WHERE beauteous Ils and her husband Tame
With mingled waves for ever flow the fame,
In times of yore an ancient baron liv'd;
Great gifts bestow'd, and great refpe&t receiv'd.
When dreadful Edward with fuccefsful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war;
This lord had headed his appointed bands,
In firmi allegiance to his king's commands;
And (all due honours faithfully discharg'd)
Had brought back his paternal coat enlarg'd
With a new mark, the witnefs of his toil,
And no inglorious part of foreign spoil.

From the loud camp retir'd and noify court,
In honourable ease and rural sport,
The remnant of his days he fafely paft;

Nor found they lagg'd too flow, and flew too fast.
He made his wish with his eftare comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

One child he had, a daughter chafte and fair,
His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir.
They call'd her Emma; for the beauteous dame,
Who gave the virgin birth, had borne the name:
'The name th' indulgent father doubly lov'd;
For in the child the mother's charms improv'd.
Yet as, when little round his knees the play'd,
He call'd her oft' in fport his nut-brown maid, '
'The friends and tenants took the fondling word
(As ftill they pleafe, who imitate their lord);
Ufage confirmi'd what fancy had begun ;
The mutual terms around the lands were known;
And Emma and the nut-brown maid were one.

As with her ftature, ftill her charms increas'd; Through all the ifle her beauty was confefs'd. Oh what perfections must that virgin fhare, Who faire is efteem'd, where all are fair! From diftant fhires repair the noble youth, And find report for once had leffen'd truth. By wonder firft, and then by paffion mov'd They came; they faw; they marvel'd; and they

lov'd.

By public praifes, and by fecret fighs,
Each own'd the general power of Emma's eyes.
In tilts and tournaments the valiant Arove
By glorious deeds to purchase Emma's love.
In gentle verfe the witry told their flame,
And grac'd their choiceft fongs with Emma's

name.

In vain they combated, in vain they writ:
Ufelefs their ftrength, and impotent their wit.
Great Venus only muft direct the dart,
Which elfe will never reach the fair one's heart,
Spite of the attempts of force, and foft effes of

art.

2

Great Venus muft prefer the happy one :
In Henry's cause her favour must be fhown :
AndEmma, of mankind, muft love but him alone.

While thefe in public to the the castle came,
And by their grandeur juftified their flame;
More fecret ways the careful Henry takes;
His fquires, his arms, and equipage forfakes:
In borrow'd name and falfe attire array'd,
Cft' he finds means to fee the beauteous maid.
When Emma hunts, in huntsman's habit dreft,
Henry on foot purfues the bounding beast.
In his right hand his beechen pole he bears;
And graceful at his fide his horn he wears.
Still to the glade, where she has bent her way,
With knowing kill he drives the future prey;
Bid- her decline the hill, and fhun the brake;
And fhows the path her steed may safest take;
Directs her fpear to fix the glorious wound;
Pleas'd in his toils to have her triumph crown'd:
And blows her praifes in no common found.

A falconer Henry is, when Emma hawks: With her of tafels and of lure- he talks. Upon his wrift the towering merlin ftands, Practis'd torile, and ftoop at her commands. And when fuperior now the bird has flown, And headlong brought the tumbling quarry down; With humble reverence he accofts the fair, And with the honour'd feather decks her hair. Yet ftill, as from the fportive field she goes, His down-caft cye reveals his ward woes; And by his look and forrow is expreft, A nobler game purfued than bird or beast.

A fhepherd now along the plain he roves: And, with his jolly pipe, delights the groves. The neighbouring fwains around the lianger throng,

Or to admire, or emulate his fong!

While with foft forrow he renews his lays,
Nor heedful of their envy, nor their praife.
But, foon as Emma's cyes adorn the plain,
His notes he raifes to a nobler flrain,
With dutiful respect and ftudious fear;
Left any carelefs found offend her ear.

A frantic gipfy now, the house he haunts,
And in wild phrafes fpeaks diffembled wants.
With the fond maids in palmistry he deals:
They tell the fecret firft, which he reveals;
Says who fhall wed, and who shall be beguil'd;
What groom fhall get, and fquire maintain the
child,

But, when bright Emma would her fortune know,
A fofter look unbends his opening brow;
With trembling awe he gazes on her eye,
And in foft accents forms the kind reply;
That the fhall prove as fortunate as fair;
And Hymen's choiceft gifts are all referv'd for
her.

