Yes, tyrant! I deceiv'd thy spies and thee:
Pleas'd in oppreffion, and in bondage free:
The rigid agents of thy cruel laws
By gold I won to aid my jufter caufe:
With dextrous fkill eluded all thy care,
And acted more than jealoufy could fear:
To wanton bow'rs this prifon-house I turn'd,
And blefs'd that abfence which you thought I mourn'd.
But fhort those joys allow'd by niggard Fate,
Yet fo refin'd, fo exquifitely great,
That their excefs 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 justice I have paid
To my dear murder'd lover's injur'd shade:
Thofe facrilegious inftruments of power,
Who wrought that ruin these sad eyes deplore,
Already with their blood their crimes atone,
And for his life have facrific'd their own.
Thee, though restraint and absence may defend
From my revenge, my curfes ftill attend:
Despair like mine, barbarian! be thy part,
Remorfe afflict, and forrow fting thy heart.
Nor think this hate commencing in my breast,
Though prudence long its latent force fupprefs'd;
I knew those wrongs that I was forc'd to bear,
And curs'd those chains Injustice made me wear.
For could't thou hope Roxana to deceive
With idle tales, which only fools believe?
Poor abject fouls in fuperftition bred,
In ign'rance train'd, by prejudice mifled;
Whom hireling dervises by proxy teach
From thofe whofe falfe prerogative they preach.
Didst thou imagine me fo weak of mind,
Because I murmur'd not, I ne'er repin'd,
But hugg'd my chain, and thought my jaylor kind?
That willingly those laws I e'er obey'd,
Which Pride invented, and Oppreffion made?
And whilst self-licens'd through the world you rove,
To quicken appetite by change in love;
Each paffion fated, and each wifh poffefs'd
That Luft can urge, or Fancy can suggest :
That I should mourn thy lofs with fond regret,
Weep the misfortune, and the wrong forget?
Could I believe that heav'n this beauty gave, (Thy tranfient pleasure, and thy lafting flave ;) Indu'd with reason, only to fulfil
The harsh commands of thy capricious will?
No, Ufbeck, no, my foul difdain'd those laws;
And though I wanted pow'r t' affert my cause,
My right I knew; and still those pleasures fought,
Which Juftice warranted, and Nature taught:
On Custom's fenfelefs precepts I refin'd,
I weigh'd what heav'n, I knew what man defign'd,
And form'd by her own rules my free-born mind.
Thus whilft this wretched body own'd thy pow'r,
Doom'd, unredrefs'd, its hardships to deplore;
My foul fubfervient to herself alone,
And Reason independent on her throne,
Contemn'd thy dictates, and obey'd their own.
Yet thus far to my conduct thanks are due,
At least I condefcended to feem true;
Endeavour'd still my fentiments to hide,
Indulg'd thy vanity, and footh'd thy pride.
Though this fubmiffion to a tyrant paid,
Whom not my duty, but fears obey'd,
If rightly weigh'd, would more deferve thy blame,
Who call it Virtue, but prophane her name:
For to the world I fhould have own'd that love,
Which all impartial judges must approve :
You urg'd a right to tyrannize my heart,
Which he folliciting, affail'd by art,
Whilft I, impatient of the name of flave,
To force refus'd, what I to merit gave.
Oft, as thy flaves this wretched body led
To the detefted pleasures of thy bed;
In those soft moments, confecrate to joy,
Which extacy and transport should employ ;
Clafp'd in your arms, you wonder'd ftill to find
So cold my kiffes, fo compos'd my mind:
But had thy cheated eyes difcern'd aright,
You'd found aversion, where you fought delight.
Not that my foul incapable of love,
No charms could warm, no tenderness could move;
For him, whofe love my every thought poffefs'd,
A fiercer paffion fill'd this conftant breast,
Than truth e'er felt, or falfhood e'er poffefs'd.
This ftile unusual to thy pride appears,
For truth's a stranger to the tyrant's ears;
But what have I to manage or to dread?
Nor threats alarm, nor infults hurt the dead:
No wrongs they feel, no miferies they find;
Cares are the legacies we leave behind:
In the calm grave no Ufbecks we deplore,
No tyrant husband, no oppreffive pow'r.
Alas! I faint-Death intercepts the rest.
The venom'd drug is bufy in my breast:
Each nerve's unftrung: a mist obfcures the day:
My fenfes, ftrength, and ev'n my hate decay:
Though rage awhile the ebbing spirits stay'd,
'Tis past they fink beneath the tranfient aid.
Take then, inhuman wretch! my last farewel;
Pain be thy portion here, hereafter, hell:
And when our prophet fhall my fate decree,
Be any curfe my punishment,' but thee.
EPILOGUE defign'd for SOPHONISBA,
And to have been spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD.
EFORE you fign poor Sophonisba's doom,
In her behalf petitioner I come;
Not but our author knows, whate'er I say,
That I could find objections to his play..
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