Dryden. Three miles he went, nor further could retreat;
His travels ended at his country-feat;
To Chaffi's pleafing plains he took his way,
There pitch'd his tents, and there refolv'd to stay.
The spring was in the prime;, the neighb'ring
grove
Supply'd with birds, the chorifters of love:
Mufic unbought, that minifter'd delight
To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by night:
There he discharg'd his friends; but not th'ex-
Of frequent treats, and proud magnificence.
He liv'd as kings retire, tho' more at large
From public bufinefs, yet with equal charge;
With houfe, and heart ftill open to receive;
As well content as love would give him leave:
He would have liv'd more free; but many a guest,
Who could forfake the friend! purfu'd the feaft.
It happ'd one morning, as his fancy led,
Before his ufual hour he left his bed;
To walk within a lonely lawn, that stood
On ev'ry fide furrounded by a wood:
Alone he walk'd, to please his penfive mind,
And fought the deepeft folitude to find;
'Twas in a grove of fpreading pines he ftray'd;
The winds within the quiv'ring branches play'd,
And dancing trees a mournful mufic made.
The place itself was fuiting to his care,
Uncouth and favage, as the cruel fair.
He wander'd on, unknowing where he went,
Loft in the wood, and all on love intent:
The day already half it's race had run,
And fummon'd him to due repast at noon;
But love could feel no hunger but his own.
Whilft liftning to the murm'ring leaves he
ftood,
More than a mile immers'd within the wood,
At once the wind was laid; the whifp'ring found
Was dumb; a rifing earthquake rock'd the ground;
With deeper brown the grove was overspread;
A fudden horror feiz'd his giddy head,
And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled:
Nature was in alarm; fome danger nigh
Seem'd threaten'd, tho' unfeen by mortal eye,
Unus'd to fear, he fummon'd all his foul,
And stood collected in himself, and whole;
Not long: for foon a whirlwind rofe around.
And from afar he heard a fcreeming found,
As of a dame diftrefs'd, who cry'd for aid,
And fill'd with loud laments the fecret fhade.
A thicket clofe befide the grove there stood, With briers and brambles choak'd, and dwarfish wood;
From thence the noife, which now approaching
With more distinguish'd notes invades his ear;
He rais'd his head, and faw a beauteous maid,
With hair difhevell'd iffuing thro' the fhade;
Stripp'd of her clothes, and even those parts rë-
veal'd,
Which modest nature keeps from fight conceal'd.
Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn,
With paffing thro' the brakes and prickly thorn;
Two maftiffs gaunt and grim her flight purfu'd,
And oft their faften'd fangs in blood embru'd;
Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender fide,
Mercy, O Mercy, heav'n, fhe ran, and cry'd;
When heav'n was nam'd, they loos'd their hold
again,
Then sprung fhe forth, they follow'd her amain.
Not far behind, a knight of swarthy face
High on a coal-black steed purfu'd the chace;
With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd,
And in his hand a naked fword he held :
He chear'd the dogs to follow her that fled,
And vow'd revenge on her devoted head.
As Theodore was born of noble kind,
The brutal action rous'd his manly mind;
Moy'd with unworthy ufage of the maid,
He, tho' unarm'd, refolv'd to give her aid.
A faplin pine he wrench'd from out the ground,
The readieft weapon that his fury found;
Thus furnish'd for offence, he cross'd the way,
Betwixt the graceless villain and his prey.
The knight came thund'ring on, but, from
afar
'Thus in imperious tone forbad the wars
Ceafe, Theodore, to proffer vain relief,
Nor stop the vengeance of fo juft a grief;
But give me leave to seize my deftin'd
And let eternal juftice take the way:
I but revenge my fate, difdain'd, betray'd
And fuff'ring death for this ungrateful maid.
He faid, at once difmounting from the steed;
For now the hell-hounds with fuperior speed
Had reach'd the dame, and faft'ning on her fide,
The ground with iffuing ftreams of purple dy'd.
