Ev'n so dear Ned thy desperate Pen No less disturbs all Witty Men And makes them wonder what a Devil Provokes Thee to be so uncivil When thou and all thy Friends must know 'em Thou yet wilt dare to Print thy Poem That poor Curs Fate and thine are one Who has his Tail Peg'd in a Bone About he runs no body'l own him Men Boys and Dogs are all upon him And first the greater Wits were at thee Now ev'ry little Fool will pat thee Fellows that ne're were heard or read of If thou writ'st on will write thy Head off Thus Mastives only have a knack To cast the Bear upon his back But when th' unweildy Beast is thrown Mungrils will serve to keep him down TRANSLATED FROM Seneca's Troas Act. 2. Chorus By Mr. Glanvill Verum est timidos fabula decipit IS' t True that Souls their Bodies do survive Or does a Flam that timerous World deceive When some dear Friend our dying Eyes has clos'd And Life's last Day Death's endless Night impos'd When the eas'd Corps like an o're-jaded Slave At length set free lies quiet in the Grave Were it not wise the Soul too to Entomb But must we still endure Life's wretched Doom Or happier do we dye entire and whole Leave no continuing Relict of a Soul But when the vital Vapour of our Breath Gasp'd into Air is lost in Clouds and Death We 're gon and all that was of us before To any thing of Life is then no more Yes thus we Perish and thus undergo Th' approaching Lot of all things here below Time flies and all the Sea or Sun goes round With sure and quick destruction shall confound Swift as above the Stars and Moon and Sun In hurrying Orbs their hasty Courses run We Post to Fate nor when we disappear Are we or ever shall be any where As short-liv'd Smoak ascending from the Flame Hovers dissolves and ne're shall be again As gather'd Clouds by scattering Blasts disjoyn'd Disperse and fly before the Hostile Wind So that thin fleeting thing Life passes o're So flows our Spirit out and then 's no more After Death's Nothing Death it self is nought Th' extremest bound of a short Race of Thought Let Slaves and Fools their Fears and Hopes give o're Solicit and delude themselves no more Wou'd you know where you shall be after Death There where you were before you suck'd in Breath The Dead and the unborn are just the same The Dead returning whence the Living came Time takes us whole throws all into the Grave Death will no more the Soul than Body save For Hell and the damn'd Fiend that Lords it there With all the Torments we so vainly fear Are empty Rumours Melancholy Whims Fantastick Notions idle frightful Dreams Horace B. I. Ode XIII Cum Tu Lydia Telephi c. By Mr. Glanvill 1. WHen happy Strephon's too prevailing Charms His rosy Neck and his soft waxen Arms Inhumane Lydia wantonly you praise How cruelly my Jealous Spleen you raise Anger boils up in my hot labouring Breast Not to be hid and less to be supprest 2 Then 'twixt the Rage the Fondness and the Shame Nor Speech nor Thoughts nor Looks remain the same Fickle as my Mind my various Colour shews And with my Tide of Passion Ebbs and Flows Tears stealing fall distill'd by soft Desire To shew the melting slowness of the Fire 3 Ah! when I see that livid Neck betray The drunken Youth 's too rudely Wanton Play When on those passive Lips the marks I find Of frantick boiling Kisses left behind I rave to think these cruel Tokens shew Things I cannot mistake and wou'd not know 4 How fond 's the Hope how foolish and how vain Of lasting Love from the ungrateful Swain Who that soft Lip so roughly can invade Hurting with cruel Joy the tender Maid Quickly they 're glutted who so fierce devour They suck the Nectar and throw by the Flower 5 But oh thrice happy they that equal move In an unbroken Yoke of faithful Love Whome no Complaint no Srife no Jealousy Sets from their gentle grateful Bondage free But still they dear fast mutual Slaves remain Till unkind Death breaks the unwilling Chain Horace B. 1 Ode XXIII By Mr. Glanvill Vitas Hinnuleo me similis Chloe WHen Chloe by your Slave pursu'd Why shou'd you fly so fast So the stray'd Fawn i' th' pathless Wood To her lost Dam makes haste Each Noise Alarms and all things add New Terrour to her Fear She starts at every Dancing shade Each Breath of singing Air. With every Leaf each Bush that shakes Throughout the murmuring Grove Her Sympathetick Heart partakes She trembles as they move Fond Maid unlike the Wolf and Boar I Hunt not to destroy My utmost