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There beat her heart, and heav'd her breast,
And pleaded every sense;
And there the glowing breath of luft
Did blaft her innocence.

But when the fragrant beans began
Their fallow blooms to fhed,
Her fparkling eyes their luftre loft;
Her cheek its rofes fled:

And when the faw the pods increase,
The ruddier cherries stain,
She felt her filken robe grow tight,
Her waist new weight sustain.
And when the mowers went a-field,
The yellow corn to ted,

She felt her burden ftir within,

And fhook with tender dread.

And when the winds of autumn hifs'd
Along the ftubble field;

Then could the damfel's piteous plight
No longer be conceal'd.

Her fire, a harsh and angry man,

With furious voice revil'd:

"Hence from my fight! I'll none of thee→→

I harbour not thy child."

And fast amid her flutt'ring hair,

With clenched fift he gripes,

And feiz'd a leathern thong, and lafh'd

Her fide with founding stripes.

Her lily fkin, fo foft and white,

He ribb'd with bloody wales;

And thrust her out, though black the night,
Though fleet, and ftorm, affails.

Up the harsh rock, on flinty paths,
The maiden had to roam;
On tott'ring feet fhe grop'd her way,
And fought her lover's home.

"A mother thou haft made of me,
Before thou mad'st a wife;
For this, upon my tender breaft
Thefe livid ftripes are rife:

"Behold."-And then, with bitter fobs, She fank upon the floor

"Make good the evil thou haft wrought; "My injur❜d name restore."

"Poor foul; I'll have the hous'd and nurs'd:

Thy terrors I lament.

Stay here; we'll have fome further talk-
The old one shall repent.—”

"I have no time to rest and wait;
That faves not my good name:
If thou with honest soul haft fworn,
Oh, leave me not to shame;

But at the holy altar be
Our union fanctify'd;
Before the people and the priest
Receive me for thy bride!"
"Unequal matches must not blot
The honours of my line:
Art thou of wealth or rank for me,
To harbour thee as mine?

What's fit and fair I'll do for thee;
Shalt yet retain my love-

Shalt wed my huntsman-and we'll then
Our former transports prove.”

"Thy wicked foul, hard-hearted man,
May pangs in hell await!

Sure if not fuited for thy bride,
I was not for thy mate.

Go, feek a spouse of nobler blood,

Nor God's juft judgments dread-
So fhall, ere long, fome base-born wretch
Defile thy marriage bed.→→→

Then, traitor, feel how wretched they
In hopeless fhame immerst;
Then fmite thy forehead on the wall,
While horrid curfes burft.

Roll thy dry eyes in wild despair-
Unfooth'd thy grinning woe:
Through thy pale temples fire the ball,
And fink to fiends below."

Collected then, fhe ftarted up,

And through the hiffing fleet,

Through thorn and briar, through flood and mire, She fled with bleeding feet.

"Where now," fhe cry'd, " What refuge have I left?"

my gracious God!

And reach'd the garden of her home,
Of hope in man bereft.

On hand and foot the feebly crawl'd
Beneath the bow'r unbleft;

Where with'ring leaves and gath'ring fnow,
Prepar'd her only rest.

There rending pains and darting throes
Affail'd her thudd'ring frame;
And from her womb a lovely boy,
With wail and weeping came.

Forth from her hair a filver pin,
With hafty hand fhe drew,
And prefs'd against its tender heart,
And the fweet babe fhe flew.

Erft when the act of blood was done,
Her foul its guilt abhorr❜d:
"My Jefus! what has been my deed?
Have mercy on me, Lord!"

With bloody nails, befides the pond,
Its fhallow grave fhe tore :

"There reft in God; there fhame and want
Thou canst not suffer more:

Me vengeance waits. My poor, poor child,
Thy wound fhall bleed afresh,
When ravens from the gallows tear
Thy mother's mould'ring flesh.—”
Hard by the bow'r her gibbet ftands:
Her fkull is ftill to fhow;

It seems to eye the barren grave,
Three spans in length, below.

That is the spot where grows no grafs;
Where falls no rain nor dew:
Whence fteals along the pond of toads
A hov'ring fire fo blue.

And nightly, when the ravens come,
Her ghoft is feen to glide;
Pursues and tries to quench the flame,
And pines the pool befide.

ON HEALTH.

BY THOMSON.

H! what avail the largest gifts of Heav'n,

fpirits amifs?
How taftelefs then whatever can be giv'n!
Health is the vital principle of bliss,
And exercife of health. In proof of this,
Behold the wretch who flugs his life away;
Soon fwallow'd in difeafe's fad abyfs;

While he whom toil has brac'd, or manly play,

Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as day.

O! who can speak the vig'rous joys of health ?
Unclogg'd the body, unobfcur'd the mind:
The morning rifes gay; with pleafing ftealth,
The temp❜rate ev'ning falls ferene and kind.
In health the wiser brutes true gladness find.

See! how the younglings frisk along the meads,
As May comes on, and wakes the balmy wind!
Rampant with life, their joy all joy exceeds:
Yet what, but high-ftrung health, this dancing pleafance
breeds?

MORTALITY.

Slver fhade fpreads o'er the lively green;
WIFT o'er the high grafs fweeps the blast,

The gale is past,

No more the filver fhade is feen.
Saw ye the lightning flash along the fky?
Save yonder blasted oak,

A drear memorial of the with'ring ftroke,
It leaves no trace to guide the foll❜wing eye.

Children of men! and fuch your lot;

Ye live your little hour, and die and are forgot!

What, then, avail the jewell'd crown of Pow'r,
Pomp's ermin'd robe, or Glory's death-red fword?
What, then, the Wife one's dreams, the Mifer's hoard?
When Death proclaims th' irrevocable hour,

Life's vain diftinctions cease; th' eternal doom
Bids all the sons of clay be equal in the tomb.

What though Earth's millions the dark realms explore,
No cheering tidings reach mankind from thence,
For there the eye of Wisdom fees no more,

And filent is the tongue of Eloquence.

For no one of th' innumerable dead

Revifits men from that obscure abode;

For never spirit twice could tread
The dark, the dreadful road.

Why fleeps the poet-he whofe magic fong
Leads charmed Fancy thofe wild realms along,
Whofe fhadowy portals bear the ominous line,
Quit ev'ry hope, all ye who enter here!"
Why fleeps the bard divine,

Whofe fpirit" far beyond the vifible fphere,
"Soar'd on the feraph wings of Extasy ?"
Why fleeps the feer,

Who gave the laws of nature to our eye,
Fill'd with a portion of divinity?

For me, be mine, when Fate fhall free
This fpirit from mortality,
Catching Mem'ry's mellow'd figh,
Still o'er my wonted haunts to fly;
In gentle visions to defcend,
The guardian angel of my friend.
To cafe the laft long-ling ring breath,
Breathe joy prophetic in the hour of death,
Embrace, in air, the new-born fprite,
And guide it to the realms of light!

Enthusiast!—if thou canft-explore
The vale of life that lies before.
Dark is the vale of years,

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