My husband, fatally uniting, went;

Unus'd to arms, and thoughtless of th' event.

But when the battle was by treach❜ry won,

The chief, and all, but his false friend, undone ;
Though, in the tumult of that defp'rate night,
He 'fcap'd the dreadful flaughter of the fight,
Yet the fagacious blood-hounds, fkill'd too well
In all the murd'ring qualities of hell,
Each fecret place fo regularly beat,
They foon discover'd his unsafe retreat.
As hungry wolves triumphing o'er their prey,
To fure destruction hurry them away;
So the purveyors of fierce Moloc's fon
With Charion to the common butch'ry run;
Where proud Neronior by his gibbet ftood,
To glut himself with fresh fupplies of blood.
Our friends, by pow'rful interceffion, gain'd
A short reprieve, but for three days obtain❜d,
To try all ways might to compaffion move
The favage general; but in vain they strove,
When I perceiv'd that all addreffes fail'd,
And nothing o'er his ftubborn foul prevail'd,
Distracted almost, to his tent I flew,

To make the laft effort, what tears could do,
Low on my knees I fell; then thus began:

• Great genius of fuccefs, thou more than man!
• Whose arms to ev'ry clime have terror hurl'd,
⚫ And carried conquest round the trembling world!
Still may the brigi,teft glories Fame can lend,

• Your fword, your conduct, and your cause, attend.
Here now the arbiter of fate you fit,

• While fuppliant slaves their rebel heads fubmit.
Oh, pity the unfortunate! and give

But this one thing: oh, let but Charion live!
And take the little all that we poffefs.

I'll bear the meagre anguish of diftrefs

• Content;

Content; nay, pleas'd, to beg or earn my bread :
Let Charion live, no matter how I'm fed.

The fall of fuch a youth no luftre brings'

To him whofe fword performs fuch wond'rous things
As faving kingdoms, and supporting kings.
That triumph only with true grandeur fhines,
Where godlike courage, godlike pity joins.
Cæfar, the eldest fav'rite of war,

• Took not more pleasure to submit, than fpare:
• And fince in battle you can greater be,
That over, be n't lefs merciful than he.
Ignoble fpirits by revenge are known,

And cruel actions spoil the conqu❜ror's crown?
In future hiftories fill each mournful page
• With tales of blood, and monuments of rage:
And, while his annals are with horror read,
• Men curse him living, and deteft him dead.
Oh! do not fully with a fanguine dye
(The fouleft ftain) fo fair a memory!
• Then, as you'll live the glory of our isle,
• And Fate on all your expeditions smile ;

So, when a noble course you've bravely ran,
Die the best foldier, and the happiest man.
None can the turns of Providence foresee,
. Or what their own catastrophe may be; i
Therefore, to perfons labouring under woe,
That mercy they may want, fhould always fhew:
For, in the chance of war the flightest thing

May lose the battle, or the vict'ry brag.

And how would you that gen'ral's honour prize,

• Should in cool blood his captive facrifice ?

• He that with rebel arms to fight is led,

To justice forfeits his opprobrious head:

But 'tis unhappy Charion's firft offence,
Seduc'd by fome too plaufible pretence,

}

• Το

To take the injuring fide by error brought;

He had no malice, though he has the fault. • Let the old tempters find a fhameful grave,

But the half-innocent, the tempted, fave;

Vengeance divine, though for the greatest crime,
But rarely ftrikes the firft or second time:
And he best follows th' Almighty's will,
Who fpares the guilty he has pow'r to kill.
• When proud rebellions would unhinge a state,
And wild disorders in a land create,

• 'Tis requifite the first promoters should

Put out the flames they kindled with their blood:
But fure 'tis a degree of murder, all

That draw their fwords fhould, undistinguish'd, fall.
And fince thy mercy muft to fome be shewn,
Let Charion, 'mongst the happy few, be one:
For as none guilty has lefs guilt than he,
So none for pardon has a fairer plea.

• When David's general had won the field,
And Abfalom, the lov'd ungrateful, kill'd,
The trumpets founding made all flaughter cease,
• And misled Ifraelites return'd in peace:

The action past, where so much blood was spilt, We hear of none arraign'd for that day's guilt; • But all concludes with the defir'd event, The monarch pardons, and the Jews repent. < As great example your great courage warms, And to illuftrious deeds excites your arms;

• So when you inftances of mercy view,

They should infpire you with compaffion too:

For he that emulates the truly brave,

Would always conquer, and fhould always fave.'
Here, interrupting, ftern Neronior cried,

(Swell'd with fuccefs, and blubber'd up with pride)
Madam, his life depends upon my will,

For ev'ry rebel I can spare or kill.

• I'll

I'll think of what you've faid: this night return

At ten, perhaps you'll have no cause to mourn.

Go, fee your husband, bid him not despair ;

• His crime is great-but you are wond'rous fair,'

When anxious miferies the foul amaze,

And dire confufion in the spirits raise,
Upon the leaft appearance of relief,
Our hopes revive, and mitigate our grief;
Impatience makes our wishes earnest grow,
Which through falfe opticks our deliverance shew,
For while we fancy danger does appear
Moft at a distance, it is oft too near,

And many times, fecure from obvious foes,
We fall into an ambuscade of woes,

Pleas'd with the falfe Neronior's dark reply,
I thought the end of all my forrows nigh,
And to the main-guard haften'd, where the prey
Of this blood-thirsty fiend in durance lay.
When Charion faw me, from his turfy bed
With eagerness he rais'd his drooping head.
Oh! fly, my dear, this guilty place,' he cry'd,
And in fome diftant clime thy virtue hide!
Here nothing but the fouleft dæmons dwell,
The refuge of the damn'd, and mob of hell.
The air they breathe is ev'ry atom curs'd;
There's no degree of ills, for all are worst:

In rapes and murders they alone delight,

And villainies of lefs importance flight;

A&t them indeed, but fcorn they should be nam'd,
For all their glory's to be more than damn'd.

• Neronior's chief of this infernal crew,
And feems to merit that high station too :
Nothing but rage and luft inspire his breast,
By Afmodai and Moloc both poffefs'd;
• When told you went to intercede for me,
It threw my foul into an agony,

Not

*Not that I would not for my freedom give What's requifite, or do not wish to live; But for my fafety I can ne'er be base,

Or buy a few short years with long difgrace: • Nor would I have your yet unfpotted fame < For me expos'd to an eternal fhame.

With ignominy to preferve my breath,

Is worse, by infinite degrees, than death.
• But if I can't my life with honour fave,
. With honour I'll defcend into the grave.
• For though revenge and malice both combine
⚫ (As both to fix my ruin seem to join)

Yet, maugre all their violence and skill,
I can die juft, and I'm refolv'd I will.

But what is death we fo unwifely fear?
• An end of all our busy tumults here:
The equal lot of poverty and ftate,
• Which all partake of by a certain fate.
• Whoe'er the prospect of mankind surveys,
At divers ages, and by divers ways,

• Will find them from this noisy scene retire :
Some the first minute that they breathe, expire ;
Others, perhaps, furvive to talk, and go;
But die, before they good or evil know.
• Here one to puberty arrives; and then
• Returns, lamented, to the duft again:

Another there maintains a longer ftrife • With all the pow'rful enemies of life;

• Till, with vexation tir'd, and threescore years,
He drops into the dark, and disappears.
I'm young indeed, and might expect to fee
Times future, long and late pofterity,
'Tis what with reafon I could wish to do,
If to be old, were to be happy too.

• But fince fubftantial grief so foon destroys
The guft of all imaginary joys,

• Whe