FELIX and CONSTANCE.

A POEM, taken from BOCCACE.

To the Right Honourable the Countess of POMFRET.

BLOWN on the rolling Surface of the Deep,
 The mourning Maid at length reclines to Sleep;
 While conscious Visions labour in her Breast,
 And airy Spectres discompose her Rest. 
Sometimes she seems upon her native Shore,
 Bless'd with the beauteous Youth, as heretofore;
 Hears him converse, while from his tuneful Tongue
 Melodious Sense, in melting Music, rung:
 Sometimes she finds, or seems at least to find,
 His shatter'd Vessel forc'd before the Wind,
 With foaming Waves, and furious Tempests tost,
 The Mast, and broken Sails, and Sailers lost:
 Sometimes her Dream, in frightful Forms, display'd
 A Crowd of Martyrs, cruel Love had made;
 Lamenting THISBE's Shade before her stands,
 Shews her capacious Wound, and purple Hands;
 Now Lyric SAPPHO in the Tide expires,
 Now faithful PORCIA eats the living Fires. 
At length, awaking from her Dream, she hears
 A Latian Voice, which thus salutes her Ears:

UNHAPPY Christian Maid! (for such, at least,
 You, by your decent Habit, seem exprest)
 Say whence you came, and hither how convey'd,
 Expos'd to Sea, without the Seaman's Aid? 

SOON as the Nymph her native Language hears,
 Her frighted Soul was fill'd with Doubts and Fears:
 She thought, the adverse Wind, or refluent Main,
 Had forc'd her back to Liparis again;
 Till, starting up, a spacious Land she spies;
 Barbarian Caves and Cots her Sight surprize:
 She sees a Matron on the neighb'ring Strand;
 Nor knows the Matron, nor the neighb'ring Land. 
O! whither, whither am I blown? she cries;
 What Dens and Caves appear before my Eyes? 
And who inhabit 'em? or Beasts of Prey,
 Or Men, less kind, and crueller than they? 

To whom the Matron: Fly, nor dare to trust. 
The faithless People of this hated Coast:
 Here Sailers oft their hapless Fate deplore;
 Who scape the Seas, are wreck'd upon the Shore:
 For, when the forceful Wind, and foaming Deep,
 To this inhuman Coast impel the Ship;
 Around the Beach the rude Barbarians stray,
 Destroy the Mariners, and seize their Prey;
 By others Death, they keep themselves alive,
 Subsist by Rapine, and by Ruin thrive. 

UNHAPPY Fate! the mourning Nymph reply'd;
 O! had I perish'd in the safer Tide! 
For much I fear, the Land I now survey,
 Dooms me to greater Evils, than the Sea:
 And yet what greater Ills can Fate provide,
 Than thus to seek for Death, and be deny'd? 
Not so my FELIX scap'd the raging Waves;
 Him NEPTUNE sunk, and me unkindly saves;
 Saves, only to increase my former Woes;
 To fall, perhaps, by more ungen'rous Foes;
 Or to indulge some lustful Tyrant's Will:
 But, O ye Heav'ns! avert the fatal Ill;
 Protect my Honour in this foreign Coast,
 The only Blessing which I have not lost! 

THE list'ning Matron wonders with Surprize;
 Nor hears, unmov'd, the weeping Damsel's Cries:
 But leads her to her neighb'ring Cottage, where
 She chears her fainting Soul with homely Fare;
 Condoles her Grief, and begs her to disclose
 Her Country, Cares, and Cause of all her Woes. 
Excited by her Words, the pensive Maid
 Preludes with Sighs, and thus, reluctant, said:

O hospitable Dame! why would you move
 A Wretch to tell a Tale of hapless Love? 
Which, in relating, must renew my Grief;
 Nor can I hope, nor you bestow, Relief:
 Yet, since you seem a Partner of my Care,
 'Tis just a Partner know the Weight I bear. 