Prey wou'd be no more Than you might give with Joy Urg'd on by soft and gentle Love I harmlessly pursue Your Flight to me may Cruel prove But not my Chase to you Cease idle Dreams of fancied Harms To Childish Fears Trapanns Leave running to thy Mothers Arms Who now art fit for Man's B. II. Ode XII Nolis longa feroe Bella Numantioe c. By Mr. Glanvill URge me no more to Write of Martial things Of fighting Heroes and of conquering Kings Our brave Fore-Fathers Glory to advance Shew subdu'd Ireland and sing vanquish'd France Tell how Spains Blood the British Ocean swell'd With Shame Invading and with more Repell'd No these high Theams of the Heroick strain Suit ill with my low feeble Vein To equal Numbers I 'd in vain aspire How shou'd I make a Trumpet of a Lyre Much less dare I in an unhallow'd Strain Great Nassau's Wars and Victories Prophane You better may in lasting Prose rehearse Things which defy my humble Verse 'T is a fond think to think to reconcile Such Glorious Actions with so mean a Stile 2. Me fair Lycinnia's softer Praise Her Native Charms and winning ways The Muse ordain'd to sing in gentle Lays Me the sweet Song which Syrens Art defies Me the serenely shining Eyes And above all the gen'rous grateful Heart True to the mutual Love and faithful to its part Lycinnia whose becoming Dance With Airy motion does Loves fire advance Whose wanton Wit wild as her Eyes The tickled Mind does pleasantly surprize Whose various Arts all our loose Powers Alarm A Grace each Action and each word 's a Charm 3. Ah! when her willing Head she greatly bends And fragrant Kisses Languishingly lends When with fond artful Coyness she denys More glad to lose than we to win the Prize Or when the Wanton in a Toying Vein Snatches the Kiss from the prevented Swain Wou'd you then give one Bracelet of her Hair For the poor Crowns that Monarchs wear Wou'd you exchange for all those favourite Isles The Sun laughs on one of her pleasing Smiles Wou'd you for both the Indies Wealth decline The hidden Treasures of her richer Mine Not I for such vain Toys I 'd ne'er remove My wealth my Pomp my Heav'n shou'd all be Love AN
And add fresh Lustre to the Summer Skies And once when hast'ning from the Watry Sign They quit their Station and forbear to Shine The Bees are prone to rage and often found To Perish for Revenge and die upon the Wound Their venom'd Sting produces akeing Pains And swells the Flesh and shoots among the Veins When first a cold hard Winter's Storms arrive And threaten Death or Famine to their Hive If now their sinking State and low Affairs Can move your Pity and provoke your Cares Fresh burning Time before their Cells convey And cut their dry and Husky Wax away For often Lizzards seize the luscious Spoils Or Drones that Riot on another's Toils Oft Broods of Moths infest the hungry Swarms And oft the furious Wasp their Hive Alarms With louder Humms and with unequal Arms Or else the Spider at their Entrance sets Her Snares and spins her Bowels into Nets When Sickness reigns for they as well as we Feel all th' Effects of frail Mortality By certain Marks the new Disease is seen Their Colour changes and their Looks are thin Their Fun'ral Rites are form'd and ev'ry Bee With Grief attends the sad Solemnity The few Diseas'd survivors hang before Their sickly Cells and droop about the door Or slowly in their Hives their Limbs unfold Shrunk up with Hunger and benum'd with Cold In drawling hums the feeble Insects grieve And doleful buzzes ecchoe through the Hive Like Winds that softly murmur thro' the Trees Like Flames pent up or like retiring Seas Now lay fresh Honey near their empty Rooms In Troughs of hollow Reeds whilst frying Gums Cast round a fragrant Mist of spicy Fumes Thus kindly tempt the famisht Swarm to eat And gently reconcile 'em to their Meat Mix Juice of Galls and Wine that grow in time condens'd by Fire and thicken to a Slime To these dry'd Roses Tyme and Centry join And Raisins ripn'd on the Psythian Vine Besides there grows a Flow'r in Marshy Ground Its Name Amellus easie to be found A mighty Spring works in its Roto and cleaves The sprouting Stalk and shews it self in Leaves The Flow'r it self is of a Golden hue The Leaves inclining to a darker Blue The Leaves shoot thick about the Flow'r and grow Into a Bush and shade the Turf below The Plant in holy Garlands often twines The Altars Posts and beautifies the Shrines Its Taste is sharp in Vales