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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'd 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 adorna,
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 (aud many a tear that parting drew);
Embark'd, reluctant, for her native isle.

Though learned, curious, and though nobly bents,
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 every Muse,
Of freedom, courage; yet Ausonia's clime
His steps explor'd, where painting, 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::

D

But when she spoke of love, her voice surpass'd
The harmonious warblings of Italian song.
Twice 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.

Plow, prosperous 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 Their 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 Thund'rer blew.

Blow prosperous breezes; swiftly sail, thou Po: May no more dangerous fights retard thy way! Soon Porto Santo's rocky heights they spy, Like clouds din rising in the distant sky. Glad Eurus whistles, laugh the sportive crew; Each sail is set to catch the favouring gale, While on the yard-arm the harpooner sits, Strikes the boneta, or the shark insnares: The little nautilus, with purple pride Expands his sails, and dances o'er the waves: Small winged fishes on the shrouds alight; And beauteous dolphins gently play around.

Though faster than the Tropic bird they flew, Oft Junio cry'd, 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, every evening walk'd On the cool margin of the purple main, Intent her Junio's vessel to descry.

One eve (faint caims for many a day had reign'd) The winged Demons of the tempest rose; Thander, and rain, and lightning's awful power

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 roll'd.

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 lov'd so well!
All pale and cold, in every feature death,
Theana lay; and yet a glimpse of joy

Play'd on her face, while with faint falt'ring voice She thus address'd the youth, whom yet she knew: "Welcome, my Junio, to thy native shore!

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Thy sight repays the summons. of my fate:

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 paugs, 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!

GRAINGER

CHAPTER XVIII.

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 fill'd 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 friends;
Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men,.
1 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, heaven-directed, came this day to do
The happy deed that gilds my humble name.

HOME..

CHAPTER XIX.

OTHELLO'S APOLOGY.

Most potent, grave, and reverend Seigniors, 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 charg'd 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 th' 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 slavery; 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 hence,
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,.

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