Perhaps I might have faid, three months are gone.

Three months! replied the fair, three months alone!

Know that three hundred years have roll'd away,

Since at my feet the lovely phoenix lay.

Three hundred years! re-echo'd back the prince,
A whole three hundred years compleated fince
I landed here! O! whither then are flown

My dearest friends, my fubjects, and my throne?
How ftrange, alas! how alter'd fhall I find
Each earthly thing, each scene I left behind!
Who knows me now? on whom fhall I depend
To gain my rights? where fhall I find a friend?
My crown perhaps may grace a foreign line,
A race of kings that know, not me nor mine;
Who reigns may with my death, his fubjects treat
My claim with scorn, and call their prince a cheat.
Oh had my life been ended as begun!

My deftin'd stage, my race of glory run,

I should have died well pleas'd; my honour'd name Had liv'd, had flourish'd in the lift of fame; Reflecting now my mind with horror fees

The fad furvey, a fcene of fhameful ease,

The odious blot, the fcandal of my race,

Scarce known, and only mention'd with difgrace.

1

The fair beheld him with impatient eye,
And red with anger, made this warm reply.
Ungrateful man! is this the kind return

My love deferves? and can you thus with scorn
Reject what once you priz'd, what once you fwore
Surpafs'd all charms, and made ev'n glory poor?
What gifts have I bestow'd, what favours shewn!
Made you partaker of my bed and throne

Three centuries preferv'd in youthful prime,

Safe from the rage of death, and injuries of time.
Weak arguments! for glory reigns above

The feeble ties of gratitude and love.

I

urge them not, nor would request your stay; The phantom glory calls, and I obey;

All other virtues are regardlefs quite,
Sunk and abforb'd in that fuperior light.
Go then, barbarian, to thy realms return,
And fhew thyself unworthy my concern;
Go, tell the world, your tender heart could give
Death to the princess, by whofe care you live.

At this a deadly pale her cheeks o'erspread,
Cold trembling feiz'd her limbs, her spirits fled;
She funk into his arms: the prince was mov'd,
Felt all her griefs, for still he greatly lov❜d.

He

He figh❜d, he wish'd he could forget his throne,
Confine his thoughts, and live for her alone;
But glory fhot him deep, the venom'd dart
Was fix'd within, and rankled at his heart;
He could not hide its wounds, but pin'd away
Like a fick flow'r, and languish'd in decay.
An age no longer like a month appears,
But every month becomes a hundred years.
Felicity was griev'd, and could not bear

A scene fo chang'd, a fight of fo much care.
She told him with a look of cold disdain,
And seeming eafe, as women well can feign,
He might depart at will; a milder air

Would mend his health; he was no pris'ner there;
She kept him not, and wifh'd he ne'er might find
Cause to regret the place he left behind;

Which once he lov'd, and where he still muft own,
He had at least some little pleasure known.
If these prophetic words awhile destroy
His peace, the former ballance it in joy.
He thank'd her for her kind concern, but chofe
To quit the place, the rest let heav'n dispose.
For Fate, on mischiefs bent, perverts the will,
And first infatuates whom it means to kill.

VOL. VI.

e

Aurora

Aurora now, not, as fhe wont to rife, In gay attire ting'd with a thousand dies, But fober-fad in folemn ftate appears,

Clad in a dufky veil bedew'd with tears.

Thick mantling clouds beneath her chariot spread,
A faded wreath hangs drooping from her head.
The fick❜ning fun emits a feeble ray,

Half drown'd in fogs, and ftruggling into day.
Some black event the threat'ning skies foretel.
Porfenna rofe to take his last farewel.

A curious veft the mournful princess brought,
And armour by the Lemnian artist wrought;
A fhining lance with fecret virtue ftor'd,
And of refiftlefs force a magic fword;
Caparifons and gems of wond'rous price,

And loaded him with gifts and good advice;

But chief she gave, and what he most would need,

The fleetest of her ftud, a flying steed.

The fwift Grifippo, faid th' afflicted fair,

(Such was the courfer's name) with speed shall bear, And place you fafely in your native air;

Affift against the foe, with matchless might
Ravage the field, and turn the doubtful fight;

With care protect you till the danger cease,
Your trust in war, your ornament in peace.
But this, I warn, beware; whate'er shall lay
To intercept your course, or tempt your stay,
Quit not your faddle, nor your speed abate,
'Till fafely landed at your palace gate.

On this alone depends your weal or woe;

Such is the will of Fate, and fo the Gods forefhew.
He in the fofteft terms repaid her love,

And vow'd, nor age, nor abfence should remove

A

His conftant faith, and fure fhe could not blame
A fhort divorce due to his injur'd fame.

The debt discharg'd, then should her foldier come
Gay from the field, and flush'd with conqueft, home;
With equal ardour her affection meet,

And lay his laurels at his mistrefs' feet.

He ceas'd, and fighing took a kind adieu;

Then urg'd his fteed; the fierce Grifippo flew ;
With rapid force outstripp'd the lagging wind,
And left the blissful fhores, and weeping fair behind;
Now o'er the feas purfued his airy flight,

[height.
Now fcower'd the plains, and climb'd the mountain's
Thus driving on at speed the prince had run
Near half his courfe, when, with the fetting fun,