Nor can he learn, without a secret pride,
To what rare use his favours are apply'd;
Freely he gave, nor I his bounty spare,
Which here return'd his foremost champion's share:
Yet, tell him, yet I languish for that day,
When hand to hand I shall in person pay."

He spoke, when hundreds on the boaster press'd,
And lanch'd a mingling tempest at his breast;
But prudence timely prompted to evade,
And the tall towers held forth their friendly shade.
Now shower'd tempest'ous from the embattled
wall,

Stones, darts, and flints, and engin'd quarries fall;
Wing'd from the nerve of many a bending bow,
Death points a cloud, and rains the storm below;
The Christian pow'rs receding seek the plain,
And their wide gates the cover'd Pagans gain.
When disencumber'd now Rinaldo rose,
To vengeance loos'd he pour'd upon his foes;
For Dudon's 'fate had reach'd the warrior's ear,
And gave a fury which e'en friends might fear.
"On, on!" he cried, "why, wherefore stop? O,

shame!

Your arms, revenge, revenge and Dudon claim.
In vain their ramparts veil yon trembling rout,
Walls rise in vain to keep the valiant out;
Though fenc'd with adamant, or towers of steel,
Argantes should my ent`ring vengeance feel.”
He said, and forward on the ramparts sprung;
A storm of darts around his temples sung :
Yet he gave all his dauntless front to view;
Een danger aw'd before his eyes withdrew;
The towers appear'd to totter at the sight,
And quailing thousands trembled from their height.
But Sigiere now by royal Godfrey sent,
(Sage herald) bade the rage of war relent:
"Retire, retire, nor vainly hope," he cried,
"That one day's arm shall Salem's fate decide:
Steep are her towers, and boldly mann'd her walls;
And dire must be the shock by which she falls."
They staid reluctant-As the fiery steed
Rein'd in his pride and lorded in his speed,
So far'd Rinaldo's fury, scarce repress'd;
And still the battle struggled in his breast.
Meantime, with dust deform'd and stain'd with
Brave Dudon from the fated field they bore;
The soldiers press to touch his great remains,
And round his corse the copious sorrow rains.
But Bulloign, from a summit's neighb`ring height,
Survey'd fair Solyma's imperial site;

[gore,

Her pow'rs, her force, and her defects he scann'd,
And the deep schemes of future conquest plann'd.
High eminent amid the circling lands,
Fair Solyma in ancient glory stands :
Rear'd on two hills her regal spires arise;
Between a vale in rich expansion lies:
From three proud sides she overlooks her foe,
And smiles, impervious, on the war below;
But, weak by nature on the northern part,
She stoops to arm her in the strength of art.
The frugal trough and cistern's vase retain
Her wat'ry stores of Heav'n-descending rain;
Around her walls no lively verdures grow;
Few founts to slake the sultry region flow;
No grove extends its hospitable shade
To the tir'd pilgrim, or the fev'rish glade,
Save where, two leagues divided from the town,
A baleful forest rears its umbrage brown,
Whose silent shades in antique horrours rise,
Brood o'er the soil, and intercept the skies.

Clear to the dawning of th' eastern beam, The hallow'd Jordan pours a plent'ous stream; A sanded billow bounds the western side, And rolls alternate on the midland tide; Samaria stretch'd upon the north expands, Where Bethel in opprobrious prospect stands; But Bethlem, Israel's gem and Judah's boast, Rears to the south, and consecrates the coast.

While Bulloign thus surveys the hostile ground, And sends his eye in large experience round, Metes the proud height of Sion's tower'd wall, Marks her defects, and meditates her fall; Erminia intermitted silence breaks, And thus observant of the hero speaks.