NOT far from Aetna's flaming Mount I came,
 From Liparis, and CONSTANCE is my Name:
 Great Honours and Estates my Sire possess'd,
 And, O! too much to make his Daughter bless'd. 
I once with Fame and Fortune was supply'd,
 Nor envy'd Empresses their Pomp and Pride;
 Now, like a Meteor, fallen from its Height,
 My Glory's vanish'd, and extinct my Light —
 Full twenty Years in Happiness I pass'd,
 And ev'ry Year was happier than the last. 
Young FELIX then his Love began to show;
 (Young FELIX was the Cause of all my Woe)
 A beauteous Youth, endow'd with manly Grace;
 But far his noble Soul excell'd his Face:
 And, tho' his niggard Fate had Wealth deny'd,
 The Want of Wealth by Virtue was supply'd. 
Two Years to win my doubtful Heart he strove,
 Two Years my doubtful Heart declin'd his Love:
 Yet still he press'd me with his am'rous Tale,
 Nor found at length, 'twas fruitless to assail:
 For, by degrees, insensibly I came
 To first approve, and then indulge, his Flame;
 Nor could his Suit, nor would his Vows reprove;
 I heard with Joy, nor thought it Sin to love;
 Till in my Breast imperious CUPID reign'd:
 Alas! how easy Love a Conquest gain'd! 
And now my Reason check'd my Will no more;
 But fed the Flame, it strove to quench before:
 Yet durst not an immodest Thought approve;
 Love rul'd my Heart, but Honour rul'd my Love:
 I scorn'd to stain my Virtue with a King;
 As much my Lover scorn'd so mean a thing. 
What could we do? What cannot Love inspire? 
The Youth reveals his Passion to my Sire;
 And in such melting Accents made it known,
 As might have mov'd all Fathers, but my own:
 But proudly he my Lover's Suit repell'd;
 And, frowning, thus our mutual Ruin seal'd:

No more, presumptuous Youth! thy Passion name;
 Suppress the Sparks, before they rise to Flame. 
How dar'st thou, vulgar Wretch, ignobly born,
 My Daughter's Scandal, and her Father's Scorn! 
Aspire to wed so far above thy Fate? 
He sternly said, and forc'd him from his Gate. 

O Avarice! what Evils dost thou cause,
 Breaking the Bands of Love, and Nature's Laws? 
Go, hungry God! and rule the Narrow-soul'd;
 Collect, and guard their curst, bewitching Gold;
 Fit Province for thy Reign! too mean to prove
 The Charms of Nuptial Life, and Joys of Love! 
Ah! what avails to gain a pompous Name,
 With boasted Titles of paternal Fame,
 Deriv'd from Ancestors of noble Blood? 
Things common to the Vicious, and the Proud! 
Refulgent Equipage, and gaudy Shows,
 Fictitious Ornaments of real Woes! 
If Love be absent, Pomp and worldly Gain
 But gild our Cares, and varnish o'er our Pain. 
O! had my cruel Father thought like me,
 I ne'er had prov'd the Dangers of the Sea,
 Nor ever wander'd here a banish'd Maid;
 And, O dear FELIX! thou hadst not been dead! —

So speaks the trembling Nymph; and, while she speaks,
 The pearly Torrents stream adown her Cheeks;
 Cold clammy Sweats, and throbbing Sighs arise,
 Slow moves the Blood, and dizzy roll her Eyes;
 So much affected with her Lover's Fate,
 She struggled, groan'd, and fainted from her Seat. 
Her Hostess straight a grateful Cordial sought,
 And to her Lips applies the chearful Draught,
 Washing her Temples with reviving Oil;
 The vital Spirits answer to her Toil;
 The purple Tide begins to roll again,
 Again diffuses Life thro' ev'ry Vein:
 And now she sighing, rais'd her drooping Head;
 And, Is my Death, she cries, again delay'd? 
Why did you check me on the Brink of Fate? 
Better the Soul had fled her loathsome Seat. 
Death is the only Good I wish to know,
 End of my Pain, and Period of my Woe. 

To whom replies the Dame: Unhappy Fair! 
Rely on Heav'n, nor let your Soul despair:
 Teach me to give your troubled Heart Relief;
 Or teach me how, at least, to share your Grief:
 Your mournful Story much affects my Mind;
 Yet something seems remaining still behind. 

O! much, CONSTANTIA says, remains to come,
 The fatal Part, that finishes my Doom:
 For, when my FELIX, (FELIX now no more!) 
Was banish'd from my haughty Father's Door,
 Not able to obtain me for his Bride,
 Nor willing to resign me, tho' deny'd;
 Hope, from Despair, his daring Soul conceives;
 A Bark he builds, to plough the briny Waves:
 Then call'd a few Domestics to his Aid,
 Embrac'd me in his Arms, and sighing, said:

O Thou, for ever dear, for ever blest,
 At once the Joy, and Trouble of my Breast! 
Since Poverty expels me from thy Arms,
 Since Wealth alone is worthy of thy Charms;
 I swear by all the mighty Pow'rs above,
 (Sad Fate, that drives me from the Nymph I love!) 
To try my Fortune on remoter Shores,
 And seek the Gold, thy Sire so much adores. 
Perhaps the Planets, unpropitious here,
 In other Climes may kinder Aspects wear;
 May lead me where the rocky Di'monds lie,
 Or where the golden Mines may Wealth supply;
 If not, the last sad Pleasure is to die. 