Now oft' had Henry chang'd his fly disguise,
Unmark'd by all but beauteous Emma's eyes:
Oft' had found means alone to fee the dame,
And at her feet to breathe his amorous flame;
And oft' the pangs of abfence to remove
By letters, foft interpreters of love :
Till time and industry (the mighty two
That bring our wishes nearer to our view)

Made him perceive, that the inclining fair
Receiv'd his vows with no reluctant ear;
That Venus had confirm'd her equal reign, [pain.
And dealt to Emma's heart a fhare of Henry's
While Cupid fmil'd, by kind occafion blefs'd,
And, with the fecret kept, the love increas'd;
The amorous youth frequents the silent groves;
And much he meditates, for much he loves.
He loves, 'tis true; and is belov'd again :
Great are his joys: but will they long remain ?
Emma with fmiles receives his prefent flame;
But, fmiling, will fhe ever be the fame ?
Beautiful looks are rul'd by fickle minds;
And fummer feas are turn'd by fudden winds.
Another love may gain her easy youth :
Time changes thought; and flattery conquers truth.
O impotent estate of human life!
Where hope and fear maintain eternal ftrife;
Where fleeting joy does lasting doubt inspire;
And most we queftion, what we moft defire!
Amongst thy various gifts, great Heaven, beftow
Our cup of love unmix'd; forbear to throw
Bitter ingredients in; nor pall the draught
With nauseous grief: for our ill-judging thought
Hardly enjoys the pleafurable tafte;
Or deems it not fincere; or fears it cannot last.
With wishes rais'd, with jealoufies oppreft,
(Alternate tyrants of the human breaft)
By one great trial he refolves to prove
The faith of woman, and the force of love.
If fcanning Emma's virtues he may find
That beauteous frame enclose a steady mind,
He'll fix his hope, of future joy fecure;
And live a lave to Hymen's happy power.
But if the fair-one, as he fears, is frail;
If, pois'd aright in reafon's equal scale,
Light fly her merit, and her faults prevail;
His mind he vows to free from amorous care,
The latent mifchief from his heart to tear,
Refume his azure arms, and fine again in war.
South of the castle in a verdant glade

A fpreading beech extends her friendly fhade:
Here oft' the nymph his breathing vows had heard;
Here oft' her filence had her heart declar'd.
As active fpring awak'd her infant buds,
And genial life inform'd the verdant woods;
Henry in knots involving Emma's name,
Had half exprefs'd and half conceal'd his flame
Upon this tree: and, as the tender mark
Grew with the year, and widen'd with the bark,
Venus had heard the virgin's foft address,
That, as the wound, the paffion might increase.
As potent nature fhed her kindly showers,
And deck'd the various mead with opening flowers,
Upon this tree the nymph's obliging care
Had left a frequent wreath for Henry's hair;
Which as with gay delight the lover found,
Pleas'd with his conqueft, with her prefent crown'd,
Glorious through all the plains he oft' had gone,
And to each fwain the myftic honour shown;
The gift ftill prais'd, the giver ftill unknown.
His fecret not the troubled Henry writes:
To the known tree the lovely maid unites:
Imperfect words and dubious terms exprefs,
That unforeseen mifchance difturb'd his peace;

That he must fomething to her ear commend, On which her conduct and his life depend.

Soon as the fair-one had the note receiv'd, The remnant of the day alone fhe griev'd: For different this from every former note, Which Venus dictated, and Henry wrote; Which told her all his future hopes were laid On the dear bofom of his nut-brown maid; Which always blefs'd her eyes, and own'd her [laid;

power;

And bid her oft' adieu, yet added more.
Now night advanc'd. The houfe in fleep were
The nurfe experienc'd, and the prying maid;
And, lait, that fprite, which does inceffent haunt
The lover's fteps, the ancient maiden-aunt.
To her dear Henry Emma wings her way,
With quicken'd pace repairing forc'd delay;
For love, fantastic power, that is afraid
To ftir abroad till watchfulness be laid,
Undaunted then o'er cliffs and valleys ftrays,
And leads his votaries fafe through pathless ways.
Not Argus with his hundred eyes fhall find
Where Cupid goes, though he, poor guide! is blind
The maiden fir arriving, fent her eye
To afk, if yet its chief delight were nigh:
With fear and with defire, with joy and pain,
She fees, and runs to meet him on the plain.
But oh his fteps proclaim no lover's hafte :
On the low ground his fix'd regards are caft;
His artful bofom heaves diffembled fighs;
And tears fuborn'd fall copious from his eyes.
With eafe, alas! we credit what we love:
His painted grief does real forrow move
In the afflicted fair; adown her cheek
Trickling the genuine tears their current break;
Attentive stood the mournful nymph: the man
Broke filence firft: the tale alternate ran.