"Behold, O king, in regal purple dress'd, Strength in his arm, and wisdom in his breast, Behold where Godfrey takes his awful stand, All form'd for fame, to act as to command! In him the hero and the sage unite, The clue of conduct, and the force of fight: Raimond alone, of yon unnumber'd hosts, A rival in the nightly council boasts; Alike young Tancred's and Rinaldo's charms, Their flame of courage, and their force of arms!" "I know," the monarch with a sigh replied, "I know him well, and saw his prowess tried. When I the seals of Egypt's sultan bore, And trod a friend upou the Gallic shore, A stripling in the lists, he struck my eyes, And matchless bore from ev'ry arm the prize; Then, ere his spring of bearded down began, In ev'ry excellence a more than man: Too sure presages of impending woe

To such, whom fate should mark for Bulloign's foe! "But say, what 's he, whose scarf with Tyrian

pride

Flows o'er his arms, and glows at Godfrey's side?
Though Godfrey treads superior to the sight,
In mien and majesty they both unite."

I see, 't is Baldwin," cried the princely dame,
"His brother, less in features than in fame."

"But mark, intently turn'd how Godfrey hears, While Raimond speaks the judgment of his years, Whose hostile hairs bring terrours to my sight, Grown sage in war, and in experience white; Beyond ten thousand hands that head alarms, The ward and leading wisdom of their arms. "There William, England's younger hope, behold,

His figur'd buckler, and his casque of gold!
Guelfo the next, whose thirst of glory springs
From a long race of heroes and of kings;
I know him well, amid a host express'd,
By his square shoulders and his ample chest.
But ah! in vain I send my eyes about,
To find my foe, the cruel Boemond, out;
The dire usurper, whose relentless hand
Slew my great sire, and seiz'd my native land!"
Thus while they spoke observant of the foe,
The duke descends, and joins his host below:
For now resolv'd, and hopeless to prevail
Where Salem's eminence o'erlook'd the vale,
Incumbent on the opener north he lay,
Spread out his camp, and made his engines play,
Where ev'ry rampart shook beneath his power,
From the far portal to the utmost tower-
In compass near a third; for such the space
That circles Sion in a wide embrace;

Not with thin ensigns length'ning tow'rd the mound,
Could Godfrey's army hem the wondrous round:

Yet ev'ry lane and ev'ry pass he barr'd,
And fix'd the frequent terrours of a guard;
Around his camp the spacious lines he drew,
And broad and deep his guardian trenches threw,
To shield his legions from untimely fight,
And ev'ry dark hostility of night.

These orders given, the gen'ral held his way
Where Dudon, much lamented hero, lay:
High on a bier, with warlike honours grac'd,
In woeful pomp the great remains were plac'd;
Snapp'd arms and sable ensigns spread the ground,
And mingling princes pour'd their griefs around.

At Bulloign's sight, the sadly silent crowd, Renew'd in rising sorrows, wept aloud; But he, with majesty that bore the show Of dirge in triumph, or of cheer in woe, Approaching, touch'd the bier, repress'd his grief; And thus pathetic spoke the mourning chief.

"Hail, Dudon! hail to thy eternal birth, Reviv'd in Heav'n from all thy toils on Earth! Nor yet shall Heav'n the total hero claim, Still found on Earth, immortal in his fame! In life, my friend, in death thou didst excel; Valiant you fought, and valiantly you fell! Clos'd is thy warfare, finish'd is thy fight, And stars of living glory crown thy might! Not, not for thee, this sable cloud of woe; But for ourselves our juster sorrows flow: Our arm of war 's unnerv'd upon thy bier, And broke with thine is ev'ry pointless spear; Despoil'd of thee, thou chiefest earthly aid, Our banners droop, and all our laurels fade! Yet the great cause that might inform the dead, The cause survives, for which thy bosom bled; Survives to warm thee with its wonted charms, And wing thy soul asisstant to our arms, When in the powers of heavenly mission bright, Once more thou shalt descend to rule the fight, In terrours wrapp'd to thunder on the foe, To lay the pride of all oppressors low, To raze the height of yon embattled wall, And lift thy friends victorious from thy fall!" "He said and now the slumb'rous dew of night Mix'd with the shade, and sunk upon the sight; O'er care-swoln lids effus'd the balm of sleep, And clos'd those eyes that daily learn'd to weep.. But Bulloign on his pensive pillow lay, Revolv'd through ev'ry labour of the day, While forming in his wakeful round of thought Machines arose, and novel combats fought.

