'They cry'd for food, but 'twas without relief:
For all they had to live upon, was grief.
A forrow fo intenfe, fuch deep despair,
No creature, merely human, long could bear.
First in her arms her weeping babes she took,
And, with a groan, did to her husband look:
Then lean'd her head on theirs, and, fighing, cry'd,
Pity me, Saviour of the world! and dy'd.

From this fad fpectacle my eyes I turn'd,

Where fons their fathers, maids their lovers, mourn'd:
Friends for their friends, fifters for brothers, wept,
Prisoners of war, in chains, for slaughter kept
Each every hour did the black meffage dread,
Which should declare the perfon lov'd was dead,
Then I beheld, with brutal shouts of mirth,
A comely youth, and of no common birth,
To execution led; who hardly bore
The wounds in battle, he receiv'd before:
And, as he pass'd, I heard him bravely cry,
I neither wish to live, nor fear to die.

At the curs'd tent arriv'd, without delay,
They did me to the general convey :

Who thus began

Madam! by fresh intelligence, I find,

That Charion's treafon 's of the blackest kind;
And my commiffion is express to spare
None that fe deeply in rebellion are :
New measures therefore 'tis in vain to try;
No pardon can be granted; he must die.

Muft

Muft, or I hazard all: which yet I'd do
To be oblig'd in one request by you:
And, maugre all the dangers I foresee,

Be mine this night, I'll set your husband free.
Soldiers are rough, and cannot hope fuccefs
By fupple flattery, and by foft addrefs
The pert, gay coxcomb, by these little arts,
Gains an afcendant o'er the ladies hearts.
But I can no fuch whining methods use:
Confent, he lives; he dies, if you refuse.
Amaz'd at this demand; faid I, The brave,
Upon ignoble terms, difdain to fave:
They let their captives ftill with honour live,
No more require, than what themselves would give;
For, generous victors, as they fcorn to do
Dishonest things, fcorn to propose them too.
Mercy, the brightest virtue of the mind,
Should with no devious appetite be join'd:
For if, when exercis'd, a crime it coft,
Th' intrinfic luftre of the deed is loft.

Great men their actions of a piece should have;
Heroic all, and each intirely brave:

From the nice rules of honour none fhould fwerve.;
Done, because good, without a mean referve.

The crimes new charg'd upon the unhappy youth,
May have revenge, and malice, but no truth.
Suppose the accufation juftly brought,
And clearly prov'd to the minutest thought;
Yet mercies next to infinite abate

Offences next to infinitely great:

And

And 'tis the glory of a noble mind,
In full forgiveness not to be confin'd.
Your prince's frowns if you have caufe to fear,
This act will more illuftrious appear;
Though his excufe can never be withstood,
Who difobeys, but only to be good.

Perhaps the hazard 's more than you exprefs;
The glory would be, were the danger less.
For he that, to his prejudice, will do
A noble action, and a generous too,
Deferves to wear a more refplendent crown
Than he that has a thousand battles won.
Do not invert divine compaffion fo,
As to be cruel, and no mercy fhew!

Of what renown can fuch an action be,
Which faves my husband's life, but ruins me?
Though, if you finally refolve to stand

Upon fo vile, inglorious a demand,

He muft fubmit; if 'tis my fate to mourn
His death, I'll bathe with virtuous tears his urn.
Well, madam, haughtily, Neronior cry'd,
Your courage and your virtue shall be try'd.
But to prevent all prospect of a flight,

*

Some of my lambs shall be your guard to-night:

By them, no doubt, you'll tenderly be us'd;

They feldom afk a favour that 's refus'd:

Perhaps you 'll find them fo genteely bred,

They'll leave you but few virtuous tears to fhed.

*Kirke ufed to call the moft inhuman of his foldiers his lambs.

Surrounded

Surrounded with so innocent a throng,
The night muft pafs delightfully along :
And in the morning, fince you will not give
What I require, to let your husband live,
You shall behold him figh his latest breath,
And gently fwing into the arms of death.
His fate he merits, as to rebels due:
And yours will be as much deferv'd by you.
Oh Cælia, think! fo far as thought can fhew,
What pangs of grief, what agonies of woe,
At this dire refolution, feiz'd my breast!
By all things fad and terrible poffeft.
In vain I wept, and 'twas in vain I pray'd,
For all my prayers were to a tiger made:
A tiger! worfe; for, 'tis beyond difpute,
No fiend 's fo cruel as a reasoning brute.
Encompass'd thus, and hopeless of relief,
With all the fquadrons of despair and grief?
Ruin it was not poffible to shun:

What could I do? Oh! what would you have done?

The hours that pass'd, till the black morn return'd, With tears of blood fhould be for ever mourn'd.

When, to involve me with confummate grief,
Beyond expreffion, and above belief,

Madam, the monster cry'd, that you may

I can be grateful to the fair that 's kind;

And

Step to the door, I'll fhew you such a sight,
Shall overwhelm your spirits with delight.

Does not that wretch, who would dethrone his king,
Become the gibbet, and adorn the string?

You

You need not now an injur'd husband dread;
Living he might, he'll not upbraid you dead.
'Twas for your fake I feiz'd upon his life;
He would perhaps have fcorn'd fo chaste a wife.
And, madam, you'll excufe the zeal I fhew,
To keep that fecret none alive should know.
Curs'd of all creatures! for, compar'd with thee,
The devils, faid I, are dull in cruelty.
Oh, may that tongue eternal vipers breed,
And wastelefs their eternal hunger feed;
In fires too hot for falamanders dwell,
The burning earnest of a hotter hell;
May that vile lump of execrable luft
Corrupt alive, and rot into the duft!

May'ft thou, despairing at the point of death,
With oaths and blafphemies refign thy breath;
And the worst torments that the damn'd should share,
In thine own perfon all united bear!

Oh Cælia! Oh my friend! what age can fhew
Sorrows like mine, fo exquifite a woe?

Indeed it does not infinite appear,

Because it can't be everlasting here :

But it's fo vaft, that it can ne'er increase:
And fo confirm'd, it never can be lefs.