HENRY.

SINCERE, O tell me, halt thou felt a pain, Emma, beyond what woman knows to feign? Has thy uncertain bofom ever ftrove With the first tumults of a real love? Haft thou now dreaded, and now blest his sway, By turns averfe, and joyful to obey? Thy virgin foftness haft thou e'er bewail'd; As reafon yielded, and as love prevail'd? And wept the potent god's refillefs dart, His killing pleafure, his ccftatic fmart, And heavenly poison thrilling through thy heart? If fo, with pity view my wretched flate; At least deplore, and then forget my fate : To fome more happy knight referve thy charms; By fortune favour'd, and fuccefsful arms: And only, as the fun's revolving ray Brings back each year this melancholy day, Permit one figh, and fet apart one tear, To an abandon'd exile's endless care. For me, alas! out-caft of human race, Love's anger only waits, and dire difgrace; For lo! thefe hands in murther are imbued; Thefe trembling feet by juftice are purfued: Fate calls aloud, and haftens me away; A fhameful death attends my longer stay; And I this night muft fly from thee and love, Condemn'd in lonely woods,2 baniik`d man,to reveį kej

EMMA.

What is our blifs, that changeth with the moon; And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon? What is true paffion, if unbleft it dies? And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies? If love, alas! be pain; the pain I bear No thought can figure, and no tongue declare. Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor falfe one feign'd, The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd: The god of love himself inhabits there, With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care, His complement of ftores, and total war.

O! cease then coldly to fufpect my love; And let my deed at least my faith approve. Alas! no youth fhall my endearments fhare Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care; No future ftory fhall with truth upbraid The cold indifference of the nut-brown maid; Nor to hard banishment shall Henry run; While careless Emma fleeps on beds of down. View me refolv'd, where-e'er thou lead'ft, to go, Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy woe; For I atteft fair Venus and her fon,

That I, of all mankind, will love but thee alone.

HENRY.

Let prudence yet obftruct thy venturous way; And take good heed, what men will think and say: 'That beauteous Emma vagrant courfes took; Her father's house and civil life forfook; That, full of youthful blood, and fond of man, She to the wood-land with an exile ran. Reflect, that leffen'd fame is ne'er regain'd; And virgin honour, once, is always ftain'd: Timely advis'd, the coming evil fhun : Better not do the deed, than weep it done. No penance can abfolve our guilty fame; Nor tears, that wafh out fin, can wafh out fhame. Then fly the fad effects of defperate love; [rove. And leave a banish'd man through lonely woods to

EMMA.

Let Emma's hapless case be falfely told By the rafh young, or the ill-natur'd old: Let every tongue its various cenfures choose ; Abfolve with coldness, or with fpite accufe: Fair truth at laft her radiant beams will raise; And malice vanquish'd heightens virtue's praise. Let then thy favour but indulge my flight; O! let my prefence make thy travels light; And potent Venus fhall exalt my name Above the rumours of cenforious fame; Nor from that bufy demon's reftless power Will ever Emma other grace implore,

Than that this truth fhould to the world be known, That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone.

Then to thy friend, by foes o'er-charg'd, deny
Thy little ufelefs aid, and coward fly :
Then wilt thou curfe the chance that made thee
love

A banish'd man, condemn'd in lonely woods to

rove.

EMMA.

With fatal certainty Thaleftris knew
To fend the arrow from the twanging yew;
And, great in arms, and foremost in the war,
Bonduca brandish'd high the British fpear.
Could thirst of vengeance and defire of fame
Excite the female breaft with martial flame?
And shall not love's diviner power inspire
More hardy virtue, and more generous fire?

Near thee, miftruft not, conftant I'll abide,
And fall, or vanquish, fighting by thy fide,
Though my inferior strength may not allow
That I fhould bear or draw the warrior bow;
With ready hand I will the fhaft supply,
And joy to fee thy victor arrows fly.
Touch'd in the battle by the hostile reed,
Should'st thou (but Heaven avert it.) fhould't thou
bleed ;

To ftop the wounds, my fineft lawn I'd tear, Wash them with tears, and wipe them with my

hair;

Bleft, when my dangers and my toils have shown That I, of all mankind, could love but thee alone.