The bright-ey'd morn from early vapour won, Saw Godfrey arm'd, and orient with the Sun; At Dudon's hearse, the friendly melting chief Pour'd the last tribute of attending grief. Him a long train of fun'ral pomp convey'd, And low in earth the warrior's corse they laid, Where a tall palm its branching honours spread, Wove in the wind, and worship'd o'er the dead; His dust the priestly consecration bless'd, And sung the great departed soul to rest.

High o'er his tomb, amid the branches strung, Ensigns, and arms, and blazon'd trophies hung; The pride and spoils of many a valiant knight, Seiz'd by the victor in his days of fight. Full on the trunk his proper arms were plac'd, His plumy helm the joining corslet grac'd; And thus the marble bore his sacred name"Here Dudon lies-yet fills the world with fame." The last sad rites of social woes express'd, And Dudon left to his eternal rest,

The chief of chiefs, on public cares intent,
A convoy to the secret forest sent,
Where silent grew its unfrequented shade,
Now by a Syrian to the duke betray'd,
Who meditates from hence on Sion's fall,
And plans machines the rivals of her wall.

The woodmen now dispose their ranging bands,
Th' alternate axe high brandish'd in their hands;
Unwonted noise the affrighted forest fills,
And echo sighs from all the circling hills.
Beneath their strokes the victor palms subside;
Down falls the pine from its aerial pride;
Still breathes the cedar o'er a length of ground;
The firs in weeping amber mourn around;
Fell'd with her elm the viny consort lies,
And faithful o'er the folded trunk she dies.

The poplar, beech, and alder's watry shade, Sink on the marsh, or wither o'er the glade: Imperial oaks, that, through ten ages past, Had brav'd Heaven's bolt and rough encount'ring The period now of mortal glory feel, [blast, And fall subdu'd beneath the conq'ring steel: Th' exil'd pard abjures his wonted den, And ev'ry feather flies the voice of men : Wide lie the realms of long usurping night, And scenes unfold that never saw the light!

HENCE Want, ungrateful visitant, adieu !

Pale empress hence, with all thy meager crew-
Sour Discontent and mortified Chagrin,
Lean hollow Care, and self-corroding Spleen;
Distress and Woe, sad parents of Despair,
With wringing hands, and ever rueful air;
The tread of Dun, and Bum's alarming hand,
Dire as the touch of Circe's circling wand;
Keen Hunger, with his sharp but famish'd eye,
And dusky Theft, a desp'rate prompter nigh;
While agues shudder to the whistling gale,
And jointly Law and Infamy assail!
But worse, O worse, than all the hideous train,
Hot-mouth'd Reproach, and saucy writh'd Disdain!
These in the rear of thy assembly wait;
Still point th' anguish and augment the weight.

The worst oppression, who, ah! who could bear, If Virtue, hov'ring angel, was not there?

THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.

O SCATHFUL harm, condition of poverte,
With thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded,
To asken helpe thee shameth in thin herte,
If thou non ask, so sore art thou ywounded,
That veray nede unwrappeth al thy wound hid.

Where Poverty her blasting progress bends,
The goddess with superior wing attends:
Around the fair her bless'd associates play,
Bask in her eye, and whiten in her ray-
Bright Purity, with firm unalter'd cheek,
The mild, the kind, the gentle, and the meek;
Humility's benignly placid grace,
And Innocence with sweet seraphic face;
Calm Piety that smiles amidst the storm,
And Charity with boundless wishes warm.

