"This weapon's mine!" fhe cries. (then grafp'd it fast) "And now the luftful tyrant fleeps his last." With eager hand the pointed steel she draws, Ev'n murder pleases in so just a cause;

Nor fears, nor dangers, now resistance make, Since honour, life, and dearer fame, 's at stake. Yet in her breaft does kind compaffion plead, And fills her foul with horror of the deed; Her fex's tenderness resumes its place, And spreads in confcious blushes o'er her face. Now, ftung with the remorfe of guilt, fhe cries, "Ah, frantic girl, what wild attempt is this! "Think, think, Theutilla, on the murderer's doom, "And tremble at a punishment to come :

"Stain not thy virgin hands with guilty blood,
"And dread to be fo criminally good.

"Lay both thy courage and thy weapon down,
"Nor fly to aids a maid must blush to own;
"Nor arms", nor valour, with thy fex agree,
"They wound thy fame, and taint thy modefty."
Thus different paffions combat in her mind,

Oft she's to pity, oft to rage inclin'd:

Now from her hand the hated weapon's caft,
Then feiz'd again with more impetuous haste :
Unfix'd her wishes, her refolves are vain,
What she attempts, fhe ftraight rejects again;
Her looks, the emblems of her thoughts, appear
Vary'd with rage, with pity, and despair:
Alone her fears incline to no extreme,
Equally poiz'd betwixt revenge and shame.

At

At length, with more prevailing rage poffeft,
Her jealous honour steels her daring breast :
The thoughts of injur'd fame new courage gave,
And nicer virtue now confirms her brave.
Then the fam'd Judith her whole mind employs,
Urges her hand, and fooths the fatal choice:
This great example pleas'd, inflam'd by this,
With wild diforder to the youth fhe flies;
One hand the wreaths within his flowing hair,
The other does the ready weapon bear :

"Now guide me (cries) fair Hebrew, now look down,

"And pity labours thou haft undergone.

"Direct the hand that takes thy path to fame,

"And be propitious to a virgin's name,

"Whofe glory's but a refuge from her fhame!"
Thus rais'd by hopes, and arm'd with courage now,
She with undaunted looks directs the blow:
Deep in his breast the spacious wound she made,
And to his heart dispatch'd th' unerring blade.
When their expiring lord the fervants heard,,
Whofe dying groans the fatal act declar'd,
Like a fierce torrent, with no bounds they 're stay'd,
But vent their rage on the defenceless maid:
Not virtue, youth, nor beauty in distress,
Can move their favage breafts to tenderness:
But death with horrid torments they prepare,
And to her fate th' undaunted virgin bear.
Tortures and death feem lovely in her eyes,
Since the to honour falls a facrifice :

Amidst her fufferings, ftill her mind is great,
And, free from guilt, fhe triumphs o'er her fate.

But heaven, that 's fuffering virtue's fure reward,
Exerts its power, and is itfelf her guard :
Amalis, confcious of his black offence,

Now feels remorfe for her wrong'd innocence;
Though now he's ftruggling in the pangs of death,
And all life's purple ftream is ebbing forth:
Yet, raifing up his pale and drooping head,
He recollects his fpirits as they fled,

And, with his laft remains of voice, he faid,

}

"Spare the chafte maid, your impious hands reftrain,
"Nor beauty with fuch infolence prophane :
"Learn by my fate wrong'd innocence to spare,
Since injur'd virtue's heaven's peculiar care.”
But you, brave virgin, now fhall stand enrol'd
Amongst the nobleft heroines of old:
Thy fam'd attempt, and celebrated hand,
Shall lafting trophies of thy glory stand;
And, if my verse the just reward can give,
Theutilla's name fhall to new ages live.
For to thy sex thou haft new honours won,
And France now boasts a Judith of its own.

A N

D E

FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1693.

I.

BEGIN, and ftrike th' harmonious lyre !

Let the loud inftruments prepare

To raise our fouls, and charm the ear, With joys which mufic only can inspire:

Hark

Hark how the willing ftrings obey!

To confecrate this happy day, Sacred to Mufic, Love, and blest Cecilia.

In lofty numbers, tuneful lays,
We'll celebrate the virgin's praise :

Her skilful hand first taught our strings to move,
To her this facred art we owe,

Who first anticipated heaven below,

And play'd the hymns on earth, that fhe now fings above.

II.

What moving charms each tuneful voice contains,
Charms that through the willing ear

A tide of pleafing raptures bear,

And, with diffusive joys, run thrilling through our veins. The listening foul does fympathize,

And with each vary'd note complies:
While gay and sprightly airs delight,
Then free from cares, and unconfin'd,
It takes, in pleasing ecstafies, its flight.

With mournful founds, a fadder garb it wears,
Indulges grief, and gives a loose to tears.

III.

Mufic's the language of the bleft above,

No voice but Mufic's can exprefs

The joys that happy fouls poffefs,

Nor in just raptures tell the wondrous power of Love.

'Tis Nature's dialect, design'd

To charm, and to instruct the mind.

Mufic's an univerfal good!

Cc 2

That

That does difpenfe its joys around,
In all the elegance of found,

To be by men admir'd, by angels understood.

Let

every

IV.

reftlefs paffion cease to move! And each tumultuous thought obey

The happy influence of this day, For Mufic's unity and love. Mufic's the foft indulger of the mind,

The kind diverter of our care,

The fureft refuge mournful grief can find;
A cordial to the breaft, and charm to every ear.
Thus, when the prophet ftruck his tuneful lyre,
Saul's evil genius did retire:

In vain were remedies apply'd,

In vain all other arts were try'd:

His hand and voice alone the charm could find,
To heal his body, and compose his mind.

V.

Now let the trumpet's louder voice proclaim
A folemn jubilee :

For ever facred let it be,

To fkilful Jubal's, and Cecilia's name.
Great Jubal, author of our lays,

Who firft the hidden charms of mufic found;
And through their airy paths did trace

The fecret fprings of found.

When from his hollow chorded shell

The foft melodious accents fell,

With wonder and delight he play'd,

While the harmonious ftrings his skilful hand obey'd.

VI, But