There o'er some folio pore; I pore 'tis true, But oh my thoughts are fled, and fled to you! So when glad Orpheus from th' infernal shade Had just recall'd his long-lamented maid, Soon as her charms had reach'd his eager eyes, Lost in eternal night-again she dies. HENRY AND EMMA. [PRIOR.] WHERE beauteous Isis and her husband Thame When dreadful Edward with successful care From the loud camp retired and noisy court, In honourable ease and rural sport The remnant of his days he safely pass'd, Nor found they lag'd too slow, nor flew too fast. Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die. T One child he had, a daughter chaste and fair, As with her stature still her charms increased; Thro' all the isle her beauty was confess'd. Oh! what perfections must that virgin share, Who fairest is esteem'd, where all are fair! From distant shires repair the noble youth, And find report, for once, had lessen'd truth. By wonder first, and then by passion moved, They came; they saw; they marvell'd; and they loved. By public praises, and by secret sighs, Each own'd the gen'ral power of Emma's eyes. In tilts and tournaments the valiant strove, By glorious deeds to purchase Emma's love. In gentle verse the witty told their flame, And graced their choicest songs with Emma's name. In vain they combated, in vain they writ: Useless their strength, and impotent their wit. Great Venus only must direct the dart, Which else will never reach the fair one's heart, In Henry's cause her favour must be shewn : While these in public to the castle came, When Emma hunts, in huntsman's habit drest, Directs her spear to fix the glorious wound, Pleased in his toils to have her triumph crown'd, And blows her praises with no common sound. A falc❜ner Henry is when Emma hawks : With her of tarsels and of lures he talks. Upon his wrist the tow'ring Merlin stands, Practised to rise, and stoop, at her commands. And when superior now the bird has flown, And headlong brought the tumbling quarry down, With humble rev'rence he accosts the fair, And with the honour'd feather decks her hair. Yet still, as from the sportive field he goes, His downcast eye reveals his inward woes; And by his look and sorrow is exprest, A nobler game pursued than bird or beast. A shepherd now along the plain he roves, And with his jolly pipe delights the groves. The neighb'ring swains around the stranger throng, Or to admire or emulate his song: While, with soft sorrow, he renews his lays, |