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Let worldlings ask her help, or fear her harms;
We can lie safe, lock'd in each other's arms,
Like the blest saints, eternal raptures know,
And Night those storms that vainly rest below.

Yet this, all this you are resolv'd to quit;
I see my ruin, and I must submit:
But think, O think, before you prove unkind,
How lost a wretch you leave forlorn behind.

Malignant envy, mix'd with liate and fear,
Revenge for wrongs too burdensome to bear,
Ev'n zeal itself, from whence all mischiefs spring,
Have never done fo barbarous a thing.

With such a fate the heavens decreed to vex
Armida once, though of the fairer lex;
Rinaldo she had charm'd with so much ait,
Hers was his power, his person, and his heart :
Honour's high thoughts no more his mind could move ;
She footh:d his rage, and turn’d it all to love :
When strait a gust of fierce devotion blows,
And in a moment all her joys o'erthrows :
The poor Armida tears her golden hair,
Matchless till

now,

for love or for despair. Who is not mov'd while the sad nymph complains ? Yet you now a&t what Tasso only feigns : And after all our vows, our sighs, our tears, My banish'd sorrows, and your conquer'd fears : So many doubts, so many dangers past, Visions of zeal must vanquish me at last.

Thus, in great Homer's war, throughout the field Some hero still made all things mortal yield i

But

But when a god once took the vanquish'd fide,
The weak prevail'd, and the victorious dy’d.

T H E

V I S I O N.

Written during a Sea Voyage, when fent to command

the Forces for the Relief of TANGIER.

W

Ithin the filent shades of soft repose, ,

Where Fancy's boundless stream for ever Rows;
Where the infranchis'd soul at ease can play,,
Tird with the toilsome business of the day;
Where princes gladly reft their weary heads,
And change uneasy thrones for downy beds;
Where seeming joys delude despairing minds,
And where ev'n jcalousy some quiet tinds ;
There I and Torrow for a while could part,
Sleep clos’d my eyes, and eas’d a sighing heart.

But here too soon a wretched lover found
In deepest griefs the sleep can ne'er be found;
With strange surprize my troubled fancy brings
Odd antic shapes of wild unheard of things ;
Dismal and terrible they all appear,
My soul was shook with an unusual fear.
But as when visions glad the eyes of saints,
And kind relief attends devout complaints,
Some beauteous angel in bright charms will
And spreads a glory round, that's all

Just such a bright and beauteous form appears,
The monsters vanith, and with them my fears.
The faireft shape was then before me brought,
That
eyes

e'er faw, or fancy ever thought;
How weak are words to fhew such excellence,
Which ev'n confounds the soul, as well as senfe !
And, while our eyes transporting pleasure find,
It stops not here, but ftrikes the very mind.
Some angel speaks her praise; no human tongue,
But with its utmost art must do her wrong.
The only woman that has power to kill,
And yet is good enough to want the will

; Who needs no soft alluring words repeat, Nor study'd looks of languishing deceit.

Fantastic beauty, always in the wrong, Still thinks some pride must to its power belongi An air affected, and an haughty mein, Something that seems to say, I would be seen. But of all womankind this only she, Full of its charms, and from its frailty free, Deserves fome nobler Muse her fame to raise, By making the whole sex beside her pyramid of praise.. She, she appear'd the source of all my joysof The dearest care that all my thought employs : Gently she look'd, as when I left her last, When first she seiz'd my heart, and held it fast : When, if my vows, alas ! were made too late, I saw my doom came not from her, but fate. With pity then the cas'd my raging pain, And lier kind eyes could scarce from tcars refrain :

Why,

Why, gentle swain, said she, why do you grieve
In words I should not hear, much less believe ;
I gaze on that which is a fault to mind,
And ought to fly the danger which I find :
Of false mankind though you may be the best,
Ye all have robb’d poor women of their rest.
I see your pain, and see it too with grief,
Because I would, yet must not, give relief.
Thus, for a husband's fake as well as yours,
My scrupulous foul divided pain endures;
Guilty, alas ! to both : for thus I do
Too much for him, yet not enough for you.
Give over then, give over, hapless fwain,
A paffion moving, but a paffion vain :
Not chance nor time shall ever change iny thought :
"] is better much to die, than do a fault.

Oh, worse than ever! Is it then my doom
Just to see heaven, where I must never come ?
Your soft compassion, if not fomething more ;
Yet I remain as wretched as before ;

The wind indeed is fair, but ah! no fight of shore.
Farewell, too scrupulous fair-one; oh! farewell;
What torments I endere, no tongue can tell :
Thank heaven, my fate transports me now where I,
Your martyr, may with ease and safety die.

With that I kneeld, and feiz'd her trembling hand,
While she impos'd this cruel kind cominand :
Live, and love on; you will be true, I know ;
But live then, and come back to tell me fo;

For

}

E 3

For though I blush at this last guilty breath,
I can cndure that better than

your

death. Tormenting kindness! barbarous reprieve! Condemn’d to die, and yet compell'a to live!

This tender scene my dream repeated o’er,
Just as it pass’d in real truth before.
Methought I then fell groveling to the ground,
Till, on a sudden rais’d, I wondering found
A ftrange appearance all in taintless white;
His form gave reverence, and his face delight:
Goodness and greatnefs in his eyes were feen,
Gentle his look, and affable his mcin.
A kindly notice of me thus he took :
" What mean these flowing eyes, this ghaftly

look! Thele trembling joints, this loose disheveld hair, “ And this cold dew, the drops of deep despair :”

With grief and wonder first my spirits faint, But thus at last I vented my complaint : Behold a wretch whom cruel fate has found, And in the depth of all misfortune drown'd. There fhines a nymph, to whom an envy'd sivain Is ty'd in Hymen's ceremonious chain ; But, cloy'd with charms of such a marriage-bed, And fed with manna, yet he longs for bread; And will, most husband-like, not only range For love perhaps of nothing else but change, But to inferior beauty proftrate lies, And courts her love in scorn of Flavia's eyes.

All this I knew (the form divine reply'd) And did but alk to have thy temper try'd,

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