[sheet.

The beauteous princess, whose free soul had been
Yet guarded in her virgin ice, and now
A stranger is to what she doth allow
Such easy entrance. By those rays that fall
From either's eyes, to make reciprocal
Their yielding passions, brave Argalia felt,
Even in the grasp of death, his functions melt
To flames, which on his heart an onset make
For sadness, such as weary mortals take
Eternal farewells in. Yet in this high
Tide of his blood, in a soft calm to die,
His yielding spirits now prepare to meet
Death, clothed in thoughts white as his winding-
That fatal doom, which unto heaven affords
The sole appeal, one of the assisting lords
Had now pronounced whose horrid thunder could
Not strike his laurell'd brow; that voice which
Have petrified a timorous soul, he hears [would
With calm attention. No disorder'd fears
Ruffled his fancy, nor domestic war
Raged in his breast; his every look so far
From vulgar passions, that, unless, amazed
At beauty's majesty he sometime gazed
Wildly on that as emblems of more great
Glories than earth afforded, from the seat
Of resolution his fix'd soul had not

Been stirr'd to passion, which had now begot
Wonder, not fear, within him. No harsh frown
Contracts his brow; nor did his thoughts pull down
One fainting spirit, wrapt in smother'd groans,
To clog his heart. From her most eminent thrones
Of sense, the eyes, the lightning of his soul
Flew with such vigour forth, it did control
All weaker passions, and at once include
With Roman valour Christian fortitude.

BOOK III. CANTO II.

The father of Pharonnida, having discovered her attachment to Argalia, breaks into rage and thus threatens her.

SILENT with passion, which his eyes inflamed,
The prince awhile beholds her ere he blamed
The frailty of affection; but at length,

Through the quick throng of thoughts, arm'd with

a strength,

Which crush'd the soft paternal smiles of love,
He thus begins-"And must, O must that prove
My greatest curse on which my hopes ordain'd
To raise my happiness? Have I refrain'd
The pleasures of a nuptial bed, to joy
Alone in thee, nor trembled to destroy
My name, so that advancing thine I might
Live to behold my sceptre take its flight
To a more spacious empire? Have I spent
My youth till, grown in debt to age, she hath sent
Diseases to arrest me that impair

My strength and hopes e'er to enjoy an heir,

Which might preserve our name, which only now
Must in our dusty annals live; whilst thou
Transfer'st the glory of our house on one,
Which had not I warm'd into life, had gone,
A wretch forgotten of the world, to th' earth [birth
From whence he sprung? But tear this monstrous
Of fancy from thy soul, quick as thou'dst fly
Descending wrath if visible, or I
Shall blast thee with my anger till thy name
Rot in my memory; not as the same
That once thou wert behold thee, but as some
Dire prodigy, which to foreshow should come
All ills which through the progress of my life
Did chance were sent. I lost a queen and wife,
Thy virtuous mother, who for goodness might
Have here supplied, before she took her flight
To heaven, my better angel's place; have since
Stood storms of strong affliction; still a prince
Over my passions until now, but this
Hath proved me coward. Oh! thou dost amiss
To grieve me thus, fond girl."—With that he shook
His reverend head; beholds her with a look
Composed of grief and anger, which she sees
With melting sorrow; but resolved love frees
Her from more yielding pity—

She falls
Prostrate at's feet; to his remembrance calls
Her dying mother's will, by whose pale dust
She now conjures him not to be unjust
Unto that promise, with which her pure soul
Fled satisfied from earth-as to control
Her freedom of affection.-

She then

Calls to remembrance who relieved him when
Distress'd within Aleythius' walls; the love
His subjects bore Argalia, which might prove
Her choice her happiness; with all, how great
A likelihood, it was but the retreat

Of royalty to a more safe disguise
Had show'd him to their state's deluded eyes
So mean a thing. Love's boundless rhetoric
About to dictate more, he, with a quick
And furious haste, forsakes the room, his rage
Thus boiling o'er-" And must my wretched age
Be thus by thee tormented? but take heed,
Correct thy passions, or their cause must bleed,
Until he quench the flame-"

*

Her soul, oppress'd, Sinks in a pale swoon, catching at the rest

It must not yet enjoy; swift help lends light,
Though faint and glimmering, to behold what night
Of grief o'ershadow'd her. You that have been
Upon the rack of passion, tortured in

The engines of forbidden love, that have
Shed fruitless tears, spent hopeless sighs, to crave
A rigid parent's fair aspect, conceive

What wild distraction seized her. I must leave
Her passions' volume only to be read

Within the breasts of such whose hearts have bled

At the like dangerous wounds.

