Whom thence (yet with compassion and remorse)
The murm'ring Pagans in a tumult force.

Her hands are bound, her modest face unveil'd,
No more its charms from vulgar eyes conceal'd;
Though void of fear, her doubtful looks confess
A soft concern and human tenderness:

The rosy blush that from her visage flies,

Not paleness but a snowy white supplies.

Mean time the wond'rous accident was known From street to street thro' all the swarming town, The person doubtful, the relation true,

Among the rest, Olinda thither drew:

Too soon the wretched youth approach'd and found,
By impious hands his charming mistress bound:
Distracted now among the guards he press'd,
And thus aloud th' astonish'd King address'd :

"Ah! royal Sir, yourself no more deceive,
"Nor this fond maid's invented tale believe.
"Could she, alas! the cautious watch betray,
"And from its seat the weighty shrine convey?
« 'Tis fiction all—the enterprise was mine,
"Nor will I thus a glorious fate resign.
He adds, "Your temple, down a sloping way,
"Receives the light, and draws the beamy day,
"Through that I stole the sacred prize away.
"My Lord, the sentenc'd criminal you see,
"These chains, this cruel death, belongs to me."
"And could not then a single life suffice,
"Unhappy youth?" (the fair Sophronia cries,
With kindling love and pity in her eyes.)
"What rage, what fury, mov'd thee, to expose
"Thyself a victim to relentless foes?

"What tears, what mean reluctance, have I shown, "That you believe I cannot die alone?"

But nothing could her kind repulses gain : Unshaken, still his first designs remain.

}

With stedfast courage each despises life,

And long between them held the gen'rous strife;
Virtue, and mighty Love dispute the field,
And neither in the friendly contest yield.
The tyrant raves, nor longer now refrains,
But both one cruel punishment ordains,
Commission'd, soon the charming youth they bind
With heavy chains, and to the stake confin'd.

"Are these," he cries," the fetters Love prepares? "This the reward of all my tender cares?

"With softer thoughts I fed my fond desires,
"And hop'd to meet thee in more gentle fires:
"Yet could I, falling in thy tender arms,
"Expire, my death had still a thousand charms;
"Could I receive thy parting sighs, and join,
"At the last fatal gasp, my lips with thine,
"Our souls united, then to heav'n should fly,
"And I content, my charming fair, should die."
"Far other cares," she mildly said, "than these,
"Olinda, should our serious minds possess:
"Lament thy sins, contemplate the reward
"For Faith and humble penitence prepar'd:
"The palm, the starry crown, and martyr's due,
"With all the boundless raptures that ensue.
"Survey the sun, survey the dazzling sky,
"To those bless'd regions we must shortly fly."

Of gods and men the Pagans murmur'd loud,
The Christians, silent, wept among the crowd,
The King, nor could his pity be disguis'd,
A strange unusual tenderness surpris'd;
He durst no more the moving object view,
But fix'd, and scorning to relent, withdrew :
Sophronia unconcern'd alone appears,
Nor in the universal sorrow shares.

The mournful officers had plac'd, the while,

When a young champion, with a martial grace,
And lofty mien, approach'd the fatal place.
A tigress on her plumy helimet shone,
Which for the fair Clarinda made her known.
Her sex's nicer ornament she fled,

In toilsome arms to great atchievements bred :
Her hands the labour of the loom refuse,
Nor in a closet could her mind amuse;
But o'er the fields, in savage spoils array'd,

Or thro' the woods, with fearless thoughts, she stray'd.
When yet a child the fiery steed she rein'd,
Challeng'd the race, or wrestled on the sand;
Vast deserts, hills, and pathless wilds, she trac'd,
When with her spear the foaming boar she chas'd.
From Persia now the blooming warrior came,
To win new trophies of immortal fame.
In battles past her sword had oft compell'd
The scatter'd Gauls to quit the bloody field:
Majestic charms, which ev'ry heart surprise,
And awful glories, sparkle in her eyes.

Arriving here, prepar'd for death she found
The tender youth and lovely virgin bound.
The feeble sex to Heav'n her eyes address'd,
And in her looks a silent calm express'd;
The other grieves, and melts in pitying tears,
Not for his own unhappy fate, but her's.
The warlike nymph for both compassion proves,
But most her care the silent suff'rer moves-

She to the people turns, nor loses time,

Demands with haste, and hear's in brief their crime:

Intreats the execution they'd delay,

And helps herself the rising flames to stay;

Then charg'd-"Let none this office undertake, "'Till from the King I send them orders back.”

Her bold commands the willing crowd obey; She, to the court directed, speeds away,

And audience gain'd, begins: " Great Prince, from far
"Th' unknown Clarinda comes, with you to share
"The toils and hazards of the hostile field;
"A volunteer to your commands I yield,
"Whether to meet the battle on the plain,
"Or at the walls the breaches to maintain."

The King replies, "Who has not heard thy fame?
"What distant climes are strangers to thy name?
"Thy deeds, illustrious Virgin, spread thy praise,
"Where'er the wand'ring sun reveals his rays.
"Assisted thus, we Godfrey's arms defy,
"By thee secur'd of certain victory;
"To thy command our forces we resign;
"The war and all its glorious conduct's thine."
Her modest thanks the graceful maid express'd,
And thus again her gen'rous suit address'd :
"Unusual 'tis, I know, my Lord, and hard,
"For service unperform'd to ask reward;
"But by your royal clemency assur'd:
"I boldly beg of quick success secur'd:

"Reverse great Sir, the sentenc'd lovers' dɔom; "An act like this your bounty will become."

"Nothing was e'er," the vanquish'd King reply'd,

"To such a fair petitioner deny'd:

"Their lives, heroic maid, your purchase be;

From BELLAMOUR, relating the sequel of his passion for ALMEDA, in the eight letter of the First Part of Letters Moral and Entertaining.

My Dear Carlos,

I AM pleased to find that neither the gaiety of

have made you insensible to the misfortunes of your friends. Your compassion is some relief; for I am really past jesting; and raillery, in this case, would have been inhuman.

You may remember, in my last letter, I had some hopes the discovery of my inclinations for Almeda would prevail with Elvira to free me from the engagement I made to my father to marry her; but I was disappointed. All the art and eloquence I employed to paint the height of my passion for her rival had just the contrary effect. Instead of raising her anger and resentment, it melted her into a tenderness of which I had never thought her capable. At last she told me, though she would not suffer her tongue so far to belie the sentiments of her heart as to refuse me, yet I might refuse to marry her, if I knew how to despense with my obligations to a dying father.

The naming my father gave a pious emotion to my soul, and awakened all the filial gratitude and veneration due to his memory. I am no libertine ; virtue and vice are with me real distinctions; I dare not violate my word to the meanest of my dependents, nor even to my worst enemy. Honour and Conscience have hitherto governed my secret actions. I felt the force of Elvira's words, and left her without making any reply.

But how am I embarrassed! if I had never seen the charming Almeda I must have been unhappy.