SUCH was the fatal Vow he rashly made;
 O fatal Vow, and fatally obey'd! 
Struck dumb, my Tears the want of Words supply'd;
 His, mixt with mine, increas'd the pearly Tide:
 Yet, lest I should his Resolution shake,
 He rush'd away, and mounted on the Deck:
 His hasty Crew expand the swelling Sails,
 Strong rolls the Sea before impulsive Gales;
 The crooked Keel the frothy Flood divides,
 Swift flies the Ship, and rushes thro' the Tides. 

MY Lover long my gazing Eyes pursue;
 As long my Lover kept me in his View:
 Reluctant so, departing Souls prepare
 To wing their doubtful Flight, they know not where;
 Reluctant so, expiring Bodies lie,
 Nor willing these to stay, nor those to fly. 

TWICE twenty Days I spent in fruitless Tears,
 Before the fatal Tidings reach'd my Ears;
 How FELIX, sailing o'er the watry Way,
 Was wreck'd on Rocks, and perish'd in the Sea. 
O! then what Trouble, Grief, and anxious Care,
 Confus'd my Soul, and bent it to Despair! 
I curs'd the Cause, that forc'd him to expire;
 O Heav'n! forgive me, if I curs'd my Sire:
 I fled his House, and sought the lonely Grove,
 (The gloomy Witness of my former Love!) 
Where, once resolv'd to seek the Shades below,
 I drew the Knife, to strike the mortal Blow;
 Till Piety the cruel Thought supprest,
 And check'd the Roman Courage of my Breast:
 I trembling saw two doubtful Paths; nor knew,
 Which Path was best to shun, or which pursue;
 Opposing Passions in my Bosom strove,
 And Conscience now prevail'd, and now my Love. 

As when the Wind and Tide a Contest make,
 The Sailer, trembling, sees his Vessel shake;
 This way, and that, and both, by turns reclin'd,
 As swells the Surge, or blows the furious Wind:
 So was my Soul with diff'rent Notions sway'd,
 Of this, of that, of both, and all, afraid. 
Ah! why should Mortals of their Reason boast,
 Which most deserts 'em, when they want it most? 
For, when the troubled Mind's confus'd with Pain,
 'Tis but an Ignis-fatuus of the Brain;
 Which, if our wand'ring Souls from Virtue stray,
 But leads us more and more from Virtue's Way:
 So led it me to stem the devious Tide,
 And seek for Death, where wretched FELIX dy'd. 

NOT distant far, a fishing Vessel stood,
 Nor wholly on the Land, nor in the Flood:
 Arriv'd to this, I row'd it from the Shore;
 And, bent on Death, the Tide I now explore;
 Expecting, soon, the friendly-furious Wave
 Would give my Troubles and myself a Grave. 
But, when I saw the Billows round me flow,
 The boundless Skies above, and Seas below;
 Scar'd with the Terrors of the watry Space,
 I wrapt my Mantle round my tim'rous Face:
 Then lay me down, to all the Dangers blind;
 Chance was my Compass, and my Pilot, Wind. 
Blown here and there, I floated on the Deep,
 Which rock'd my Eyes, but not my Fears, asleep:
 For now my dreaming Soul, in Fancy's Maze,
 A thousand tragic airy Ghosts surveys;
 Which flutter'd round me, and reproaching, said;
 Die, Coward! follow FELIX to the Shade:
 Why wouldst thou wish to live, now he is dead? 
But when, at length, your friendly Voice I heard,
 My Vision ceas'd, the Spectres disappear'd. 
Thus have I told, but can't dispel my Care;
 For who can conquer Love, or cure Despair? 