BOOK III. CANTO III.

THROUGH the dark path of dusty annals we,
Led by his valour's light, return to see
Argalia's story, who hath, since that night
Wherein he took that strange distracted flight
From treacherous Ardenna, perform'd a course
So full of threat'ning dangers, that the force
Of his protecting angel trembled to
Support his fate, which crack'd the slender clew
Of destiny almost to death: his stars,
Doubting their influence when such horrid wars
The gods proclaim'd, withdrew their languish'd

beams

Beneath heaven's spangled arch; in pitchy streams
The heavy clouds unlade their wombs, until
The angry winds, fearing the floods should fill
The air, the region where they ruled, did break
Their marble lodgings; Nature's self grew weak
With these distemperatures, and seem'd to draw
Tow'rd dissolution-her neglected law
Each element forgot. Th' imprison'd flame,
When the clouds' stock of moisture could not tame
Its violence, in sulph'ry flashes broke
Thorough the glaring air; the swoln clouds spoke
In the loud voice of thunder; the sea raves
And foams with anger, hurls his troubled waves
High as the moon's dull orb, whose waning light
Withdrew to add more terror to the night.

ARGALIA TAKEN PRISONER BY THE TURKS.

THE Turks had ought

Made desperate onslaughts on the isle, but brought
Nought back but wounds and infamy; but now,
Wearied with toil, they are resolved to bow
Their stubborn resolutions with the strength
Of not-to-be-resisted want: the length
Of the chronical disease extended had

To some few months, since to oppress the sad
But constant islanders, the army lay,
Circling their confines. Whilst this tedious stay
From battle rusts the soldier's valour in
His tainted cabin, there had often been,
With all variety of fortune, fought

Brave single combats, whose success had brought
Honour's unwither'd laurels on the brow
Of either party; but the balance, now
Forced by the hand of a brave Turk, inclined
Wholly to them. Thrice had his valour shined
In victory's refulgent rays, thrice heard
The shouts of conquest; thrice on his lance appear'd
The heads of noble Rhodians, which had struck
A general sorrow 'mongst the knights. All look
Who next the lists should enter; each desires
The task were his, but honour now requires
A spirit more than vulgar, or she dies
The next attempt, their valour's sacrifice;
To prop whose ruins, chosen by the free
Consent of all, Argalia comes to be

Their happy champion. Truce proclaim'd, until
The combat ends, th' expecting people fill
The spacious battlements; the Turks forsake
Their tents, of whom the city ladies take
A dreadful view, till a more noble sight
Diverts their looks; each part behold their knight
With various wishes, whilst in blood and sweat
They toil for victory. The conflict's heat
Raged in their veins, which honour more inflamed
Than burning calentures could do; both blamed
The feeble influence of their stars, that gave
No speedier conquest; each neglects to save
Himself, to seek advantage to offend
His eager foe.

But now so long

The Turks' proud champion had endured the

strong

Assaults of the stout Christian, till his strength Cool'd, on the ground, with his blood-he fell at length,

Beneath his conquering sword. The barbarous crew
O' the villains that did at a distance view
Their champion's fall, all bands of truce forgot,
Running to succour him, begin a hot
And desperate combat with those knights that stand
To aid Argalia, by whose conquering hand
Whole squadrons of them fall, but here he spent
His mighty spirit in vain, their cannons rent
His scatter'd troops.

Argalia lies in chains, ordain'd to die
A sacrifice unto the cruelty

Of the fierce bashaw, whose loved favourite in
The combat late he slew; yet had not been
In that so much unhappy, had not he,
That honour'd then his sword with victory,
Half-brother to Janusa been, a bright
But cruel lady, whose refined delight

Her slave (though husband), Ammurat, durst not
Ruffle with discontent; wherefore, to cool that hot |
Contention of her blood, which he foresaw
That heavy news would from her anger draw,
To quench with the brave Christian's death, he sent
Him living to her, that her anger, spent
In flaming torments, might not settle in
The dregs of discontent. Staying to win
Some Rhodian castles, all the prisoners were
Sent with a guard into Sardinia, there
To meet their wretched thraldom. From the rest
Argalia sever'd, soon hopes to be blest
With speedy death, though waited on by all
The hell-instructed torments that could fall
Within invention's reach; but he's not yet
Arrived to his period, his unmoved stars sit
Thus in their orbs secured. It was the use
Of th' Turkish pride, which triumphs in th' abuse
Of suffering Christians, once, before they take
The ornaments of nature off, to make
Their prisoners public to the view, that all
Might mock their miseries: this sight did call
Janusa to her palace-window, where,
Whilst she beholds them, love resolved to bear

Veil'd o'er their beauty.

