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A love sublime as fervent as inspires
Celestial bosoms with ethereal fires!
Then I too fondly trusted female power,
And like the present, deem'd the future hour:
1 hoped, that bound by love's cementing tie,
From these fond arms my Martio ne'er would fly.
Alas, how vain!—The fields of combat claim
His only care, and love submits to fame.
Oh! how couldst thou thy dear Lavinia leave,'
To trust the dangers of the faithless wave!
Or how forsake thy peaceful native land,
To meet tierce conflicts on a foreign strand;
Where hell-bom discord holds her dreadful
Where rages war, with dire destructive force!
Where dying groans from wounded soldiers rise,
And nought but death and honour meet thine
When that sad hour arrived, which from my arms Snatch'd thy dear form, and fill'd me with alarms, Soon as thy bark, unmoor'd, with flying sails Plough'd the green flood, and flew before the gales,
(While, loud resounding, voar'd the deeps below,)
Up the steep cliff, with labouring steps and slow.
My way I bent, and, with a tearful eye,
Trembling, beheld the lessening vessel fly:
The lofty masts diminish'd in my view,
And crimson streamers wore a doubtful hue:
Swift fled the ship, beyond the reach of sight,
Lost in blue mists that usher'd in the night.
Then a cold shivering seiz'd my languid frame:
I fell,—and soon insensible became.
O had that moment giv'n me to the skies,
And kindly finish'd all my miseries;
Then had my tears for ever ceased to run,
And these sad numbers ne'er had been begun!
But my attendants, with officious haste,
Recall'd my fleeting soul, again to taste
Trie cup of woe which Martio's absence brings,
And feel the force of sorrow's sharpest stings.
Then, frantick with despair, my hair I tore:
My loud lamentings echo'd round the shore.
Life 1 disdain'd; but 'twas my hapless fate
To wish in vain my death to antedate.
At length, a flood of tears, the friends of grief,
Incessant flow'd, and gave my soul relief:
With bended knee, I then to heaven preferr'd
Prayers for the safety of my much loved lord;
That, when the horrors of grim war arise,
And the fields echo with expiring cries,
Thou might'st in safety pass the empurpled plain,
And, crown'd with conquest, bless these arms
Sometimes, when slumbers soft my eye-lids close,
And lull my senses in a short repose, A
O'er thy uncertain fate my fancy rolls,
And fear alarming, every hope controuls. I
Imagination, with her busy train,.
Paints all the horrours of Germania's plain:
In visions dire the field of death appears,
And thou, encircled round with hostile spears. , j
Then, trembling I behold the ruthless sword
Plunged in the bosom of my dearest lord;
Or sudden, hear the cannon's thundering sound,, ,^
And see thee pale and fainting on the ground!
Then, starting, wild with terror and affright,
I wake, and mourn away the tedious night'. A
When morn illumes the east, I pensive, rise;
But, ah!—no joy the fragrant morn supplies;
For fear, distracting fear, my breast invades, Destroys my peace, and mournful makes the shades
Where erst with thee I pass'd the happy hours, When light-wing'd love sat hovering o'er the bowers:
But lost to joy, my dearest Martio gone
Pensive I sit, deserted, and alone:
Wasted with grief, Lavinia now appears
A weeping ghost, like Niobe in tears:
No friend can cheer, or give my soul repose,
Or shed the balm of comfort o'er my woes;
For thou, perhaps, distracting thought! hast
- Some new Lavina, with perfection crown'd; Some blooming fair, replete with matchless charms,
Whose beauty binds thee to her wanton arms:
Some blooming fair, of every grace possess'd,
Perhaps now reigns sole empress of thy breast.
Ah, no !*—for ever banish'd be these fears!
Thou wilt not, canst not, thus increase my tears
Then let me not thy constancy accuse,
Or fear the treasure of thy heart to lose.
Thy spotless heart is pure as Alpine snows;
And truth dictated all thy tender vows.
No thought licentious did thy actions prove;
Chaste was thy passion, fervent was thy love.
Thy looks, persuasive, banish'd every fear;
Thy words, endearing, spoke thy soul sincere:
And when, dissolved in tender woe I lay,
On the sad morning of the parting day; —
When pleading tears, the eloquence of pain,
Flow'd down my checks, but flow'd, alas! in
The soft distress disarm'd thy martial mind,
And shook the purpose which thy soul design'd ,-
Yet honour, stubborn honour, would not yield
To love, the triumphs of a conquer'd field;
But thee compell'd with sorrow in thine eye,
To quit these arms, and from this breast to fly.
Still, when the last, last parting moment came,
Through all the Hero, shone the Lover's flame:
"Adieu, my fair," with faultering voice he cried:
"Adieu, my fair," the echoing rocks reply'd.
Come, then, my Martio; leave the hostile field, \
Where fierce Bellona shakes her horrid shield:
With speed repass the intercepting main,
Lavinia waits thee on thy native plain: