But if the fair-one, as he fears, is frails.
If, pois'd aright in Reason's equal scale,
Light fly her merit, and her faults prevail;
His mind he vows to free from am'rous care,
The latent mifchief from his heart to tear,
Refume his azure arms, and fhine again in war.
South of the castle, in a verdant glade,
A fpreading beech extends her friendly shade;
Here oft the nymph his breathing vows had heard,
Here oft her filence had her heart declar'd.

As active Spring awak'd her infant buds,

And genial life inform'd the verdant woods,
Henry, in knots involving Emma's name,
Had half exprefs'd, and half conceal'd his flame,
Upon this tree; and, as the tender mark
Grew with the year, and widen'd with the bark,
Venus had heard the virgin's foft address,,

That, as the wound, the paffion might increase.
As potent Nature shed her kindly fhow'rs,
And deck'd the various mead with op'ning flow'rs,
Upon this tree the nymph's obliging care
Had left a frequent wreath for Henry's hair;
Which, as with gay delight the lover found,
Pleas'd with his conqueft, with her prefent crown'd,
Glorious thro' all the plains he oft had gone,
And to each fwain the mystick honour shown;
The gift ftill prais'd, the giver ftill unknown.,

His fecret note the troubled Henry writes;
To the known tree the lovely maid invites:
Imperfect words and dubious terms exprefs,
That unforeseen mifchance disturb'd his peace;
That he muft fomething to her ear commend,
On which her conduct and his life depend.

Soon as the fair one had the note receiv'd,

The remnant of the day alone the griev'd; js

}

For

}

For diff'rent this from ev'ry former note,

Which Venus dictated, and Henry wrote; makan kigg
Which told her all his future hopes were laid

On the dear bofom of his Nut-brown Maid;

Which always bless'd her eyes, and own'd her pow'r,
And bid her oft adieu, yet added more.

པའི ཨི ནི པརམ :|:ཀྱི

Now night advanc'd: the house in fleep were laid; 2
The nurse experienc'd, and the prying maid;
At last, that fprite which does inceffant haunts
'The lover's fteps, the ancient maiden aunt;
To her dear Henry, Emma wings her way,
With quicken'd pace repairing forc'd delay.
For Love, fantaftick pow'r, that is afraid
To stir abroad till watchfulness be laid,
Undaunted, then, o'er cliffs and vallies ftrays,
And leads his vot'ries fafe thro' pathlefs ways:
Not Argus, with his hundred eyes, shall find
Where Cupid goes; tho' he, poor guide! is blind.
The maiden firft arriving, fent her eye

To ask if yet it's chief delight were nigh:
With fear and with defire, with joy and pain,
She fees, and runs to meet him on the plain.
But, oh his fteps proclaim no lover's haste;
On the low ground his fix'd.regards are caft;
His artful bofom heaves diffembled fighs,
And tears, fuborn'd, fall copious from his eyes.
With eafe, alas! we credit what we love;
His painted grief does real forrow move
In the afflicted fair; adown her cheek,
Trickling, the genuine tears their current break.
Attentive ftood the mournful nymph: the man
Broke filence firft; the tale alternate ran.

HENRY.

Sincere, O tell me, haft thou felt a pain, Emma, beyond what woman knows to feign?

Has thy uncertain bosom ever ftrove

With the first tumults of a real love

i

Haft thou now dreaded, and now bless'd his sways
By turns averfe, and joyful to obey?

Thy virgin foftnefs haft thou e'er bewail'd,
As reafon yielded, and as love prevail'd?
And wept the potent god's refiftless dart,
His killing pleasure, his extatick fmart,
And heav'nly poison thrilling thro' thy heart?
If fo, with pity view my wretched state;
At least deplore, and then forget my fate:
To fome more happy knight referve thy charms,
By Fortune favour'd, and successful arms;
And only, as the fun's revolving ray

Brings back each year this melancholy day,
Permit one figh, and set apart one tear,
To an abandon'd exile's endless care.
For me, alas! outcast of human race,
Love's anger only waits, and dire disgrace;
For, lo! these hands in murder are imbru'd,
These trembling feet by Juftice are purfu'd :
Fate calls aloud, and hastens me away;
A fhameful death attends my longer stay;
And I, this night, must fly from thee and love,
Condemn'd in lonely woods, a banish'd man, to rove.

EMMA.

What is our blifs, that changeth with the moon;

And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon?

What is true paffion, if unblefs'd it dies ?
And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies?
If love, alas! be pain, the pain I bear
No thought can figure, and no tongue declare.
Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor falfe-one feign'd,
The flames which long have in my
bofom reign'd:
The god of Love himself inhabits there,
With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care,
His complement of ftores, and total war.
O! ceafe, then, coldly to fufpect my love,
And let my deed at least my faith approve.

}

Alas!

Stothard del.

Walker faulp.

Plate XI.

Published as the Act directs, by Harrison & C° Oct!1.1781.

Page 390