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Which faw him fold her yet untafted charms,
(Deny'd to princes) in his longing arms;
Now fees the tranfient bleffing fleet away,
Empire and love, the vifion of a day!

Thus, in the British clime, a fummer-ftorm
Will oft the smiling face of heav'n deform;
The winds with violence at once defcend,
Sweep flow'rs and fruits, and make the foreft bend;
A fudden winter, while the fun is near,
O'ercomes the season, and inverts the year.
But whither is the captive borne away,
The beauteous captive! from the chearful day?
The scene is chang'd, indeed! before her eyes
Ill-boding looks and unknown horrors rife ;
For pomp and fplendour, for her guard and crown,
A gloomy dungeon, and a keeper's frown:
Black thoughts, each morn, invade the lover's breaft;
Each night a ruffian locks the queen to reft.

Ah, mournful change, if judg'd by vulgar minds!
But Suffolk's daughter it's advantage finds.
Religion's force divine is best display'd

In deep defertion of all human aid:

To fuccour in extremes is her delight,

And chear the heart when terror ftrikes the fight.
We, disbelieving our own fenfes, gaze,

And wonder what a mortal's heart can raise

To triumph o'er misfortunes, fmile in grief,
And comfort those who come to bring relief:
We gaze; and, as we gaze, wealth, fame, decay,
And all the world's vain glories fade away!
Against her cares fhe rais'd a dauntless mind;
And with an ardent heart, but most refign'd,
Deep in the dreadful gloom, with pious heat,
Amid the filence of her dark retreat,

Addrefs'd her God

Almighty Pow'r Divine !

'Tis thine to raife, and to deprefs is thine;

• With

• With honour to light up the name unknown, Or to put out the luftre of a throne.

In my fhort fpan, both fortunes I have prov'd; And tho' with ill frail nature will be mov'd, I'll bear it well: (O ftrengthen me to bear!) And if my piety may claim thy care; • If I remember'd, in youth's giddy heat, • And tumult of a court, a future state, O favour, when thy mercy I implore, • For one who never guilty sceptre bore ! • 'Twas I receiv'd the crown; my lord is free: If it must fall, let vengeance fall on me ; Let him furvive, his country's name to raise, And in a guilty land to speak thy praise ! O may th' indulgence of a father's love, Pour'd forth on me, be doubled from above! If these are safe, I'll think my pray'rs fucceed, And bless thy tender mercies whilst I bleed.' 'Twas now the mournful eve before that day In which the queen to her full wrath gave way; Thro' rigid juftice rufh'd into offence,

And drank, in zeal, the blood of innocence.

The fun went down in clouds, and feem'd to mourn

The fad neceffity of his return ;

The hollow wind, and melancholy rain,

Or did, or was imagin'd to complain;

The tapers caft an inaufpicious light;

Stars there were none, and doubly dark the night.
Sweet Innocence in chains can take her rest:
Soft flumber gently creeping thro' her breast,
She finks; and in her fleep is re-enthron'd,
Mock'd by a gaudy dream, and vainly crown'd.
She views her fleets and armies, feas and land,
And ftretches wide her fhadow of command:
With royal purple is her vision hung;

By phantom hosts are shouts of conqueft rung;

Low

Low at her feet the fuppliant rival lies;

Our pris'ner mourns her fate, and bids her rise.
Now level beams upon the waters play'd,
Glanc'd on the hills, and weftward caft the fhade;
The bufy trades in city had began

To found, and fpeak the painful life of man..
In tyrants breasts the thoughts of vengeance rouze,
And the fond bridegroom turns him to his spouse.
At this first birth of light, while morning breaks,
Our spouseless bride, our widow'd wife awakes:
Awakes and smiles; nor night's imposture blames ;
Her real pomps were little more than dreams!
A fhort-liv'd blaze, a lightning quickly o'er,
That dy'd in birth, that shone, and were no more!
She turns her fide, and foon refumes a state
Of mind well fuited to her alter'd fate;
Serene, tho' ferious; when dread tidings.come
(Ah, wretched Guilford !) of her inftant doom.
Sun, hide thy beams! in clouds as black as night
Thy face involve; be guiltlefs of the fight!
Or hafte more swiftly to the western main,
Nor let her blood the conscious day-light stain !
Oh, how fevere! to fall fo new a bride,