Bold in the front, to guard the heavenly band,
Behold the masculine adherents stand!
Patience, with Atlantean shoulders spread;
Hail Temperance, on thrifty viands fed;
Firm Fortitude, unknowing how to yield;
And Perseverance with his batter'd shield;
And honest Industry, whose early toil
Wins health and plenty from the labour'd soil.
The genuine arts behind the goddess wait,
Her reign illustrate, and improve her state;
With eye elate here Contemplation soars,
And Learning piles his intellectual stores;
Here mental sciences arranging shine;
Here manua crafts the various task design;
While Diligence the busy finger plies,
And wing'd, from rank to rank, Invention flies.
Such wide extremes on Indigence attend!
There Vice assails, the Virtues here defend:
Below, the gloom of ev'ry passion storms;
Above, calm Virtue mod'rates and reforms;
Here, highly elevate; there, deep depress;
And give, or bliss, or anguish, in excess.

Hail Virtue! chaste eternal beauty, hail! Still on the foe, O goddess, still prevail ! The world, ere fram'd, lay open to thy view; You form'd the whole, and shall again renew! Ere I thy arduous pleasing toils decline, Be want, ab, still be each disaster mine; Till e'en oppression be itself subdu'd, Nor yet a wish for wealth or power intrude! Nor be the poor alone thy fav'rite care; Fly, fly to courts, and let the mighty share! The silken lethargy at once awake; Debauch from his intemp'rate opiate shake; Thence ev'ry vice and ev'ry folly drive, That sting or glitter round the gorgeous hive., Before thy touch let insolence retire, And vanity, an empty breath, expire; Hypocrisy cast off the fair disguise, And starting in his native gloom arise.

Maugre thin bed thou must for indigence
Or stele, or begge, or borwe thy dispence.

Thou blamest Crist, and sayst ful bitterly,
He misdeparteth richesse temporal;
Thy neighebour thou witest sinfully,
And sayst, thou hast to litel, and he hath all:
Parfay (sayst thou) somtime he reken shall,
Whan that his tayl shall brennen in the glede,
For he nought helpeth needful in hir nede.

Herken what is the sentence of the wise,
Bet is to dien than have indigence.
Thy selve neighebour wol thee despise,
If thou be poure, farewel thy reverence.
Yet of the wise man take this sentence,
Alle the dayes of poure men ben wicke,
Beware therfore or thou come to that pricke.

Now, goddess, ent'ring, view the dome of state!
Do thou inform, and give me to relate;
Let demons obvious to my eye appear,
(Which known, could sure find no admittance here.)
Amid the buzzing, busy, idle crowd,

The mix'd assembly of the mean and proud,
See, Treason smiles, a suitor to his king,
See, Promise flutters on a cypress wing;
Her pinion like autumnal foliage falls,
And on the pavement Disappointment crawls.
A friendly aspect Enmity assumes;
Beneath applause, deep lurking Envy glooms;
The tempting mammon Subornation shows;
And in the patriot's zeal Dissention glows.

Oppression there with gently winning grace,
And Ignorance with solemn thinking face,
And Pride with mortify'd and Christian guise,
And Infidelity with saintly eyes,

Four rival candidates, their monarch sue;
Two for the bench, and for the mitre two.

Lo, there Ambition, from his height elate!
And Pleasure lolling on a couch of state!
On these the pageantry of pomp attends;
To these th' idolizing tumult bends;
The poor, the rich, the peasant, and the peer,
And all religions, join in worship here.
Ambition, reaching from his airy stand,
Grasps at a globe that shuns his desp'rate hand:
Around the glitt'ring sphere, confusedly gay,
Crowns, truncheons, gems, and trophy'd radiance

lay,

But changing with alternate light and shade,
The lures appear, and vanish, shine, and fade;
Vain as the cloudy meteor of the morn,
Which fancy forms, and transient rays adorn.

The prime rewards four suppliant sons of fame,
Lust, Rapine, Violence, and Slaughter, claim;
And though essential happiness is due,
For toys the wise, for toys the virtuous sue.
Deluded men the ready ambush fly!
Dire lurking deaths behind ambition lie-
The mourning block, keen axe, and racking wheel,
The poison'd goblet, and the bosom'd steel!