His guilty conduct now had brought him near
Janusa's room, the glaring lights appear
Thorough the window's crystal walls, the strong
Perfumes of balmy incense mix'd among
The wandering atoms of the air did fly.

The open doors allow
A free access into the room, where come,
Such real forms he saw as would strike dumb
The Alcoran's tales of Paradise, the fair
And sparkling gems i' the gilded roof impair
Their taper's fire, yet both themselves confess
Weak to those flames Janusa's eyes possess
With such a joy as bodies that do long

For souls, shall meet them in the doomsday throng,
She that ruled princes, though not passions, sate
Waiting her lover, on a throne whose state
Epitomized the empire's wealth; her robe,
With costly pride, had robb'd the chequer'd globe
Of its most fair and orient jewels, to
Enhance its value; captive princes who
Had lost their crowns, might there those gems have

[seen.

Placed in a seat near her bright throne, to stir
His settled thoughts she thus begins: "From her
Your sword hath so much injured as to shed
Blood so near kin to mine, that it was fed
By the same milky fountains, and within
One womb warm'd into life, is such a sin
I could not pardon, did not love commit
A rape upon my mercy all the wit

Of man in vain inventions had been lost,
Ere thou redeem'd; which now, although it cost
The price of all my honours, I will do:
Be but so full of gratitude as to
Repay my care with love. Why dost thou thus
Sit dumb to my discourse? it lies in us
To raise or ruin thee, and make my way
Thorough their bloods that our embraces stay.”

To charm those sullen spirits that within
The dark cells of his conscience might have been
Yet by religion hid-that gift divine,
The soul's composure, music, did refine
The lazy air, whose polish'd harmony,
Whilst dancing in redoubled echoes, by

A wanton song was answer'd, whose each part
Invites the hearing to betray the heart.
Having with all these choice flowers strew'd the way
That leads to lust, to shun the slow decay
Of his approach, her sickly passions haste
To die in action. "Come," she cries, "we waste
The precious minutes. Now thou know'st for what
Thou'rt sent for hither."

With virtue cool'd.

Brave Argalia sits,

And must my freedom then At such a rate be purchased? rather, when My life expires in torments, let my name Forgotten die, than live in black-mouth'd fame, A servant to thy lust. Go, tempt thy own

Damn'd infidels to sin, that ne'er had known
The way to virtue: not this cobweb veil
Of beauty, which thou wear'st but as a jail
To a soul pale with guilt, can cover o'er
Thy mind's deformity.

Rent from these gilded pleasures, send me to
A dungeon dark as hell, where shadows do
Reign in eternal silence; let these rich
And costly robes, the gaudy trappings which
Thou mean'st to clothe my sin in, be exchanged
For sordid rags. When thy fierce spleen hath ranged
Through all invented torments, choose the worst
To punish my denial; less accurst
I so shall perish, than if by consent

I taught thy guilty thoughts how to augment
Their sin in action, and, by giving ease
To thy blood's fever, took its loath'd disease.
Her look,

Cast like a felon's

Was sad; with silent grief the room she leaves.

BOOK III. CANTO IV.

OUR noble captive, to fair virtue's throne

In safety past, though through lust's burning zone,
Finds in his dungeon's lazy damps a rest
More sweet, though with the heavy weights oppress'd
Of iron bondage, than if they had been
Love's amorous wreaths.

* But she breathes curses in Her soul's pale agony.

And now she steeps Her down in tears-a flood of sorrow weeps, Of power (if penitent) to expiate

Youth's vigorous sins; but all her mourning sate¦ Beneath a darker veil than that which shades Repentant grief.

So far the fair Janusa in this sad
Region of grief had gone, till sorrow had
That fever turn'd, upon whose flaming wings
At first love only sate, to one which brings
Death's symptoms near the heart.

* The rose had lost
His ensigns in her cheeks, and though it cost
Pains near to death, the lily had alone
Set his pale banners up; no brightness shone
Within her eye's dim orbs, whose fading light
Being quench'd in death, had set in endless night,
Had not the wise endeavours of her maid,
The careful Manto, grief's pale scouts betray'd,
By sly deceit.

Although she cures not, yet gives present ease,
By laying opiates to the harsh disease.
A letter, which did for uncivil blame
His first denial, in the stranger's name
Disguised, she gives her; which, with eyes that did
O'erflow with joy read o'er, had soon forbid
Grief's sullen progress, whose next stage had been
O'er life's short road, the grave-death's quiet inn,

From whose dark terror, by this gleam of light,
Like trembling children by a lamp's weak light,
Freed from night's dreadful shadows, she embraced
Sleep, nature's darkness-

and upon the wings
Of airy hope, that wanton bird which sings
As soon as fledged, advanced her to survey
The dawning beauties of a long'd-for day.

