him I love? Alas, ere I may boast That facred bleffing, fome fuperior pow'r To mortal kings, to fublunary thrones, Muft loose my paffion, muft unchain my foul, Ev'n that I loath; all liberty I loath! But moft the joy lefs privilege to gaze With cold indifference, where defert is love, True, I was born an alien to those eyes I ask alone to please; my fortune's crime! And ah! this flatter'd form, by drefs endear'd To Spanish eyes, by drefs may thine offend. Whilft I, ill-fated maid! ordain'd to strive With cuftom's load, beneath its weight expire,
Yet HENRY's beauties knew in foreign garb To vanquish me; his form, howe'er disguis'd, To me were fatal! no fantastic robe That e'er caprice invented, cuftom wore, Or folly fimil'd on, cou'd eclipfe thy fway.
Perhaps by birth decreed, by fortune plac'd Thy country's foe, ELVIRA's warmest pica Seems but the fubtler accent fraud infpires; My tendereft glances, but the fpecious flow'rs That fhade the viper while fhe plets her wound. And can the trembling candidate of love Awake thy fears? and can a female breaft By ties of grateful duty bound, enfnare? Is there no brighter mien, no fofter fimile For love to wear, to dark deceit unknown? Heav'n fearch my foul, and if thro' all its cells Lurk the pernicious drop of pois'nous guile; Full on my fencelefs head its phial'd wrath May fate exhauft; and for my happiest hour Exalt the vengeance I prepare for thee!
Ah me! nor HENRY's, nor his country's foe, On thee I gaz'd, and reafon foon difpell'd Dim error's gloom, and to thy favour'd isle Affign'd its total merit, unreftrain'd. Oh! lovely region to the candid eye! 'Twas there my fancy faw the virtues dwell, The loves, the graces play; and bleft the foil That nurtur'd thee! for fure the virtues form'd Thy gen'rous breaft; the loves, the graces plan'd Thy fhapely limbs. Relation, birth effay'd Their partial pow'r in vain: again I gaz'd, And ALBION's ifle appear'd, amidst a tract Of favage waftes, the darling of the skies! And thou by nature form'd, by fate affign'd
To paint the genius of thy native fhore.
'Tis true, with flow'rs, with many a dazling scene Of burnish'd plants, to lure a female eye, IBERIA glows: but ah! the genial fun,
That gilds the lemon's fruit, or scents the flow'r, On Spanish minds, a nation's nobler boast! Beams forth ungentle influences. There Sits jealoufy enthron'd, and at each ray Exultant lights his flow-confuming fires. Not fuch thy charming region; long before My fweet experience taught me to decide Of English worth, the found had pleas'd mine ear. Is there that favage coaft, that rude fejourn Stranger to British worth? the worth which forms The kindest friends, the most tremendous foes First, best fupports of liberty and love! No, let fubjected INDIA, while she throws O'er Spanish deeds the veil, your praise refound. Long as I heard, or ere in story read Of English fame, my bias'd partial breast Wish'd them fuccefs, and happiest she, I cry'd, Of women happiest fhe, who shares the love, The fame, the virtues of an English lord. And now what fhall I fay? bleft be the hour Your fair-built veffels touch'd th' Iberian fhores: Bleft did I fay the time? if I may blefs That lov'd event, let HENRY's fmiles declare. Our hearts and cities won, will HENRY's youth Forego its nobler conqueft? will he flight
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