There o'er some folio

pore; I pore 'tis true,

But oh my thoughts are fled, and fled to you!
I hear you, see you, feast upon your eyes,
And clasp with eager arms the lovely prize;
Here for a while I could forget my pain,
Whilst I by dear affliction live again:.
But ev'n these joys are too sublime to last,
And quickly fade, like all the real ones past;
For just when now beneath some silent grove
I hear you talk—and talk perhaps of love,
Or charm with thrilling notes the list'ning ear,
Sweeter than angels sing, or angels hear,
My treach❜rous hand its weighty charge lets go,
The book falls thund'ring on the floor below,
The pleasing vision in a moment's gone,
And I once more am wretched, and alone.

So when glad Orpheus from th' infernal shade Had just recall'd his long-lamented maid, Soon as her charms had reach'd his eager eyes, Lost in eternal night-again she dies.

HENRY AND EMMA.

[PRIOR.]

WHERE beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived;
Great gifts bestow'd, and great respect received.

When dreadful Edward with successful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war,
This lord had headed his appointed bands,
In firm allegiance to the king's commands;
And (all due honours faithfully discharged)
Had brought back his paternal coat, enlarged
With a new mark, the witness of his toil,
And no inglorious part of foreign spoil.

From the loud camp retired and noisy court, In honourable ease and rural sport

The remnant of his days he safely pass'd,

Nor found they lag'd too slow, nor flew too fast.
He made his wish with his estate comply,

Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

T

One child he had, a daughter chaste and fair,
His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir;
They call'd her Emma; for the beauteous dame,
Who gave the virgin birth, had borne the name:
The name th' indulgent father doubly loved,
For in the child the mother's charms improved :
Yet as when little round his knees she play'd,
He call'd her oft, in sport, his Nut-brown Maid.
The friends and tenants took the fondling word,
(As still they please, who imitate their lord)
Usage confirm'd what fancy had begun ;
The mutual terms around the lands were known;
And Emma and the Nut-brown Maid were one.

As with her stature still her charms increased; Thro' all the isle her beauty was confess'd. Oh! what perfections must that virgin share, Who fairest is esteem'd, where all are fair! From distant shires repair the noble youth, And find report, for once, had lessen'd truth. By wonder first, and then by passion moved, They came; they saw; they marvell'd; and they loved. By public praises, and by secret sighs,

Each own'd the gen'ral power of Emma's eyes.

In tilts and tournaments the valiant strove,

By glorious deeds to purchase Emma's love.

In gentle verse the witty told their flame,

And graced their choicest songs with Emma's name. In vain they combated, in vain they writ:

Useless their strength, and impotent their wit.

Great Venus only must direct the dart,

Which else will never reach the fair one's heart,
Spite of th' attempts of force, and soft effects of art.
Great Venus must prefer the happy one:

In Henry's cause her favour must be shewn :
And Emma, of mankind, must love but him alone.

While these in public to the castle came,
And by their grandeur justify'd their flame,
More secret ways the careful Henry takes ;
His squires, his arms, and equipage forsakes :
In borrow'd name and false attire array'd,
Oft he finds means to see the beauteous maid.

When Emma hunts, in huntsman's habit drest,
Henry on foot pursues the bounding beast;
In his right hand his beechen pole he bears,
And graceful at his side his horn he wears.
Still to the glade, where she has bent her way,
With knowing skill he drives the future prey;
Bids her decline the hill, and shun the brake,
And shews the path her steed may safest take;

Directs her spear to fix the glorious wound,

Pleased in his toils to have her triumph crown'd, And blows her praises with no common sound.

A falc❜ner Henry is when Emma hawks : With her of tarsels and of lures he talks. Upon his wrist the tow'ring Merlin stands, Practised to rise, and stoop, at her commands. And when superior now the bird has flown, And headlong brought the tumbling quarry down, With humble rev'rence he accosts the fair, And with the honour'd feather decks her hair. Yet still, as from the sportive field he goes, His downcast eye reveals his inward woes; And by his look and sorrow is exprest, A nobler game pursued than bird or beast.

A shepherd now along the plain he roves, And with his jolly pipe delights the groves. The neighb'ring swains around the stranger throng, Or to admire or emulate his

song:

While, with soft sorrow, he renews his lays,
Nor heedful of their envy, nor their praise.
But soon as Emma's eyes adorn the plain,
His notes he raises to a nobler strain;
With dutiful respect, and studious fear,
Lest any careless sound offend the ear.