HENRY.

But canst thou, tender maid, canft thou fuftain Afflictive want, or hunger's preffing pain? Those limbs, in lawn and fofteft filk array'd, From fun-beams guarded, and of winds afraid; Can they bear angry Jove? can they refift The parching dog-star, and the bleak north-east ? When, chill'd by adverfe fnows and beating rain, We tread with weary steps the longfome plain; When with hard toil we feek our evening food, Berries and acorns from the neighbouring wood; And find among the cliffs no other houfe, But the thin covert of fome gather'd boughs; Wilt thou not then reluctant fend thine eye Around the dreary wafte: and weeping try (Though then, alas! that trial be too late) To find thy father's hofpitable gate,

And feats, where eafe and plenty brooding fate? Those feats, whence long excluded thou must

mourn;

That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return:
Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,
And hate a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods
to rove?

EMMA.

Thy rife of fortune did I only wed, From its decline determin'd to recede; Did I but purpose to embark with thee On the smooth furface of a funimer's fea; While gentle Zephyrs play in profperous gales, And fortune's favour fills the fwelling fails; But would forfake the fhip, and make the shore, When the winds whistle, and the tempefts roar? No, Henry, no: one facred oath has tied Our loves; one deftiny our life shall guide; Nor wild nor deep our common way divide.

When from the cave thou rifeft with the day, To beat the woods, and roufe the bounding prey; The cave with mofs and branches I'll adorn, And cheerful fit, to wait my lord's return: And, when thou frequent bring'st the smitten deer (For seldom, archers fay, thy arrows err), Ill fetch quick fuel from the neighbouring wood, And strike the sparkling flint, and dress the food; With humble duty, and officious haste, I'll cull the furtheft mead for thy repaft; The choiceft herbs I to thy board will bring, And draw thy water from the freshest spring: And, when at night with weary toil oppreft, Soft flumbers thou enjoy'ft, and wholesome rest; Watchful I'll guard thee,and with midnight prayer Weary the gods to keep thee in their care; And joyous afk, at morn's returning ray, If thou haft health, and I may bless the day. My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend, On thee, guide, guardian, kinsman, father, friend: By all these facred names be Henry known To Emma's heart; and grateful let him own That fhe, of all mankind, could love but him alone!

1

HENRY.

O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates Force thee to fuffer what thy honour hates : Mix thee amongst the bad; or make thee run Too near the paths which virtue bids thec fhun, Yet with her Henry ftill let Emma go; With him abhor the vice, but share the woe: And fure my little heart can never err Amidft the worst, if Henry still be there.

Vainly thou tell'ft me, what the woman's care Shall in the wildness of the wood prepare : Thou, ere thou goest, unhappieft of thy kind, Must leave the habit and the fex behind. No longer shall thy comely treffes break In flowing ringlets on thy fnowy neck; Or fit behind thy head, an ample round, In graceful braids with various ribbon bound: No longer fhall the bodice aptly lac'd, From thy full bosom to thy flender waist, That air and harmony of fhape express, Fine by degrees, and beautifully lefs: Nor fhall thy lower garments artful plait, From thy fair fide dependent to thy feet, Arm their chafte beauties with a modest pride, And double every charm they feek to hide. Th' ambrofial plenty of thy fhining air, Cropt off and loft, scarce lower than thy ear

Shall ftand uncouth: a horfeman's coat fhall hide

Thy taper shape, and comeliness of fide :

Our outward act is prompted from within;
And from the finner's mind proceeds the fin:
By her own choice free virtue is approv'd;
Nor by the force of outward objects mov'd.
Who has affay'd no danger, gains no praife.
In a fmall ifle, amidst the wideft feas,
Triumphant conftancy has fix'd her feat:
In vain the Syrens fing, the tempefts beat:
Their flattery fhe rejects, nor fears their threat.
For thee alone thefe little charms I dreit:
Condemn'd them, or absolv'd them by thy test.
La comely figure rang'd my jewels shone,
Or negligently plac'd for thee alone:
For thee again they fhall be laid afide;
The woman, Henry, fhall put off her pride
For thee my clothes, my fex, exchang'd for
thee,

I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee;
O line extreme of human infamy!

