Clean as this spotless page, till stain'd by me,
Such was my conscience, till seduc'd by thee:
Chaste were my thoughts, and all serene within,
Till mark'd by thee with characters of sin.
Had some successful lover, in the prime
Of equal years, betrayed me to a crime,
Resistless Love had been my best defence,
And gain'd compassion for the soft offence:
But while thy wither'd age had no such charms,
To tempt a blooming virgin to thy arms,
I'm justly thought a prostitute for gold,
A mercenary thing to sordid int'rest sold.

Be curs'd that female fiend, whose practis'd art,
With wanton tales, seduc'd my guiltless heart;
Let her with endless infamy be curs'd;

Of all the agents Hell employs the worst:
Perdition to herself the wretch insur'd,
When she my youthful modesty allur'd:
Oh, fatal day! when, to my virtue's wrong,
I fondly listen'd to her flatt'ring tongue!
But, oh! more fatal moment, when she gain'd
That vile consent which all my virtue stain'd!
Yet Heav'n can tell with what extreme regret
The fury of thy lawless flames I met
For, unexperienc'd in the ways ofsin,
A conscious honour struggled still within.
Oh, could I! but the ill-tim'd wish is vain,
Could I my former innocence regain!

Thy proffer'd kingdom, Henry, were a prize
Which, balanc'd with that wealth, I should despise.

But I no more my sex's pride can boast :

Alas! what has one moment's madness cost!

Not Woodstock's charming bow'rs can ease my grief;

For I must fly myself to find relief.

Oft, while the sun in length'ning shades declines,

Alone through all the beauteous walks I rove,
And hope the sweets of solitude to prove;
But, at my sight, each verdant prospect wears
A gloomy view, and every plant appears
To bend its top, o'ercharg'd with dewy tears;
Methinks each painted blossom hangs its head,
Avoids my touch, and withers where I tread.
If angling near a crystal brook I stand,
And with deluding skill the bait command,
The cautious fish, that fly the snare, upbraid
My heedless youth, more easily betray'd.
Amidst the garden, wrought by curious hands,
A noble statue of Diana stands;

Naked she stands, with just proportions grac'd,
And bathing in a silver fountain 's plac'd :
When near the flow'ry borders I advance,
At me she seems to dart an angry glance.
What scenes, alas! can please a guilty mind,
What joy can I in these recesses find,
For lawless and forbidden love design'd?
In some obscure and melancholy cell,
Rather a weeping penitent I'd dwell,
Than here a glorious prostitute remain,
To all my sex's modesty a stain.

}

This stately lab'rinth, rais'd with vast expense,
Displays my shame in its magnificence:
As through the stately rooms 1 lately walk'd,
And with my woman of its paintings talk'd,
She spy'd the draught of Tarquin's wanton flame,
And, heedless, ask'd the injur'd beauty's name :
This, I reply'd, is that illustrious Dame-
Renown'd for chastity, I should have said;
But here, a rising blush my face o'erspread;
Confus'd, I stopp'd, and left th' inquiring maid.
Lucretia's story on my life had cast

A black reproach, who yet can live disgrac'de

}

1 should, like her, with just resentment press'd, Have plung'd the fatal dagger to my breast.

What specious colours can disguise my sin,
Or still the restless monitor within?

Thy greatness, Henry, but augments my shame,
And adds immortal scandel to my name;
My odious name, which, as the worst disgrace,
The Cliffords cancel from their noble race!
To what propitious refuge shall I run,
The terrors of a guilty mind to shun?
In vain the sun its morning pride displays,
I turn my eyes, and sicken at its rays:
The silver moon and sparkling stars by night
Torment me, too, with their officious light :
The glimm'ring tapers round my chamber plac'd
Across the room fantastic shadows cast;
Of all my dreams the melancholy scene
Presents an injur'd a revengeful Queen.

Last night, when Sleep my heavy eyes had clos'd,
To all her rage, methought, I stood expos'd!
Wild were her looks, a poison'd cup she brought,
And proudly offer'd me the fatal draught;
The destin'd bowl! took with trembling hands,
Compell'd to execute her fierce commands:
This dismal omen aggravates my fears,

Before my fancy still the furious Queen appears.

ing in the snowy fleece of a little lamb that stood tamely by her.

I began to hope it was one of the fairy race, or some pretty phantom that haunted the grove; for the adjacent house, belonging to this reverend avenue looked more like a dormitory for the dead than an habitation for the living; every thing about it appeared ruinous and dosolate; I could neither hear the voice, nor trace the steps of mortal men in this absolute solitude; nor had I any hopes of khowing into what wild regions I was got, unless the pretty figure sitting on the grass could give some intelligence.

I made my appearance very respectfully; but what was my surprise, in drawing near, to find the air, the complexion, every feature in miniature, of the ungrateful Aurelia, on whom I once so passionately doted? A thousand tormenting ideas rushed into my mind at the sight of this lovely creature, who smiled on me with the most enchanting innocence. While I stood eagerly gazing at her, which was not long, Aurelia herself entered the walk, and confirmed my suspicion that this child was a living proof of her infamy.

It is about six years since she eloped from the public view, regardless of her own illustrious family, or the obligations she was under to the generous Cleone, who treated her with the utmost confidence, and was the last that suspected her

husband's criminal affair with her.-Be my own wrongs forgot, and all the contempt with which she treated whatever proposals honour and a disinterested passion could make.

I found her now an object of pity rather than resentment; the dejection of her mind was visible in her pale haggard looks, and the wretched negligence of her habit. I could hardly persuade myself this was the celebrated thing that once appeared in all public places with such a parade of equipage, and vanity.

She was in the utmost confusion at this interview, till, excusing myself, I told her this intrusion was undesigned, and purely the effect of chance, as I was taking a morning's ramble from the Earl of's, where I had spent some time; and that she might depend on my word not to discover her abode to any one in that family.

By this time she was a little composed, and invited me to rest myself after my walk. I followed her into the house, which looked more like the mansions of Despair than a retreat for a lady of pleasure; an awful silence reigned in every room, through which I made a shift to find my way by a dim twilight that glimmered through some windows of as antique a figure as those of an old abbey. The furniture, I fancy, has not been displaced from times immemorial; it looks more like unwieldy lumber than any thing designed for use