new-shorn it grows Where Mella's Stream in watry Mazes flows Take plenty of its Roots and boil 'em well In Wine and heap 'em up before the Cell But if the whole Stock fail and none survive To raise new People and recruit the Hive I 'le here the great Experiment declare That spread th' Arcadian Shepherd's Name so far How Bees from Blood of slaughter'd Bulls have fled And Swarms amidst the Red Corruption bred For where th' Egyptians yearly see their bounds Refresht with floods and sail about their grounds Where Persia borders and the rolling Nile Drives swiftly down the swarthy Indians soil â—Till into sev'n it multiplies its Stream And fattens Egypt with a fruitful Slime In this last Practice all their Hope remains And long Experience justifies their Pains First then a close contracted space of Ground With streightn'd Walls and low-built Roof they bound A narrow shelving Light is next assign'd To all the Quarters one to every Wind Through these the glancing Rays obliquely pierce Hither they lead a Bull that 's young and fierce When two-years growth of Horn he proudly shows And shakes the comely terrours of his Brows His Nose and Mouth the Avenues of Breath They muzzle up and beat his Limbs to death With violence to life and stifling pain He flings and spurns and trys to snort in vain Loud heavy Mows fall thick on ev'ry side Till his bruis'd Bowels burst within the Hide When dead they leave him Rotting on the Ground With Branches Tyme and Cassia strow'd around All this is done when first the Western Breeze Becalms the Year and smooths the troubl'd Seas Before the Chatt'ring Swallow builds her Nest Or Fields in Spring 's Embroidery are drest Mean while the tainted Juice ferments within And Quickens as it works And now are seen A wondrous Swarm that o're the Carcass crawls Of shapeless rude unfinisht Animals No Legs at first the Insects weight sustain At length it moves its new-made Limbs with pain Now strikes the Air with quiv'ring Wings and trys To lift its Body up and learns to rise Now bending Thighs and gilded Wings it wears Full grown and All the Bee at length appears From every side the fruitful Carcass pours Its swarming Brood as thick as Summer-show'rs Or flights of Arrows from the Parthian Bows When twanging Strings first shoot 'em on the Foes Thus have I sung the Nature of the Bee Whilst Caesar towring to Divinity The frighted Indians with his Thunder aw'd And claim'd their Homage and Commenc't a God I flourisht all the while in Arts of Peace Retir'd and shelter'd in Inglorious Ease I who before the Songs of Shepherds made When gay and young my Rural Lays I play'd And set my Tityrus beneath his Shade TO Sir Godfrey Kneller By Mr. DRYDEN ONce I beheld the fairest of her Kind And still the sweet Idea charms my Mind True she was dumb for Nature gaz'd so long Pleas'd with her work that she forgot her Tongue But smiling said She still shall gain the Prize 〈◊〉 only have transferr'd it to her Eyes Such are thy Pictures Kneller Such thy Skill That Nature seems obedient to thy Will Comes out and meets thy Pencil in the draught Lives there and wants but words to speak he thought At least thy Pictures look a Voice and we Imagine sounds deceiv'd to that degree We think 't is somewhat more than just to see Shadows are but privations of the Light Yet when we walk they shoot before the Sight With us approach retire arise and fall Nothing themselves and yet expressing all Such are thy Pieces imitating Life So near they almost conquer'd in the strife And from their animated Canvass came Demanding Souls and loosen'd from the Frame Prometheus were he here wou'd cast away His Adam and refuse a Soul to Clay And either wou'd thy Noble Work Inspire Or think it warm enough without his Fire But vulgar Hands may vulgar Likeness raise This is the least Attendant on thy Praise From hence the Rudiments of Art began A Coal or Chalk first imitated Man Perhaps the Shadow taken on a Wall Gave out-lines to the rude Original E're Canvass yet was strain'd before the Grace Of blended Colours found their use and place Or Cypress Tablets first receiv'd a Face By slow degrees the Godlike Art advanc'd As Man grew polish'd Picture was inhanc'd Greece added posture shade and perspective And then the Mimick Piece began to Live Yet perspective was lame no distance true But all came forward in one common view No point of Light was known no bounds of Art When Light was there it
