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The Babe, as if he heard what thou hadst sworn,
With hafty Joy sprung forward to be born.
What helps it to have weather'd out one Storm?
Fear of our Father does another form.

High in his Hall, rock'd in a Chair of State,
The King with his tempeftuous Council fate;
Thro' this large Room our only Paffage lay,
By which we could the new-born Babe convey:
Swath'd in her Lap, the bold Nurse bore him out:
With Olive Branches cover'd round about;
And, mutt'ring Pray'rs, as Holy Rites fhe meant,
Thro' the divided Crowd unqueftion'd went.
Juft at the Door th' unhappy Infant cry'd :
The Grandfire heard him, and the Theft he spy'd.
Swift as a Whirlwind to the Nurse he flies,
And deafs his stormy Subjects with his Cries.
With one fierce Puff he blows the Leaves away:
Expos'd the self-discover'd Infant lay.
The Noife reach'd me, and my presaging Mind
Too foon its own approaching Woes divin'd.
Not Ships at Sea with Winds are fhaken more,
Nor Seas themselves, when angry Tempeits roar,
Than I, when my loud Father's Voice I hear:
The Bed beneath me trembled with my Fear.
He rush'd upon me, and divulg'd my Stain;
Scarce from my Murther could his Hands refrain.

I only answer'd him with filent Tears;

They flow'd; my Tongue was frozen up with Fears. His little Grand-child he commands away,

To Mountain Wolves and ev'ry Bird of Prey.

The

The Babe cry'd out, as if he understood,
And begg'd his Pardon with what Voice he could.
By what Expreffions can my Grief be shown?
(Yet you may guess my Anguifh by your own),
To fee my Bowels, and what yet was worse,
Your Bowels too, condemn'd to fuch a Curfe!
Out went the King; my Voice its Freedom found,
My Breasts I beat, my blubber'd Cheeks I wound.
And now appear'd the Meffenger of Death,
Sad were his Looks, and fcarce he drew his Breath,
To fay, Your Father fends you (with that Word
His trembling Hands prefented me a Sword:)
Your Father fends you this; and lets you know,
That your own Crimes the Ufe of it will show.
Too well I know the Senfe thofe Words impart
His Prefent fhall be treafur'd in my Heart.
Are thefe the Nuptial Gifts a Bride receives?
And this the fatal. Dow'r a Father gives?
Thou God of Marriage, fhun thy own Difgrace,
And take thy Torch from this detefted Place;
Instead of that, let Furies light their Brands;
And fire my Pile with their infernal Hands.
With happier Fortune may my Sifters Wed;
Warn'd by the dire Example of the Dead.
For thee, poor Babe, what Crime could they pretend?
How could thy Infant Innocence offend?

A Guilt there was; but Oh that Guilt was mine!
Thou fuffer'ft for a Sin that was not thine.
Thy Mother's Grief and Crime! but just enjoy'd,
Shewn to my fight, and born to be destroy'd!

Unhappy

Unhappy Off-fpring of my teeming Womb!
Drag'd headlong from thy Cradle to thy Tomb!
Thy un-offending Life I could not fave,
Nor weeping could I follow to thy Grave!
Nor on thy Tomb could offer my fhorn Hair ;
Nor fhew the Grief which tender Mothers bear.
Yet long thou shalt not from my Arms be loft,
For foon I will o'ertake thy Infant Ghost.

But thou, my Love, and now my Love's Defpair,
Perform his Fun'rals with paternal Care.

His fcatter'd Limbs with my dead Body burni
And once more join us in the pious Urn.
If on my wounded Breaft thou drop'ft a Tear,
Think for whofe fake my Breaft that Wound did bear
And faithfully my laft Defires fulfil,

As I perform my cruel Father's Will.

PHILLIS

PHILLIS TO DEMOPHOON.

By ED. POLEY, Efq;

The ARGUMENT.

Demophoon, who was Son to Thefeus and Phædra, in returning from the Trojan War into his own Country, was by a Tempest driven upon the Coafts of Thrace, where Phillis, who was then Queen of Thrace, entertain'd and marry'd him. When he had ftay'd with her fome Time, he heard that Meneftheus was dead, (who, after he had conquer'd Thefeus, bad ufurp'd the Government of Athens) and under pretence of fettling his own Affairs, he went to Athens, and promis'd the Queen that he would come back again in a Month. When he had been gone four Months, and that she had heard no News of him, she writes him this Letter.

Y

Ou've gone beyond your Time, and ought to give So kind a Wife as Phillis leave to grieve. You promis'd me you would no longer stay, Than 'till the firft full Moon should light your Way. Thrice did it fince its borrow'd Light renew, And thrice has chang'd, but not fo much as you. Did you the Days, and Hours, and Minutes tell, As Phillis does, and they that love so well,

You'd

You'd fay 'twere time to weep; your Sorrows too
Would justify those Tears she sheds for you.
Still did I hope, and thought you'd still be here;
We hardly can believe thofe Things we fear;
Now 'tis too plain, and, fpight of Love and you,
I must both fear it, and believe it too.

How oft did I deceive my felf, and swore

I saw your Ship juft making to the Shore ?

Then curs'd thofe Friends I thought had caus'd your staye Would you were half so innocent as they.

Sometimes I fear'd, by foaming Billows toft,

You might be Shipwreck'd whilft you fought the Coast.
And griev'd t'have injur'd whom I thought fo true,
I begg'd that Pardon I'd refus'd to you.
Then, cruel Man! did I the Gods implore
To let you live, tho' I ne'er faw you more.
When I a favourable Gale efpy'd,

He comes, if he's alive, he comes, I cry'd.
And thus my Love ftill fought fome new Pretence,
And I grew eloquent in your Defence.

Yet thou avoid'ft me ftill, nor do I fee

Those Promises thou mad'ft to Heav'n and me.
"But thy falfe Vows, alas! were all but Wind,

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Thy Vows and Wishes made the Gale more kind : "They fill'd your Sails, and you were forc'd away, "By the fame Wishes, which you made to stay. What have I done, but lov'd to an Excefs? You'd not been guilty had I lov'd you lefs. My only Crime is, loving you too well; But fure fome Merit in that Crime does dwell.

Where's

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