That beauteous Emma vagrant courses took ;
Her father's house and civil life forsook ;

That, full of youthful blood, and fond of man,
She to the wood-land with an exile ran.

Reflect, that lessen'd fame is ne'er regain'd,
And virgin honour, once, is always stain'd:
Timely advis'd, the coming evil shun :
Better not do the deed, than weep it done.
No penance can absolve our guilty fame;

Nor tears, that wash out sin, can wash out shame.
Then fly the sad effects of desperate love,

And leave a banish'd man through lonely woods to

rove.

EMMA.

Let Emma's hapless case be falsely told By the rash young, or the ill-natur'd old : Let every tongue its various censures choose; Absolve with coldness, or with spite accuse : Fair Truth, at last, her radiant beams will raise; And Malice vanquish'd heightens Virtue's praise. Let then thy favour but indulge my flight; O! let my presence make thy travels light; And potent Venus shall exalt my name Above the rumours of censorious Fame; Nor from that busy demon's restless power Will ever Emma other grace implore,

Than that this truth should to the world be known, That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone.

HENRY.

But canst thou wield the sword, and bend the bow? With active force repel the sturdy foe?

When the loud tumult speaks the battle nigh,
And winged deaths in whistling arrows fly;
Wilt thou, though wounded, yet undaunted stay,
Perform thy part, and share the dangerous day?
Then, as thy strength decays, thy heart will fail,
Thy limbs all trembling, and thy cheeks all pale;
With fruitless sorrow, thou, inglorious maid,
Wilt weep thy safety by thy love betray'd:
Then to thy friend, by foes o'er-charg'd, deny
Thy little useless aid, and coward fly :

Then wilt thou curse the chance that made thee love
A banish'd man, condemn'd in lonely woods to rove.

EMMA.

With fatal certainty Thalestris knew
To send the arrow from the twanging yew;
And, great in arms, and foremost in the war,
Bonduca brandish'd high the British spear.
Could thirst of vengeance and desire of fame
Excite the female breast with martial flame?
And shall not love's diviner power inspire
More hardy virtue, and more generous fire?

Near thee, mistrust not, constant I'll abide,
And fall, or vanquish, fighting by thy side.
Though my inferior strength may not allow
That I should bear or draw the warrior bow;
With ready hand I will the shaft supply,

And joy to see thy victor arrows fly.

Touch'd in the battle by the hostile reed,

Should'st thou, (but Heaven avert it!) should'st thou bleed;

To stop the wounds, my finest lawn I'd tear,
Wash them with tears, and wipe them with my hair;

Blest, when my dangers and my toils have shown That I, of all mankind, could love but thee alone.

HENRY.

But canst thou, tender maid, canst thou sustain Afflictive want, or hunger's pressing pain? Those limbs, in lawn and softest silk array'd, From sun-beams guarded, and of winds afraid, Can they bear angry Jove? can they resist The parching dog-star, and the bleak north-east? When, chill'd by adverse snows and beating rain, We tread with weary steps the longsome plain; When with hard toil we seek our evening food, Berries and acorns from the neighbouring wood; And find among the cliffs no other house But the thin covert of some gather'd boughs; Wilt thou not then reluctant send thine eye Around the dreary waste, and, weeping, try (Though then, alas! that trial be too late) To find thy father's hospitable gate,

And seats, where ease and plenty brooding sate? Those seats, whence long excluded, thou must

mourn:

That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return:

Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,

And hate a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove?

EMMA.

Thy rise of fortune did I only wed, From its decline determin'd to recede; Did I but purpose to embark with thee On the smooth surface of a summer's sea;

While gentle Zephyrs play in prosperous gales
And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails;
But would forsake the ship, and make the shore,
When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar?
No, Henry, no one sacred oath has tied
Our loves one destiny our life shall guide;
Nor wild nor deep our common way divide.

When from the cave thou risest with the day,
To beat the woods, and rouse the bounding prey;
The cave with moss and branches I'll adorn,
And cheerful sit, to wait my lord's return:
And, when thou frequent bring'st the smitten deer,
(For seldom, archers say, thy arrows err)

I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighbouring wood,
And strike the sparkling flint, and dress the food;
With humble duty, and officious haste,

I'll cull the furthest mead for thy repast;
The choicest herbs I to thy board will bring,
And draw thy water from the freshest spring:
And, when at night with weary toil opprest,
Soft slumbers thou enjoy'st, and wholesome rest,
Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight prayer
Weary the gods to keep thee in their care;
And joyous ask, at morn's returning ray,
If thou hast health, and I may bless the day.
"My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend,
On thee, guide, guardian, kinsman, father, friend:
By all these sacred names be Henry known
To Emma's heart; and grateful let him own
That she, of all mankind, could love but him alone!

HENRY

Vainly thou tell'st me, what the woman's care Shall in the wildness of the wood prepare: Thou, ere thou goest, unhappiest of thy kind, Must leave the habit and the sex behind. No longer shall thy comely tresses break In flowing ringlets on thy snowy neck; Or sit behind thy head, an ample round, In graceful braids with various ribbon bound: No longer shall the bodice aptly lac'd, From thy full bosom to thy slender waist, That air and harmony of shape express, Fine by degrees, and beautifully less : Nor shall thy lower garments' artful plait, From thy fair side dependent to thy feet, Arm their chaste beauties with a modest pride, And double every charm they seek to hide. Th' ambrosial plenty of thy shining hair, Cropt off and lost, scarce lower than thy ear Shall stand uncouth: a horseman's coat shall hide Thy taper shape, and comeliness of side:

The short trunk-hose shall show thy foot and knee
Licentious, and to common eye-sight free:

And, with a bolder stride and looser air,
Mingled with men, a man thou must appear.
Nor solitude, nor gentle peace of mind,
Mistaken maid, shalt thou in forests find:
'Tis long since Cynthia and her train were there,
Or guardian gods made innocence their care.
Vagrants and outlaws shall offend thy view :
For such must be my friends, a hideous crew