she streight rejects again Her looks the Emblems of her Thoughts appear Vary'd with Rage with Pity and Despair Alone her Fears incline to no Extream Equally poiz'd betwixt Revenge and Shame At length with more prevaling Rage possest Her jealous Honour steels her daring Breast The thoughts of injur'd Fame new Courage gave And nicer Virtue now confirms her brave Then the fam'd Judith her whole mind employs Urges her hand and sooths the fatal Choice This great Example pleas'd inflam'd by this With wild disorder to the Youth she flys One hand she wreaths within his flowing Hair The other does the ready Weapon bear Now guide me crys fair Hebrew now look down A nd pity Labours thou hast undergone Direct the Hand that takes thy Path to Fame And be Propitious to a Virgin 's Name Who 's Glory 's but a Refuge from her shame Thus rais'd by Hopes and arm'd with Courage now She with undaunted Looks directs the Blow Deep in his Breast the spacious Wound she made And to his Heart dispatch'd th' unerring Blade When their expiring Lord the Servants heard Whose dying Groans the fatal Act declar'd Like a fierce Torrent with no Bounds they 're stay'd But vent their Rage on the defenceless Maid Not Vertue Youth nor Beauty in distress Can move their savage Breasts to tenderness But Death with horrid Torments they prepare And to her Fate th' undaunted Virgin bear Tortures and Death seem lovely in her Eyes Since she to Honour falls a Sacrifice Amidst her Sufferings still her Mind is great And free from guilt she triumphs o're her Fate But Heav'n that 's suff'ring Vertue 's sure Reward Exerts its Power and is it self her Guard Amalis conscious of his black Offence Now feels remorse for her wrong'd Innocence Tho' now he 's strugling in the pangs of death And all life 's purple Stream is ebbing forth Yet raising up his pale and drooping head He recollects his Spirits as they fled And with his last remains of Voice he said Spare the chast Maid your impious hands restrain Nor Beauty with such Insolence prophane Learn by my Fate wrong'd Innocence to spare Since injur'd Vertue 's Heav'ns peculiar Care But you brave Virgin now shall stand enrol'd Amongst the Noblest Heroines of old Thy fam'd Attempt and celebrated Hand Shall lasting Trophies of thy Glory stand And if my Verse the just Reward can give Thutilla's Name shall to new Ages live For to thy Sex thou hast new Honours won And France now boasts a Judith of its own An ODE FOR St. Cecilia's Day 1693. Written by Mr. THO. YALDEN. And Composed by Mr. Daniel Purcell 1. BEgin and strike th' harmonious Lyre Let the loud Instruments prepare To raise our Souls and charm the Ear With Joys which Musick only can inspire Hark how the willing Strings obey To consecrate this happy Day Sacred to Musick Love and blest Cecilia In lofty Numbers Tuneful Lays We 'll celebrate the Virgin 's Praise Her skilful Hand first taught our Strings to move To her this sacred Art we owe Who first anticipated Heav'n below And play'd the Hymns on Earth that she now sings Above 2 What moving Charms each Tuneful Voice contains Charms that thro' the willing ear A Tide of pleasing Raptures bear And with diffusive Joys run thrilling thro' our Veins The listning Soul does Sympathize And with each vary'd Noat complies While gay and sprightly Airs Delight Then free from Cares and unconfin'd It takes in pleasing Extacies its flight With mournful Sounds a sadder Garb it wears Indulges Grief and gives a loose to Tears 3 Musick 's the Language of the Blest above No Voice but Musick 's can express The Joys that happy Souls possess Nor in just Raptures tell the wond'rous Pow'r of Love 'T is Nature's Dialect design'd To charm and to instruct the Mind Musick 's an Universal Good That does dispence its joys around In all the Elegancy of Sound To be by Men admir'd by Angels understood 4 Let ev'ry restless Passion cease to move And each tumultuous thought obey The happy influence of this Day For Musick 's Unity and Love Musick 's the soft indulger of the mind The kind diverter of our care The surest Refuge mournful grief can find A Cordial to the Breast and Charm to ev'ry Ear. Thus when the Prophet struck his Tuneful Lyre Saul's evil Genius did retire In vain were Remedies apply'd In vain all other Arts were try'd His Hand and Voice alone the Charm cou'd find To heal his Body and compose his Mind 5 Now let the Trumpets louder Voice proclaim A solemn