THUS she; and thus CAPRESA spake again:
 (So was she call'd, who wak'd her on the Main)
 Unhappy Nymph! compose your troubled Mind,
 Nor doubt the gracious Guide of human Kind:
 That GOD, who sav'd you from the foamy Wave,
 Will doubtless guard the Life, he deign'd to save. 
Vouchsafe to take the Counsel I can lend:
 At Susa Heav'n has blest me with a Friend,
 Much fam'd for Wealth, for pious Actions more;
 No Husband, and no Children, but the Poor:
 Let me conduct you to her friendly Gate;
 (Too small my Cottage for a Guest so great)
 She will protect you from Barbarian Foes,
 With prudent Counsel mitigate your Woes,
 And charm your ruffled Soul to soft Repose. 

BLEST Partner of my Grief! the Damsel said,
 Some Angel surely sent you to my Aid;
 For now some dawning Rays of Hope appear,
 That chase away the Clouds of dark Despair. 
This Pause of Pain, and Interval of Grace,
 Shall be employ'd in Search of future Peace. 
Then guide, and guard me to your noble Friend;
 So may you never want this Aid you lend! 
And, as we travel, deign to let me know,
 To whom so many Thanks I justly owe;
 What hapless Fortune cast you on this Land,
 What Occupation here employs your Hand. 
Sweet Conversation may suspend my Care,
 Dispel my Grief, or make it less severe:
 So shall I easier reach the neighb'ring Town;
 And, list'ning to your Fate, forget my own. 

THUS she; and thus the pensive Dame replies:
 (With briny Drops distilling from her Eyes)
 Fain would I, lovely Nymph! suspend your Care,
 Dispel your Grief, or make it less severe:
 But, were I all my Fortune to explain,
 'Twould not alleviate, but increase your Pain;
 For in your Soul such Sparks of Nature glow,
 As make you share your Neighbour's Joy or Woe. 
The Christian Faith I secretly embrace,
 Tho' doom'd to dwell among a Pagan Race:
 Trepanum wasted all my Bloom of Life,
 Where long I liv'd, a Farmer's happy Wife:
 My careful, loving Husband till'd the Soil,
 Nor was the Field ungrateful to his Toil:
 For, ev'ry Summer, CERES crown'd the Plain;
 Each Autumn, fill'd the Barn with golden Grain:
 So thick the verdant Harvest yearly stood,
 The Meadows seem'd to groan beneath their Load. 
Our fleecy Flocks were fruitful of their Young,
 Hail were our Oxen, and our Horses strong;
 Nor did our Kine of milky Produce fail,
 But with distended Udders fill'd the Pail. 
'Twas then, alas! how often have I cry'd,
 I would not wish to be a Monarch's Bride! 
When all around my little Infants came,
 Hung on my Knees, and lisp'd their Mama's Name;
 Or met their Father with the Ev'ning Ray,
 Embrac'd his Neck, and kiss'd his Cares away. 
Soon as their riper Age could Labour bear,
 We sent 'em forth to feed the fleecy Care;
 Where often have we spent the Summer's Day,
 Charm'd to behold the wanton Cattle's Play. 
What Pleasure 'twas to see the skipping Lambs? 
What Music, when they bleated for their Dams? 
We thought our Joys could never be increas'd;
 Love, Peace, and Plenty join'd to make us bless'd. 
But see how Fortune holds her fickle Reign! 
She raises up, to tumble down again:
 For now our Thread of Happiness was spun;
 The Gains of twenty Years were lost in one. 
'Twas in the Season, when the verdant Mead
 Begins to ask the Mower's crooked Blade;
 Before the Wheat receives the yellow Stain,
 Or milky Juice is harden'd into Grain;
 A Gale of Poison baleful EURUS cast;
 The vernal Product sicken'd with the Blast;
 Our Meadows straight a saffron Scene disclose,
 Our infant Apples quit the blighted Boughs;
 Pease, Wheat, and Barley, wither'd in the Fields,
 And Nature one abortive Harvest yields:
 Nor stopt it here; the flying Plague began
 To spread the Bane in Beasts, and thence to Man:
 First dy'd our Sheep upon the russet Plain,
 Next swell'd our Oxen with a fatal Blain;
 Here tumbles, o'er her Meat, the moping Cow;
 There drops the panting Horse before the Plough:
 At length the dire Contagion spread so wide,
 My Virgin Children made the Tomb their Bride. 
This Nature bore — But when our Landlord sent
 His Officers, to seize my Lord for Rent;
 And he, to shun the Prison, flies the Shore;
 Lists on the Sea, to tug the lab'ring Oar;
 I wept, I rav'd, I curs'd the baleful Air;
 And fled my native Land, but not my Care. 
Thus, banish'd here, a Widow, and a Wife,
 Condemn'd to suffer, not enjoy a Life,
 I toil for those, who catch the finny Prey;
 The Toils are great, but very small the Pay! 
Their scaly Fry to Market oft I bear,
 Oft in the Ocean wash their thready Snare;
 And then was washing, when, with great Surprize,
 You, and your floating Vessel, met my Eyes. 