Wanting the fciffors, with thefe hands I'll tear

Licentious, and to common eye-fight free:
And, with a bolder ftride and loofer air,
Mingled with men, a man thou must appear.
Nor folitude, nor gentle peace of mind,
Miftaken maid, fhalt thou in forests find:

Tis long fince Cynthia and her train were there,
Or guardian gods made innocence their care.
Vagrants and outlaws fhall offend thy view:
For fuch must be my friends, a hideous crew
By adverse fortune mix`d in focial ill,
Train'd to affault, and disciplin'd to kill:
Their common loves, a lewd abandon'd pack,
The beadle's lafh ftill flagrant on their back :
By floth corrupted, by diforder fed,

Made bold by want, and proftitute for bread:
With fuch muft Emma hunt the tedious day,
Aflift their violence, and divide their prey:
With fuch the must return at setting light,
Though not partaker, witnefs of their night.)

Black foot, or yellow walnut, shall disgrace
This little red and white of Emma's face.
These nails with fcratches fhall deform my.
breast,

Left by my look or colour be exprefs'd
The mark of aught high-born, or ever better
drefs'd.

Yet in this commerce, under this difguife,
Let me be grateful ftill to Henry's eyes ;
Loft to the world, let me to him be known:
My fate I can abfolve, if he thall own
That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone.

Whofe roving fancy would refolve the fame With him, who next fhould tempt her caly fame; And blow with empty words the fufceptible flame.

Now why should doubtful terms thy mind perplex: Confefs thy frailty, and avow the fix:

No longer loofe defire for confiant love [to rove. Mistake; but fay, 'tis man with whom thou long'st

EMMA.

fwords",

That Emma thus muft die by Henry's words? Yet what could fwords or poifon, racks or flame, But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame! More fatal Henry's words; they murder Emma's fame.

And fall these fayings from that gentle tongue, Where civil speech and fost persuasion hung; Whofe artful fweetnefs and harmonious train, Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain, Call'd fighs, and tears, and wifhes, to its aid; And, whilst it Henry's glowing flame convey'd, Still blam'd the coldness of the nut-brown maid? Let envious jealousy and canker'd spite Produce my actions to fevereft light, And tax my open day, or fecret night. Did e'er my tongue fpeak 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 muft never own, That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone?

HENRY.

Vainly thou talk'ft of loving me alone:
Each man is man; and all our fex is one.
Falle are our words, and fickle is our mind:
Nor in love's ritual can we ever find
Vows made to left, or promises to bind.

By nature prompted, and for cmpire 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 pallion, we attack the fair,
Delufive fighs and brittle vows we hear;
Our falfehood and our arms have equal use;
As they our conqueft or delight produce.
The foolish heart thou gav'it, again receive,
The only boon departing love can give.
To be lefs wretched, be no longer true;
What ftrives to fly thee, why fhould't thou
pursue ?

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 shalt believe)
Will pawn his gods, intending to deceive
Will kneel, implore, perfift, o'ercome, and leave.
Hence let thy Cupid aim his arrows right;
Be wife and falle, fhun trouble, feek delight;
Change thou the firft, nor wait thy lover's flight.
Why should't thou weep? let nature judge our
cafe:

I saw thee young and fair; purfued the chafe

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 dest now,
With idle clamours of a broken vow.

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

Then from thy foolish heart, vain maid, remove
An useless 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?
Of the fuperior fex art thou the werft?
Am I of mine the most completely curf??
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 fcorn the name of friend).
What the demands, inceffant I'll prepare :
I'll weave her garlands; and I'll plait her hair :
My bufy diligence fhall deck her board
(For there at least 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 increafing grief brings flow disease;
And ebbing life, on terms fevere as thefe,
Will have its little lamp no longer fed ;
When Henry's miftrefs fhows him Emma dead;
Rescue my poor remains from vile neglect:
With virgin honours let my hearse be deckt,
And decent emblem; and at least perfuade
This happy nymph, that Emma may be laid
Where thou, dear author of my death, where the,
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 the may one day prove,
Who hopes from Henry's vows eternal love.
And thou forfworn, thou cruel, as thou art,
If Emma's image ever touch'd thy heart;
Thou fure muft give one thought, and drop one

tear

To her, whom love abandon'd to defpair;
To her, who, dying, on the wounded ftone
Bid it in lafting characters be known,
That, of mankind, the lov'd but thee alone.

HENRY.

Hear, folemn Jove; and confcious Venus, hear; And thou, bright maid, believe me whilft I swear;