Jubile For ever Sacred let it be To Skilful Jubals and Cecilia's Name Great Jubal Author of our Lays Who first the hidden charms of Musick found And thro' their Airy Paths did trace The secret Springs of Sound When from his hollow chorded Shell The Soft melodious Accents fell With Wonder and Delight he play'd While the Harmoneous Strings his Skilful Hand obey'd 6 But fair Cecilia to a pitch Divine Improv'd her artful Lays When to the Organ she her Voice did Joyn In the Almighty's Praise Then Choirs of Listning Angels stood around Admir'd her Art and blest the Heav'nly Sound Her Praise alone no Tongue can reach But in the Strains her self did teach Then let the Voice and Lyre combine And in a Tuneful Consort joyn For Musick 's her Reward and Care Above sh' enjoys it and protects it here Grand Chorus Then kindly treat this happy Day And grateful Honours to Cecilia pay To her these lov'd harmonious Rites belong To her that Tunes our Strings and still Inspires our Song Thus may her Day for ever be Blest with Love and Harmony Blest as its great Saint appear Still may fair Cecilia's prove A Day of Harmony and Love T' attone for all the Discords of the Year A SONG FOR St. CECILIA'S Day At OXFORD By Mr. Jo. Addison 1 CEcilia who 's Exalted Hymns With joy and wonder fill the Blest In Quires of warbling Seraphims Known and distinguisht from the rest Attend Harmonious Saint and see Thy vocal Sons of Harmony Attend Harmonious Saint and hear our Pray'rs Enliven all our Earthy Airs And as thou Sing'st thy God teach us to Sing of Thee Tune ev'ry String and ev'ry Tongue Be thou the Muse and Subject of our Song 2. Let all Cecilia's Praise proclaim Employ the Eccho in her Name Hark how the Flutes and Trumpets raise At bright Cecilia's Name their Lays The Organ labours in her Praise Cecilia's Name does all our Numbers grace From ev'ry Voice the Tuneful Accents fly In soaring Trebles now it rises high And now it sinks and dwells upon the Bass. Cecilia's Name through all the Notes we Sing The work of ev'ry skilful Tongue The Sound of ev'ry trembling String The Sound and Triumph of our Song 3. For ever Consecrate the day To Musick and Cecilia Musick the greatest Good that Mortals know And all of Heav'n we have below Musick can noble hints impart Engender Fury kindle Love
For Brother was a Name Too cold and dull for her aspiring Flame And when he spoke if Sister he reply'd For Byblis change that frozen Word she cry'd Yet waking still she watch'd her strugling Breast And Love's Approaches were in vain address'd Till gentle Sleep an easy Conques made And in her Soft embrace the Conquerour was laid But oh too soon the pleasing Vision fled And left her Blushing on the conscious Bed Ah me she cry'd how monstrous do I seem Why these wild Thoughts and this incestuous Dream Envy her self 't is true must own his Charms But what is Beauty in a Sister's Arms Oh were I not that despicable she How Blest how Pleas'd how Happy shou'd I be But unregarded now must bear my Pain And but in Dreams my wishes can obtain O Sea-Born Goddess with thy wanton Boy Was ever such a charmiug Scene of Joy Such perfect Bliss such ravishing Delight Ne're hid before in the kind Shades of Night How pleas'd my Heart in what sweet Raptures tost Ev'n Life it self in the soft Combat lost While breathless he on my heav'd Bosom lay And snatch'd the Treasures of my Soul away If the bare Fancy so affects my Mind How shou'd I rave if to the Substance join'd Oh gentle Caunus quit thy hated Line Or let thy Parents be no longer mine Oh that in Common all things were injoy'd But those alone who have our hopes destroy'd Were I a Princess thou an Humble Swain The Proudest Kings shou'd Rival thee in vain It cannot be alas the dreadful Ill Is fix'd by Fate and he 's my Brother Still Hear me ye Gods I must have Friends in Heav'n For Jove himself was to a Sister giv'n But what are their Prerogatives above To the short Liberties of Humane Love Fantastick thoughts down down forbidden Fires Or instant Death extinguish my desires Strict Virtue then with thy malicious leave Without a Crime I may a Kiss receive But say shou'd I in spight of Laws comply Yet cruel Caunus might himself deny No Pity take of an afflicted Maid For Loves sweet Game must be by Couples play'd Yet why shou'd Youth and Charms like mine despair Such Fears ne're startled the Aeolian Pair No tyes of Blood could their full hopes destroy They broke