Stood Theodore furpris'd in deadly fright,
With chatt'ring teeth, and bristling hairs upright:
Yet arm'd with inborn worth, whate'er, faid he,
Thou art, who know'ft me better than I thee;
Or prove thy rightful cause, or be defy'd,
The spectre, fiercely ftaring, thus reply'd:
Know, Theodore, thy ancestry I claim,
And Guido Cavalcanti was my name.
One common fire our fathers did beget,
My name and story fome remember yet:
Thee, then a boy, within my arms I laid,
When for my fins I lov'd this haughty maid;
Not lefs ador'd in life, nor ferv'd by me,
Than proud Honoria now is lov'd by thee.
What did I not her ftubborn heart to gain?
But all my vows were anfwer'd with disdain;
She fcorn'd my forrows, and defpis'd my pain.j
Long time I dragg'd my days in fruitless care;
Then lothing life, and plung'd in deep defpair,
To finish my unhappy life, I fell
On this sharp fword, and now am damn'd in hell,
Short was her joy; for foon th' insulting maid
By heav'n's decree in this cold grave was laid.
And as in unrepented fin fhe dy'd,
Doom'd to the fame bad place is punifh'd for her
pride:
Because the deem'd I well deferv'd to die,
And made a merit of her cruelty.
There, then, we met; both try'd, and both were caft,
And this irrevocable fentence pafs'd,
That she, whom I fo long purfu'd in vain,
Should fuffer from my hands a ling'ring pain:
Renew'd to life that fhe might daily die,
I daily doom'd to follow, fhe to flie!
No more a lover, but a mortal foe,
I feek her life (for love is none below;)
As often as my dogs with better speed
Arreft her flight, is fhe to death decreed:
Then with this fatal fword, on which I dy'd,
I pierce her open back, or tender fide,
And tear that harden'd heart from out her breast,
Which with her entrails makes my hungry hounds
a feast.
Nor lies fhe long, but as her fates ordain,
Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain,
Is fav'd to-day, to-morrow to be flain.
This, vers'd in death, th' infernal knight rela
tes,
And then for proof fulfill'd the common fates;
Her heart and bowels to the back he drew,
And fed the hounds that help'd him to purfue,
Stern look'd the fiend, as fruftrate of his will,
Not half fuffic'd, and greedy yet to kill,
And now the foul expiring through the wound
Had left the body breathlefs on the ground,
When thus the grifly spectre spoke again:
Behold the fruit of ill rewarded pain:
As many months as I fuftain'd her hate,
So many years is the condemn'd by fate
To daily death; and ev'ry fev'ral place,
Confcious of her difdain, and my difgrace,
Muft witness her juft punifhment; and be
A fcene of triumph and revenge to me.
As in this grove I took my laft farewel,
As on this very spot of earth I fell,
As Friday faw me die, fo fhe my prey
Becomes ev'n here, on this revolving day.
Thus while he spoke, the virgin from the
ground,
Upftarted fresh, already clos'd the wound,
And unconcern'd for all fhe felt before,
Precipitates her flight along the fhore:
The hell-hounds, as ungorg'd with flesh and blood,
Pursue their prey, and feek their wonted food:
The fiend remounts his courfer, mends his pace;
And all the vifion vanifh'd from the place.
Long ftood the noble youth opprefs'd with
And ftupid at the wondrous things he faw.
Surpaffing common faith, transgreffing nature's
law:
He would have been afleep, and wish'd to wake;
But dreams, he knew, no long impreffion make,
Tho' ftrong at firft; if vifion, to what end,
But fuch as muft his future ftate portend?
His love the damfel, and himself the fiend.
But yet reflecting that id could not be
From heav'n, which cannot impious acts decree,
Refolv'd within himself to fhun the fnare,
Which hell for his deftruction did prepare;
And as his better genius fhould direct,
From an ill caufe to draw a good effect.
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