Here Pleasure on her velvet couch reclines, Smiles to undo, and in destruction shines; With seeming negligence displays her charms; The strong she withers, and the steel'd disarms. Imagination, specious handmaid, waits, And serves a pomp of visionary cates: The sorceress still essays the fresh repasts; But mock'd eternally, she feeds, and fasts. Around her couch unnumber'd votaries meet, And wish to share th' imaginary treat;

If thou be poure, thy brother hateth thee,
And all thy frendes fleen fro thee, alas!
O riche marchants, ful of wele ben ye,
O noble, O prudent folk, as in this cas,
Your bagges ben not filled with ambes as,
But with sis cink, that renneth for your chance;
At Christenmasse mery may ye dance.

Ye seken lond and see for your winninges,
As wise folk ye knowen all th' estat
Of regnes, ye ben fathers of tidinges,
And tales, both of pees and of debat: "
I were right now of tales desolat,
N'ere that a marchant, gon is many a yere,
Me taught a tale, which that ye shull here.

Devour each morsel with desiring eye,
And for large draughts of fancy'd nectar sigh:
A thousand nymphs of wanton sprightly mien,
Trip round the sofa, and amuse their queen;
With transport she surveys the darling train,
All daughters of her light fermenting brain:
Here laughter, mirth, and dalliance unite,
Illusive joy, and volatile delight,
Conceits, sports, gambols, titillations gay,
Hopes that allure, and projects that betray.
Prime sister of th' inessential bands,
Erect, persuasive Expectation stands;
On each pursuit she flourishes with grace,
And gives a butterfly to lead the chase;
Or wafts a bubble on the parting gale,
And bids surrounding multitudes assail;
With sweets the fond pursuit alone is fraught,
The game still vanishes, when once it 's caught;
Vain is the joy-but not the anguish vain;
And empty pleasure gives essential pain:
Couch'd as a tiger, watchful to surprise,
Grim death beneath the false enchantress lies;
The fiends around invisibly engage,
Guilt stings, pains rack, and disappointments rage;
Aches, asthmas, cholics, gouts, convulsions, rheums,
Remorse that gnaws, and languor that consumes.

Far other train, apparent queen! you lead;
True bliss attends, though arduous toils precede:
Serene thy bosom, though thy brow severe;
Pain points thy path, but Heav'n is in thy rear.
Wondrous th' influence thy power supplies,
Where triumphs only from oppression rise;
Peace springs from passion, and from weakness
might;

Calm ease from travel, and from pain delight;
No sweets that vanish, and no gusts that cloy-
Clear is the rapture, and serene the joy;
Reflection culls from ev'ry labour past,
And gives the same eternal bliss to last.
Thus, by long trial, and severe distress,
You, Virtue truly, though severely, bless;
Through each tradition, each recorded page,
Through ev'ry nation, and through ev'ry age,
From purpled monarchs to the rural hind,
By pain you purify'd, by toil refin'd :
The mightier weight thy fav'rite heroes bore;
Chief you depress'd, whom chief you meant should
Still with the foe gave forces to prevail, [soar;
And with this moral form'd the following tale.
While yet the Turk his early claim avow'd,
And rul'd beneath the sceptre, Judah bow'd;
A set of worthy wealthy merchants chose
The world for trade, and Sion for repose.
Here they select the gems of brightest rays,
Rich stuffs, wrought silks, and golden tissues blaze;
Through ev'ry climate, and to ev'ry gale,
They lanch the cargo, and expand the sail:
Wide, with their name, their reputation grew,
And to their mart concurring chapmen drew..
The lure of novelty, and thirst of gain,
Now points their passage o'er the midland main;

In Surrie whilom dwelt a campagnie
Of chapmen rich, and therto sad and trewe,
That wide where senten hir spicerie,
Clothes of gold, and satins riche of hewe.
Hir chaffare was so thrifty and so newe,
That every wight hath deintee to chaffare
With hem, and eke to sellen hem hir ware.

