LOVE and HONOUR.

Sed neque Medorum filvæ, ditiffima terra,

Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Hamus, Laudibus Angligenûm certent: non Ba&tra, nec Indi, Totaque turriferis Panchaia pinguis arenis.

L

ET the green olive glad Hefperian shores;

the green olive orange-groves,

Her tawny citron, and her

These let IBERIA boaft; but if in vain,
To win the ftranger plant's diffusive smile,
The BRITON labours, yet our native minds,
Our conftant bofoms, these, the dazled world
May view with envy; thefe, Iberian dames
Survey with fixt efteem and fond defire.

Haplefs ELVIRA! thy difaftrous fate
May well this truth explain; nor ill adorn
The British lyre; then chiefly, if the muse,
Nor vain nor partial, from the fimple guife
Of ancient record catch the penfive lay;
And in lefs groveling accents give to fame.
ELVIRA! loveliest maid! th' Iberian realm
Could boaft no purer breaft, no fprightlier mind,
No race more fplendent, and no form so fair.
Such was the chance of war, this peerless maid
In life's luxuriant bloom, enrich'd the spoil
Of British victors, vict'ry's nobleft pride!

She,

She, fhe alone, amid the wailful train,
Of captive maids, affign'd to HENRY's care;
Lord of her life, her fortune, and her fame!
He, gen'rous youth, with no penurious hand,
The tedious moments that unjoyous roll
Where freedom's chearful radiance fhines no more,
Effay'd to foften; confeious of the pang
That beauty feels, to waste its fleeting hours
In fome dim fort, by foreign rule restrain'd,
Far from the haunts of men, or eye of day!
Sometimes, to cheat her bofom of its
scares,
Her kind protector number'd o'er the toils
Himself had worn: the frowns of angry feas,
Or hoftile rage, or faithless friend, more fell
Than form or foe: if haply fhe might find
Her cares diminish'd; fruitlefs fond effay!
Now to her lovely hand, with modest awe
The tender lute he gave: fhe not averse
Nor deftitute of skill, with willing hand
Call'd forth angelic ftrains; the facred debt
Of gratitude, the faid; whofe just commands
Still might her hand with equal pride obey!
Nor to the melting founds the nymph refus'd
Her vocal art; harmonious, as the ftrain
Of fome imprison'd lark, who daily chear'd
By guardian cares, repays them with a fong:
Nor droops, nor deems fweet liberty refign'd.
The fong, not artlefs, had fhe fram'd to paint
Difaftrous paffion; how, by tyrant laws

Of idiot custom fway'd, fome soft-ey'd fair!
Lov'd only one ; nor dar'd that love reveal!
How the foft anguish banish'd from her cheek
The damafk rofe full-blown; a fever came;
And from her bofom forc'd the plaintive tale.
Then, fwift as light, he fought the love-lorn maid,^
But vainly fought her; torn by fwifter fate
To join the tenants of the myrtle shade,
Love's mournful victims on the plains below.

Sometimes, as fancy spoke the pleafing task, "T She taught her artful needle to display

The various pride of fpring: then fwift upfprung
Thickets of myrtle, eglantine, and rofe:
There might you fee, on gentle toils intent,
A train of bufy loves; fomé pluck the flow'r,
Some twine the garland, fome with grave grimace
Around a vacant warrior caft the wreath.
'Twas paint, 'twas life! and fure to piercing eyes
The warrior's face depictur'd HENRY'S mien.

Now had the gen'rous chief with joy perus'd
The royal feroll, which to their native home,
Their ancient rights, uninjur'd, unredeem'd,
Refor'd the captives. Forth with rapid hafte
To glad his fair ELVIRA's ear, he fprung;
Fir'd by the blifs he panted to convey;

But fir'd in vain! Ah! what was his amazė,
His fond diftrefs, when o'er her pallid face
Dejection reign'd, and from her lifelefs hand
Down dropt the myrtle's fair unfinish'd flow'r !!

Speechless

Speechlefs the flood; at length with accents faint, "Well may my native fhore, the faid, refound

Thy monarch's praife; and ere ELVIRA prove "Of thine forgetful, flow'rs fhall cease to feel "The foft'ring breeze, and nature change her laws!?! And now the grateful edict wide alarm'd The British hoft. Around the fmiling youths Call'd to their native scenes, with willing hafte Their fleet unmoor; impatient of the love That weds each bofom to its native foil. The patriot paffion! ftrong in ev'ry clime, How juftly theirs, who find no foreign sweets To diffipate their loves, or match their own.

Not fo ELVIRA! fhe, difaftrous maid,

Was doubly captive! pow'r nor chance cou'd loose
The subtle bands; fhe lov'd her gen'rous foe.
She, where her HENRY dwelt, her HENRY. fmil'd,
Could term her native fhore; her native shore
By him deferted, fome unfriendly strand,
Strange, bleak, forlorn! a defert waste and wild.

The fleet careen'd, the wind propitious fill'd
The fwelling fails, the glitt'ring transports way'd
Their pennants gay, and halcyons azure wing
With flight aufpicious kim'd the placid main.
On her lone couch in tears ELVIRA lay,
And chid th' officious wind, the tempting sea,
And wifh'd a ftorm as merciless, as tore
Her lab'ring bofom. Fondly now the ftrove
To banish paffion; now the vaffal days,

The captive moments that fo fmoothly past,
By many an art recall'd ; now from her lute
With trembling fingers call'd the fav'rite founds.
Which HENRY deign'd to praife; and now effay'd
With mimic chains of filken fillets wove

To paint her captive ftate; if any fraud
Might to her love the pleafing scenes prolong,
And with the dear idea feast the soul.

But now the chief return'd; prepar'd to launch
On ocean's willing breaft, and bid adieu
To his fair pris'ner. She, foon as she heard
His hated errand, now no more conceal'd
The raging flame; but with a spreading blush,
And rifing figh, the latent pang disclos'd.

"Yes, gen'sous youth! I fee thy bofom glow
With virtuous tranfport, that the task is thine
To folve my chains; and to my weeping friends,
And every longing relative, restore
A foft-ey'd maid, a mild offenceless prey!
But know, my foldier, never youthful mind,
Torn from the lavish joys of wild expence
By him he loath'd, and in a dungeon bound
To languish out his bloom, could catch the pains
This ill-ftar'd freedom gives my tortur'd mind.

What call I freedom? is it that these limbs
From rigid bolts fecure, may wander far
From him I love? Alas, ere I may boast
That facred blefling, fome fuperior pow'r
To mortal kings, to fublunary thrones,

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