Yet blushing from the prieft, in youthful pride;
When Time had just matur'd each perfect grace,
And open'd all the wonders of her face!
To leave her Guilford dead to all relief,
Fond of his woe, and obftinate in grief.
Unhappy fair! whatever fancy drew,
(Vain promis'd bleffings!) vanish from her view.
No train of chearful days, endearing nights;
No sweet domeftick joys, and chafte delights;
Pleasures that blossom e'en from doubts and fears,
And blifs and rapture rifing out of cares:
No little Guilford, with paternal grace,
Lull'd on her knee, or fmiling in her face;

Who,

Who, when her dearest father shall return,
From pouring tears on her untimely urn,

Might comfort to his filver hairs impart,
And fill her place in his indulgent heart;
As where fruits fall quick-rifing bloffoms fmile,
And the blefs'd Indian of his cares beguile.

In vain these various reafons jointly prefs
To blacken death, and heighten her distress;
She thro' th' encircling terrors darts her fight
To the blefs'd regions of eternal light,
And fills her foul with peace: to weeping friends
Her father and her lord fhe recommends,
Unmov'd herself. Her foes her air furvey,

And rage to see their malice thrown away.

She foars! now nought on earth detains her care-
But Guilford, who ftill ftruggles for his share:
Still will his form importunately rife,
Clog and retard her tranfport to the skies.
As trembling flames now take a feeble flight,
Now catch the brand with a returning light;
Thus her foul onward, from the feats above
Falls fondly back, and kindles into love.
At length fhe conquers in the doubtful field;
That Heav'n fhe feeks will be her Guilford's field.
Now Death is welcome! his approach is flow;

'Tis tedious longer to expect the blow.

Oh, mortals! fhort of fight, who think the paft
O'erblown misfortune ftill fhall prove the last:
Alas! misfortunes travel in a train,
And oft in life form one perpetual chain;
Fear buries fear, and ills on ills attend,

Till life and forrow meet one common end.

She thinks that she has nought but death to fear,

And death is conquer'd. Worfe than death is near:
Her rigid trials are not yet compleat;

The news arrives of her great father's fate.

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She fees his hoary head, all white with age,
A victim to th' offended monarch's rage.
How great the mercy, had the breath'd her last
Ere the dire sentence on her father pass'd !
A fonder parent nature never knew,
And as his age increas'd his fondness, grew.
A parent's love ne'er better was bestow'd;
The pious daughter in her heart o'erflow'd.
And can fhe from all weakness still refrain,
And still the firmness of her foul maintain?
Impoffible! a figh will force it's way;

One patient tear her mortal birth betray:
She fighs and weeps! but fo fhe weeps and fighs,
As filent dews defcend, and vapours rife.

Celestial Patience! how doft thou defeat
The foe's proud menace, and elude his hate!
While Paffion takes his part, betrays our peace,
To death and torture fwells each flight difgrace;
By not oppofing thou doft ills destroy,
And wear thy conquer'd forrows into joy

Now fhe revolves within her anxious mind
What woe ftill lingers in referve behind:
Griefs rise on griefs, and she can see no bound,

While nature lafts, and can receive a wound.
The fword is drawn; the queen to rage inclin'd,

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By mercy, nor by piety confin'd:

What mercy can the zealot's heart affuage,

• Whose piety itself converts to rage?'

She thought, and figh'd; and now the blood began

To leave her beauteous cheek all cold and wan:

New forrow dimm'd the luftre of her eye,

And on her cheek the fading rofes die.

Alas! fhould Guilford too-' When now fhe's brought
To that dire view, that precipice of thought;

While there she trembling ftands, nor dares look down,
Nor can recede, till Heav'n's decrees are known,

Cure

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