through all for the prevaling Joy And who can tell but Caunus too may be Rack'd and Tormented in his Breast for me Likes me to the extreamest Anguish drove Like me just waking from a Dream of Love But stay Oh whither wou'd my Fury run What Arguments I urge to be undone Away fond Byblis quench these guilty Flames Caunus thy Love but as a Brother claims Yet had he first been touch'd with Love of me The charming Youth cou'd I despairing see Oppress'd with Grief and Dying by Disdain Ah no! too sure I shou'd have eas'd his pain Since then if Caunus ask'd me it were done Asking my self what dangers can I run But canst thou ask and see that right betray'd From Pyrrha down to thy whole Sex convey'd That self-denying Gift we all enjoy Of wishing to be won yet seeming to be coy Well then for once let a fond Mistress woe The force of Love no Custom can subdue This frantick Passion he by words shall know Soft as the melting Heart from whence they flow The Pencil then in her fair Hand she held By Fear discourag'd but by Love compell'd She Writes then Blots Writes on and Blots again Like it as fit then razes it as vain Shame and Assurance in her Face appear And a faint Hope just yielding to Despair Sister was Wrote and Blotted as a Word Which she and Caunus too she hop'd abhorr'd But now resolv'd to be no more controul'd By Scrupulous Virtue thus her Grief she told Thy Lover gentle Caunus wishes thee That health which thou alone canst give to me O charming Youth the Gift I ask bestow E're thou the Name of the fond Writer know To thee without a Name I would be known Since knowing that my Frailty I must own Yet why shou'd I my wretched Name conceal When thousand Instances my Flames reveal Wan Looks and weeping Eyes have spoke my Pain And Sighs discharg'd from my heav'd Heart in vain Had I not wish'd my Passion might be seen What cou'd such Fondness and Embraces mean Such Kisses too Oh heedless lovely Boy Without a Crime no Sister could Enjoy Yet tho' extreamest Rage has rack'd my Soul And raging Fires in my parch'd Bosom Roul Be Witness Gods how piously I strove To rid my Thoughts of this inchanting Love But who cou'd scape so fierce and sure a Dart Aim'd at a Tender and Defenceless Heart Alas what Maid cou'd suffer I have born E're the dire secret from my Breast was torn To thee a helpless vanquish'd Wretch I come 'T is you alone can save or give my Doom My Life or Death this Moment you may chuse Yet think Oh think no hated Stranger sues No Foe but one Alas too near ally'd And wishing still much nearer to be ty'd The Forms of Decency let Age debate And Virtues Rules by their Cold Morals state Their ebbing Joys give Leasure to inquire And blame those noble Flights our Youth inspire Where Nature kindly summons let us go Our sprightly Years no bounds in Love shou'd know Shou'd feel no check of Guilt and fear no Ill Lovers and Gods act all things at their Will We gain one Blessing from our hated Kin Since our Paternal Freedom hides the Sin Uncensur'd in each others Arms we lye Think then how easy to compleat our Joy Oh pardon and oblige a blushing Maid Whose Rage the pride of her vain Sex betray'd Nor let my Tomb thus mournfully complain Here Byblis lies by her lov'd Caunus Slain Forc'd here to end she with a falling Tear Temper'd the plyant Wax which did the Signet bear The curious Cypher was impress'd by Art But Love had stamp'd one deeper in her Heart Her Page a Youth of Confidence and Skill Secret as Night stood waiting on her Will Sighing she cry'd bear this thou faithful Boy To my sweet Part'ner in eternal Joy Here a long pause her secret Guilt confess'd And when at length she would have spoke the rest Half the dear Name lay buried in her Breast Thus as he listned to her vain Command Down fell the Letter from her trembling Hand The Omen Shock'd her Soul Yet go she cry'd Can a Request from Byblis be deny'd To the Maeandrian Youth 's this Message born The half-read Lines by his fierce Rage were torn Hence hence he cry'd thou Pandar to her Lust Bear hence the Triumph of thy Impious Trust Thy Instant Death will but divulge her Shame Or thy Life's Blood should quench the Guilty Flame Frighted from threatning Caunus he withdrew And with the dreadful News to his lost Mistress flew The sad Repulse so struck the Wounded Fair Her Sense was buried in her wild Despair Pale was her Visage as the Ghastly Dead And her scar'd Soul from the sweet Mansion fled Yet