N thofe cold climates, where the Sun appears
Unwillingly, and hides his face in tears;
A difmal vale lies in a defart isle,
On which indulgent Heav'n did never fmile.
There a thick grove of aged Cypress trees,
Which none without an awful horror fees,
Into its wither'd arms, depriv'd of leaves,
Whole flocks of ill-presaging birds receives.
Poisons are all the plants that foil will bear,
And Winter is the only feason there.
Millions of graves o'erfpread the fpacious field,
And springs of blood a thousand rivers yield;
Whofe ftreams, opprefs'd with carcaffes and bones,
Instead of gentle murmurs, pour forth groans.
Within this vale a famous temple stands,
Old as the world itself, which it commands;
Round is its figure; and four iron gates
Divide Mankind, by order of the Fates.
Thither, in crouds, come to one common grave
The young, the old, the Monarch, and the flave.
Old age and pains, thofe evils man deplores,
Are rigid keepers of th' eternal doors;
All clad in mournful blacks, which fadly load
The facred walls of this obfcure abode:
And tapers, of a pitchy fubftance made,
With clouds of fmoke increase the difmal fhade.
A monster void of reason and of fight,
The Goddess is, who fways this realm of night:
Her pow'r extends o'er all things that have breath,
A cruel tyrant, and her name is Death.
The fairest object of our wond'ring eyes
Was newly offer'd up her facrifice;
Th' adjoining places where the altar ftood,
Yet blushing with the fair ALMERIA's blood.
When griev'd ORONTES, whofe unhappy flame
Is known to all who e'er converse with fame,
His mind poffefs'd by fury and defpair,
Within the facred temple made this prayer:
Great Deity! who in thy hands do'st bear
That iron fceptre which poor mortals fear;
Who, wanting eyes thy felf, refpectelt none,
And neither spar'ft the laurel, nor the crown!
O thou, whom all mankind in vain withstand,
Each of whole blood must one day ftain thy hand!
O thou, who ev'ry eye that fees the light,
Clofeft for ever in the fhades of night!
Goddess, attend, and hearken to my grief,
To which thy pow'r alone can give relief.
Alas! I ask not to defer my fate,
But wish my hapless life a shorter date;
And that the earth would in its bowels hide
A wretch, whom Heav'n invades on ev'ry side:
That from the fight of day I could remove,
And might have nothing left me but my love.
Thou only comforter of minds opprefs'd;
The port where weary'd fpirits are at reft;
Conductor to Elyfium, take my life;
My breaft I offer to thy facred knife:
So just a grace refuse not, nor despise
A willing, tho' a worthlefs facrifice,
Others (their frail and mortal state forgot)
Before thy altars are not to be brought
Without constraint; the noife of dying rage,
Heaps of the flain of ev'ry fex and age,
The blade all reeking in the gore it shed,
With fever'd heads and arms confus'dly spread;
The rapid flames of a perpetual fire,
The groans of wretches ready to expire:
This tragick scene in terror makes them live,
Till that is forc'd, which they should freely give;
Yielding unwillingly what Heav'n will have,
Their fears eclipse the glory of their grave:
Before thy face they make indecent moan,
And feel a hundred deaths in fearing one:
Thy flame becomes unhallow'd in their breaft,
And he a murderer, who was a Priest.
But against me thy strongest forces call,
And on my head let all the tempest fall;
No mean retreat shall any weakness show,
But calmly I'll expect the fatal blow;
My limbs not trembling, in my mind no fear
Plaints in my mouth, nor in my eyes a tear.
Think not that time, our wonted fure relief,
That univerfal cure for ev'ry grief,
Whofe aid so many lovers oft have found,
With like fuccefs can ever heal my wound:
Too weak the pow'r of nature, or of art,
Nothing but death can ease a broken heart.
And that thou may'st behold my helpless state,
Learn the extreameft rigour of my fate.
Amidst th' innumerable beauteous train,
Paris, the queen of cities, does contain,
(The fairest town, the largest, and the best)
The fair ALMERIA fhin'd above the rest.
From her bright eyes to feel a hopeless flame,
Was of our youth the most ambitious aim;
Her chains were marks of honour to the brave,
She made a prince whene'er fhe made a slave.
Love, under whofe tyrannick pow'r I groan,
Shew'd me this beauty e'er 'twas fully blown ;
Her tim❜rous charms, and her unpractis'd look,
Their first affurance from my conquest took;
By wounding me fhe learn'd the fatal art,
And the first figh fhe had was from my heart:
My eyes with tears moistning her snowy arms,
Render'd the tribute owing to her charms.
But, as I foonest of all mortals paid
My vows, and to her beauty altars made;
So, among all thofe flaves that figh'd in vain,
She thought me only worthy of my chain.
Love's heavy burden my fubmiffive heart
Endur'd not long, before she bore her part;
My vi'olent flame melted her frozen breast,
And in foft fighs her pity fhe exprefs'd;
Her gentle voice allay'd my raging pains,
And her fair hands fuftain'd me in my chains:
Ev'n tears of pity waited on my moan,
And tender looks were caft on me alone.
My hopes and dangers were lefs mine than hers,
Those fill'd her foul with joys, and thefe with fears:
Our hearts, united, had the fame defires,
And both alike burn'd with impatient fires.
Too faithful Memory! I give thee leave
Thy wretched mafter kindly to deceive;
Oh, make me not poffeffor of her charms,
Let me not find her languish in my arms;
Past joys are now my fancy's mournful themes;
Make all my happy nights appear but dreams:
Let not fuch blifs before my eyes be brought;
O hide those scenes from my tormenting thought;
And in their place difdainful beauty show;
If thou would'st not be cruel, make herso:
And, fomething to abate my deep despair,
O let her feem less gentle, or less fair.
But I in vain flatter my wounded mind;
Never was nymph fo lovely, or fo kind:
No cold repulses my defires suppress'd;
I feldom figh'd, but on ALMERIA's breast:
Of all the passions which mankind destroy,
I only felt excess of love and joy:
Unnumber'd pleasures charm'd my sense, and they
Were, as my love, without the least allay.
As pure, álas! but not fo fure to last,
For, like a pleasing dream, they all are past.
From Heav'n her beauties like fierce lightnings came,
Which break thro' darkness with a glorious flame;
A while they shine, a while our minds amaze,
Our wondring eyes are dazled with the blaze;
But thunder follows, whofe refiftless rage
None can withstand, and nothing can affuage;
And all that light which those bright flashes gave,
Serves only to conduct us to our grave.
When I had just begun love's joys to taste,
(Those full rewards for fears and dangers past)
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