The Tiber now their spumy keels divide,
And stem the flow of his descending tide.
To Rome, imperial Rome, the traders came;
Rome heard the voice of their preceding fame :
Free mart and splendid mansion she affords ;
Joy crown'd their nights, and elegance their boards.
With mutual chat they gratify desire,

What's curious now relate, and now inquire;
Alike for knowledge and for wealth they trade,
And are with usury in both repaid.

But Fame surpris'd them with a wonder new,
Beyond what times of brightest record drew,
The poet's fancy, or the lover's tongue;
And thus the darling excellence she sung.

"To crown our monarch's age with fond delight,
His cares alleviate, and his toils requite,
Beyond whate'er paternal wish could crave,
Indulgent Heav'n a peerless infant gave:
The softer sex her beauteous body forms,
But her bright soul each manly virtue warms;
Youth without folly, greatness without pride,
And all that 's firm to all that 's sweet ally'd.
Rich as the land by sacred promise bless'd,
Lies the fair vale of her expanded breast;
Mild on a parian pillar turns her head,
Her front, like Lebanon, divinely spread;
There sit the chaste, the placid, and the meek,
And morn smiles fresh upon her open cheek.
Babes learn distinction at Constantia's sight,
And wither'd age revives to strange delight;
Tumult'ous wishes breathe along her way,
Hands rise, tongues bless, and cent'ring eyes survey;
All run to bend the voluntary knee,

The blind to hear her, and the deaf to see.
Ah! were she born to universal sway,
How gladly would the willing world obey?

Now fell it, that the maisters of that sort
Han shapen hem to Rome for to wende,
Were it for chapmanhood or for disport,
Non other message wold they thider sende,
But comen hemself to Rome, this is the ende:
And in swiche place as thought hem avantage
For hir entente, they taken hir herbergage,

Sojourn'd han these marchants in that toun
A certain time, as fell to hir plesance :
And so befell, that the excellent renoun
Of the emperoure's doughter dame Custance
Reported was, with evrey circumstance,
Unto these Surrien marchants, in swiche wise
Fro day to day, as I shal you devise.
This was the commun vois of every man:
"Our emperour of Rome, God him se,
A doughter hath, that sin the world began,
To reken as wel hire goodnesse as beaute,
N'as never swiche another as is she:

I pray to God in honour hire sustene,
And wold she were of all Europe the quene.

"In hire is high beaute withouten pride,
Youthe, withouten grenehed or folie:
To all hire werkes vertue is hire guide;
Humblesse hath slaien in hire tyrannie:
She is mirrour of all curtesie,

Hire herte is veray chambre of holinesse,
Hire hond ministre of fredom for almesse."

And now with wealthy manufacture stow'd, Lanch'd on the tide their freighted vessels rode; The pendants vainly point the fav'ring gale, Court the weigh'd anchor, and th' opening sail, -Till first the fair perfection they beheld, Who all report, in fatal hour, excell'd: For Syria then they ply the lab'ring oar, And the crook'd keels divide their native shore. Exulting now they touch the fav'rite land, Unlade, and moor along the yielding strand. Now duteous, on their youthful sultan wait, Unfold new treasures, and new tales relate. With usual grace, and curious ear he hears; With usual courtesy and bounty cheers; The strange, the wondrous narrative admires, And all that 's foreign, all that 's new requires.

Ah, hapless prince, thy further search restrain; Couch'd in the tale, death lurks to entertain! Constantia's charms their raptur'd tongues disclose; In ev'ry word some kindling beauty glows; Her form, her features, mien, and soul they breathe, Unpraise all praise, and leave all terms beneath.

Strong eloquence can picture to the blind, Create new forms, and people all the mind; Can pain or mitigate, can heal or wound, Enchant with sentences, and kill with sound. The fancy'd sweets his ear impatient drinks; Deep on his soul the imag'd beauty sinks; [reigns, Through all his thoughts, his powers, she lives, she Pants in each pulse, and thrills along his veins.