But ere this pyramid of pleasure to
Its height arrives-with's presence to undo
The golden structure-dreadful Ammurat,
From his floating mansion lately landed at
The city's port, impatient love had brought
In an untimely visit.

[care

He enters, and she faints! in which pale trance
His pity finds her, but to no such chance
Imputes the cause: rather conceives it joy,
Whose rushing torrent made her heart employ
Its nimble servants, all her spirits, to
Prevent a deluge, which might else undo
Love's new made commonwealth. But whilst his
Hastens to help, her fortune did declare
Her sorrow's dark enigma; from her bed
The letter dropt-which, when life's army fled,
Their frontier garrisons neglected, had
Been left within't-this seen, declares a sad
Truth to th' amazed Bassa, though 'twere mix'd
With subtle falsehood. While he stands, betwixt
High rage and grief distracted, doubtful yet
In what new dress to wear revenge, the fit
Forsakes Janusa; who, not knowing she
Detected stood of lust's conspiracy
'Gainst honour's royal charter, from a low
Voice strains a welcome, which did seem to flow
From fickle discontent, such as the weak [break.
Lungs breathe their thoughts in whilst their fibres

To counterfeited slumbers leaving her,
He's gone with silent anger to confer ;
With such a farewell as kind husbands leave
Their pregnant wives, preparing to receive
A mother's first of blessings, he forsakes
The room, and into strict inquiry takes
The wretched Manto, who, ere she could call
Excuse to aid, surprised, discovers all.

The captive Argalia is again brought before Janusa, who is unconscious that the Bassa had read the letter. Ammurat, in the mean time, is concealed to watch the interview.

PLACED, by false Manto, in a closet, which,
Silent and sad, had only to enrich

Its roof with light, some few neglected beams
Sent from Janusa's room, which serve as streams
To watch intelligence; here he beheld,
Whilst she who with his absence had expell'd
All thoughtful cares, was with her joy swell'd high,
As captives are when call'd to liberty.
Perfumed and costly, her fair bed was more
Adorn'd than shrines which costly kings adore;

Incense, in smoky curls, climbs to the fair
Roof, whilst choice music rarifies the air;
Each element in more perfection here,
Than in the first creation did appear,
Yet lived in harmony: the wing'd fire lent
Perfumes to the air, that to moist cordials pent
In crystal vials, strength; and those impart
Their vigour to that ball of earth, the heart.
The nice eye here epitomized might see
Rich Persia's wealth, and old Rome's luxury.

But now, like Nature's new-made favourite,
Who, until all created for delight

Was framed, did ne'er see Paradise, comes in
Deceived Argalia, thinking he had been
Call'd thither to behold a penitent.

With such a high

Heroic scorn as aged saints that die,
Heaven's fav'rites, leave the trivial world-he
slights

That gilded pomp ; no splendent beam invites
His serious eye to meet their objects in
An amorous glance, reserved as he had been
Before his grave confessor: he beholds
Beauty's bright magic, while its art unfolds
Great love's mysterious riddles, and commands
Captive Janusa to infringe the bands
Of matrimonal modesty. When all
Temptation fails, she leaves her throne to fall,
The scorn of greatness, at his feet: but prayer,
Like flattery, expires in useless air,

Too weak to batter that firm confidence
Their torment's thunder could not shake. From
Despair, love's tyrant, had enforced her to [hence
More wild attempts, had not her Ammurat, who,
Unseen, beheld all this, prevented, by
His sight, the death of bleeding modesty.

Made swift with rage, the ruffled curtain flies
His angry touch-he enters-fix'd his eyes,
From whence some drops of rage distil, on her
Whose heart had lent her face its character.
Whilst he stood red with flaming anger, she
Looks pale with fear-passion's disparity
Dwelt in their troubled breasts; his wild eyes stood
Like comets, when attracting storms of blood
Shook with portentous sad, the whilst hers sate
Like the dull earth, when trembling at the fate
Of those ensuing evils-heavy fix'd
Within their orbs. Passions thus strangely mix'd,
No various fever e'er created in

The phrenzied brain, when sleep's sweet calm had
From her soft throne deposed.
[been

So having paused, his dreadful voice thus broke
The dismal silence.

Thou curse of my nativity, that more
Affects me than eternal wrath can do-
Spirits condemn'd, some fiends, instruct me to
Heighten revenge to thy desert; but so

I should do more than mortals may, and throw