XVIII.

Yes, partial gods! inflicters of my care!
Be witness what I felt, what grief, what fear!
When full of stifled woes the night he fled,

No figh I dar'd to breathe, no tear to shed.
XIX.

Whilft men of faith approv'd, a chofen crew,
Firm to their truft, and to their mistress true,
With care too punctual my commands obey,
And in one freight my life and thee convey.
XX.

The harder task was mine; condemn'd to bear
With brow ferene, my agonizing care;
To mix in idle talk, to force a smile,

A king and jealous lover to beguile.

XXI.

Think in that dreadful interval of fate,
All I held dear, thy fafety in debate,

Think what I fuffer'd, whilft my heart afraid
Suggests a thousand times, that all's betray'd.

XXII.

A thousand times revolving in my mind

The doubtful chance; oh! Love! faid I, be kind: Propitious to my scheme, thy vot'ry aid,

And be my fondnefs by fuccefs repaid.

XXIII. Now

XXIII.

Now bolder grown, with fanguine hopes elate,
My fancy represents thy fmiling fate;

The guards deceiv'd, and every danger o'er,
The winds already waft him from the shore.
XXIV.

These pleasing images anew impart
Life to my eyes, and gladness to my heart;
Difpel the gloomy fears that cloud my face,
And charm the little flutterer to peace.
XXV.

But now the king, or tastelefs to my charms,
Or weary of an absent mistress' arms,
His own apartment feeks, and grateful rest;
That courted stranger to the careful breast.

XXVI.

Whilft I, by hopes and fears alternate fway'd,

Impatient ask the flaves if I'm obey'd.

'Tis done, they cry'd, and ftruck me with despair; For what I long'd to know, I dy'd to hear.

XXVII.

Fantastic turn of a distracted mind;

I blam'd the gods for having been too kind
Curs'd the fuccefs they granted to my vows,
And this affistant hand that fill'd my woes.

I'

XXVIII. Such

XXVIII.

Such was my frenzy in that hour of care,
And fuch th' injuftice of my bold despair;
That even those, ungrateful I upbraid,

Whofe fatal diligence my will obey'd.
XXIX.

Scarce, Marius, did thyfelf escape my rage;

(Moft lov'd of men!) when fears of black prefage Describe thy heart fo fond of liberty,

It never gave one parting throb for me.

XXX.

At every step you should have turn'd your eye,
Dropt a regretful tear, and heav'd a figh;
The nature of the grace I fhew'd was such,
You not deferv'd it, if it pleas'd too much.
XXXI.

A lover would have linger'd as he fled,
And oft in anguish to himself have said,
Farewel for ever! Ah! yet more he'd done,
A lover never would have fled alone.

XXXII.

To force me from a hated rival's bed,
Why comes not Marius at an army's head?
Oh! did thy heart but wish to fee that day,
"Twould all my past, and future woes o'erpay.
XXXIII. But

XXXIII.

But vain are all these hopes: preferve thy breast

From falfhood only, I forgive the rest:
Too happy, if no envy'd rival boast
Those joys Arisbe for her Marius loft.

ROXANA to US BEC K.

From LES LETTRES PERSANNES.

By the Same.

Roxana, one of Ufbeck's wives, was found (whilft be was in Europe) in bed with her lover, whom she had privately let into the feraglio. The guardian eunuch who difcovered them, bad the man murdered on the Spot, and her clofe guarded 'till be received inftructions from his mafter how to difpofe of her. During that interval fhe fwallowed poyfon, and is fuppofed to write the following letter whilft fhe is dying.

HINK not I write my innocence to prove,

TH

To fue for pity, or awake thy love:

No mean defence expect, or abject pray'rs ;
Thou know'st no mercy, and I know no tears:
I laugh at all thy vengeance has decreed,
Avow the fact, and glory in the deed.

Yes,

Yes, tyrant! I deceiv'd thy fpies and thee:
Pleas'd in oppreffion, and in bondage free:
The rigid agents of thy cruel laws

By gold I won to aid my juster caufe:
With dextrous skill eluded all thy care,
And acted more than jealoufy could fear:

To wanton bow'rs this prifon-house I turn'd,

And bless'd that absence which you thought I mourn'd. But fhort those joys allow'd by niggard Fate,

Yet fo refin❜d, fo exquifitely great,

That their excess compenfated their date.
I die already in each burning vein

I feel the poys'nous draught, and bless the pain:
For what is life unless its joys we prove?
And where is joy, depriv'd of what we love?
Yet, ere I die, this juftice I have paid
To my dear murder'd lover's injur❜'d shade :
Thofe facrilegious inftruments of power,
Who wrought that ruin these fad eyes deplore,
Already with their blood their crimes atone,
And for his life have facrific'd their own.

Thee, though restraint and abfence may defend
From my revenge, my curfes ftill attend :

Despair