Sure, through the tracts of yon celestial maze, Where mystic planets dance, and glories blaze;

And al this vois was soth, as God is trewe,
But now to purpos let us turn agein.
These marchants han don fraught hir shippes newe,
And whan they han this blisful maiden sein,
Home to Surrie ben they went ful fayn,
And don hir nedes, as they han don yore,
And liven in wele, I can say you no more.

Now fell it, that these marchants stood in grace
Of him that was the soudan of Surrie:
For whan they came from any strange place
He wold of his benigne curtesie
Make hem good chere, and besily espie
Tidings of sundry regnes, for to lere
The wonders that they mighte seen or here.

Amonges other thinges especially

These marchants han him told of dame Custance
So gret noblesse, in ernest seriously,

That this Soudan hath caught so gret plesance
To han hire figure in his remembrance,
That all his lust, and all his besy cure
Was for to love hire, while his lif may dure.
Paraventure in thilke large book,

Which that men clepe the Heven, ywriten was
With sterres, whan that he his birthe took,
That he for love shuld han his deth, alas!
For in the sterres, clerer than is glas,
Is writen, God wot, who so coud it rede,
The deth of every man withouten drede.
In sterres many a winter therbeforn
Was writ the deth of Hector, Achilles,
Of Pompey, Julius, or they were born;
The strif of Thebes; and of Hercules,
Of Sampson, Turnus, and of Socrates
VOL. XVII.

More wonders typical impress the sky,
Than e'er was trac'd with astrologic eye!
There haply, ere his natal hour express'd,
First burn'd the flame that glow'd within his breast:
There might the nymph with previous beauty bloom,
With previous languishment the youth consume;
Expire the victim of successless care;

Die ere he liv'd, and ere he lov'd despair.
There the dear friendly stream, ere Julius bled,
Great Brutus to his dearer country shed;
With destin'd tyranny there pride enslaves,
With destin'd virtue there the patriot saves;
There Pompey glow'd for freedom and for fame,
There Socrates, of Greece the pride and shame:
Alcides there each horrid monster slew;
There triumph'd Sampson, the heroic Jew;
There all, or doom'd to save, or to destroy,
The chiefs who fought at Thebes, or fought at Troy !
Long mourn'd the youth, with secret woe op-
press'd;

The latent vulture prey'd within his breast:
Constrain'd at length, nor able to sustain
The wasting malady, and mental pain;
The sage the bearded pillars of his state
He calls, and privily unfolds his fate:
"No mean," he cries, "my cruel stars assign;
Swift death, or else Constantia must be mine!"

Alternate, each their hopes or fears disclose,
Invent, reject, and now again propose;
While some, with mystic rites of wondrous art,
Engage to gain the sympathetic heart;
By philter'd science, and infernal charms,
To win the bright perfection to his arms:
Th' abhorrent scheme his gen'rous thoughts disdain,
Resolv'd to die, or justly to obtain;

And all their arguments, howe'er renew'd,
In rites of nuptial sanctitude conclude.
But here again new obstacles appear'd,
And much for this their latest hope they fear'd;
Fear'd that diversity of faith might prove
Alike diversity, and breach in love;
Nor the fair Christian e'er consent to wed
A prince in Macon's sacred precepts bred.

The deth; but mennes wittes ben so dull, That no wight can wel rede it at the full.

This Soudan for his prive councel sent,
And shortly of this matere for to pace,
He hath to hem declared his entent,
And sayd hem certain, but he might have grace
To han Custance, within a litel space,
He n'as but ded, and charged him in hie
To shapen for his lif some remedie.

Diverse men, diverse thinges saiden; They argumentes casten up and doun; Many a subtil reson forth they laiden; They speken of magike, and abusion; But finally, as in conclusion,

They cannot seen in that non avantage, Ne in non other way, save mariage.

Than saw they therin swiche difficultee
By way of reson, for to speke all plain,
Because ther was swiche diversitee
Betwene hir bothe lawes, that they sayn,
They trowen that no Cristen prince wold fayn

Ce