Why, gentle fwain, faid fhe, why do you grieve
'In words I should not hear, much lefs believe;
I gaze on that which is a fault to mind,
And ought to fly the danger which I find :
Of false mankind though you may be the best,
Ye all have robb'd poor women of their rest.
I fee your pain, and fee it too with grief,
Because I would, yet must not, give relief.
Thus, for a husband's fake as well as yours,
My fcrupulous foul divided pain endures;
Guilty, alas! to both: for thus I do

Too much for him, yet not enough for you.
Give over then, give over, hapless fwain,

A paffion moving, but a paffion vain :

Not chance nor time shall ever change my thought: 'Tis better much to die, than do a fault.

Oh, worse than ever! Is it then my doom
Just to fee heaven, where I must never come?
Your foft compaffion, if not fomething more ;
Yet I remain as wretched as before;

The wind indeed is fair, but ah! no fight of fhore.
Farewell, too fcrupulous fair-one; oh! farewell;
What torments I endure, no tongue can tell :
Thank heaven, my fate transports me now where I,
Your martyr, may with ease and safety die.

}

With that I kneel'd, and feiz'd her trembling hand, While the impos'd this cruel kind command: Live, and love on; you will be true, I know;

But live then, and come back to tell me fo;

For though I blush at this last guilty breath,
I can endure that better than your death.

Tormenting kindness! barbarous reprieve!
Condemn'd to die, and yet compell'd to live!
This tender fcene my dream repeated o'er,
Juft as it pafs'd in real truth before.
Methought I then fell groveling to the ground,
Till, on a fudden rais'd, I wondering found
A ftrange appearance all in taintlefs white;
His form gave reverence, and his face delight:
Goodness and greatnefs in his eyes were feen,
Gentle his look, and affable his mein.
A kindly notice of me thus he took :
"What mean these flowing eyes, this ghaftly look!
"Thefe trembling joints, this loofe difhevel'd hair,
"And this cold dew, the drops of deep despair ?"
With grief and wonder first my spirits faint,
But thus at last I vented my complaint:
Behold a wretch whom crucl fate has found,
And in the depth of all misfortune drown'd.
There shines a nymph, to whom an envy'd swain
Is ty'd in Hymen's ceremonious chain;

But, cloy'd with charms of fuch a marriage-bed,
And fed with manna, yet he longs for bread;
And will, moft husband-like, not only range
For love perhaps of nothing elfe but change,
But to inferior beauty proftrate lies,
And courts her love in fcorn of Flavia's eyes.

All this I knew (the form divine reply'd)
And did but ask to have thy temper try'd,

Which prove fincere. Of both I know the mind;
She is too fcrupulous, and thou too kind:
But fince thy fatal love 's for ever fix'd,
Whatever time or abfence come betwixt ;
Since thy fond heart ev'n her difdain prefers
To others love, I'll fomething foften hers:
Elfe in the fearch of virtue fhe may ftray;
Well-meaning mortals fhould not lofe their way.
She now indeed fins on the fafer fide,
For hearts too loofe are never to be ty'd;
But no extremes are either good or wife,
And in the midft alone true virtue lies.
When marriage-vows unite an equal pair,
'Tis a mere contract made by human care,
By which they both are for convenience ty'd,
The bridegroom yet more strictly than the bride;
For circumftances alter every ill,

And woman mects with moft temptation still;
She a forfaken bed must often bear,

While he can never fail to find her there,

And therefore lefs excus'd to range elsewhere.
Yet this fhe ought to suffer, and submit :
But when no longer for each other fit,
If ufage bafe fhall juft refentment move,
Or, what is worfe, affronts of wandering love;
No obligation after that remains,

'Tis mean, not juft, to wear a rival's chains.
Yet decency requires the wonted cares
Of intereft, children, and remote affairs;
E 4

}

But

But in her love, that dear concern of life,

She all the while may be another's wife :
Heaven, that beholds her wrong'd and widow'd bed,
Permits a lover in her husband's ftead.

I flung me at his feet, his robes would kiss,
And cry'd---Ev'n our base world is just in this;
Amidft our cenfures, love we gently blame,
And love fometimes preserves a female fame.
What tie less strong can woman's will restrain ?
When honour checks, and conscience pleads in vain
When parents threats and friends perfuafions fail,
When intereft and ambition scarce prevail,
To bound that fex when nothing else can move,
They'll live referv'd, to please the man they love!
The spirit then reply'd to all I faid,

She may be kind, but not till thou art dead;
Bewail thy memory, bemoan thy fate:

Then she will love, when 'tis, alas! too late:
Of all thy pains fhe will no pity have,
Till fad despair has fent thee to the grave.

Amaz'd, I wak'd in haste,

All trembling at my doom;
Dreams oft' repeat adventures past,
And tell our ills to come.

HELEN

HELEN TO PARIS.

FROM O VID.

TRANSLATED BY THE EARL OF MULGRAVE, AND MR. DRYDEN.

WHEN loofe epiftles violate chafte eyes,

She half confents, who filently denies ;
How dares a stranger, with defigns fo vain,
Marriage and hofpitable rights profane ?
Was it for this your fate did shelter find
From fwelling feas and every faithlefs wind?
(For though a distant country brought you forth,
Your ufage here was equal to your worth.)
Does this deferve to be rewarded fo!
Did you come here a ftranger, or a foe?
Your partial judgment may perhaps complain,
And think me barbarous for my just disdain;
Ill-bred then let me be, but not unchaste,
Nor my clear fame with any spot defac'd.
Though in my face there's no affected frown,
Nor in my carriage a feign'd niceness shown,
I keep my honour still without a stain,
Nor has my love made any coxcomb vain.
Your boldness I with admiration fee:
What hope had you to gain a queen like me?
Because a hero forc'd me once away,
Am I thought fit to be a fecond prey?