NOW Heav'n defend us both! the Nymph reply'd;
 And can such Rage in Christian Minds reside? 
What, could the curst, inhuman Tyrant wrest
 Thy tender Husband from thy loving Breast,
 When all thy Wealth was lost, thy Children dead? 
O Virtue! Virtue! whither art thou fled? 
Why must such Evils on the Guiltless flow? 
Ye Heav'ns! is Innocence rewarded so? 

SO spake the Nymph; her Friend no more replies;
 For now PRISCILLA's Dome attracts their Eyes:
 Approaching to her friendly Gate, they found
 The gen'rous Lady dealing Alms around
 To needy Souls, a hapless, helpless Crowd,
 Who daily bless'd her Hand for daily Food! 
When thus CAPRESA: Hail, for ever bless'd! 
'Tis Godlike thus to succour the Distress'd:
 Yet none of these, who claim your Christian Aid,
 Deserves it more than this unhappy Maid;
 Who once was bless'd with Fame and Riches too,
 Tho' fickle Fortune now is turn'd her Foe;
 Unlike the Mendicants, who daily share
 Your friendly Bounty, and maternal Care. 

TO whom the Lady, with a gracious Look,
 That seem'd to breathe Compassion, while she spoke:
 Sure Decency forbids, a Guest so great
 Should, undistinguish'd, with the Vulgar eat. 
No; deck my Table with the choicest Fare;
 The Nymph, with me, a kind Repast shall share;
 For, by her Looks if Truth may be divin'd,
 That lovely Body cloaths a lovely Mind. 

SHE said, and CONSTANCE low Obeisance made;
 Then gladly follow'd, where PRISCILLA led. 
Within the Gate a spacious Room she found,
 Whose Walls were beautify'd with Tap'stry round;
 Where pious Tales appear'd, so lively wrought,
 The Work seem'd vital, and the Figures Thought:
 Here, in the Shade, the Jewish Patriarch stood,
 Feasting the Sons of Heav'n with earthly Food;
 While, there, the good Samaritan confest
 His Kindness, and reproach'd the cruel Priest;
 With many more, a charitable Band,
 The skilful Labour of PRISCILLA's Hand. 

HITHER the Dame convey'd a sweet Repast;
 Rich Meats, and rosy Wines the Table grac'd:
 They eat, they drank, in pleasing Converse join'd;
 And chear'd at once the Body and the Mind. 
The Call of Nature being soon supprest,
 Thus spake the Lady to her youthful Guest:

SAY, lovely Stranger! (for I long to know;
 So may propitious Heav'n remove thy Woe!) 
Whence thus reduc'd? By Famine, Sword, or Fire? 
What Sire thy Beauty boasts, what Land thy Sire? 
Perhaps some Princess, banish'd from her Home,
 Thus condescends to grace my rustic Dome:
 If so, I greatly fear, my homely Feast
 Has been unworthy of my Royal Guest. 

SHE said, the Nymph unfolds her Tale again;
 The prudent Dame attempts to sooth her Pain,
 And thus reply'd: Tho' weighty are your Woes,
 The weightiest Ill, with Patience, lighter grows:
 Then bear with Patience all that Heav'n design'd,
 Whose Ways are just, tho' difficult to find,
 Plann'd for the gen'ral Good of Human Kind. 
God's Paths in winding Mazes often lie,
 Too intricate for feeble Reason's Eye;
 Most regular, when in Confusion lost;
 Most constant, when they seem to vary most. 
Perhaps his Mercy forc'd you thus to roam,
 To shun a more unhappy Fate at home;
 For with one Evil he removes a worse,
 And blesses oft with what we think a Curse. 
Then let your Soul at Fortune not repine;
 But trust in Heav'n's Protection, next, in mine:
 In me you still shall find a faithful Friend,
 With whom, in time, your Troubles all may end:
 But, since you now are harass'd out with Woes,
 Refresh your weary Soul with sweet Repose;
 And when you wake, at Morning, may you find
 Heav'n's balmy Comfort heal your wounded Mind! 

THUS chear'd, the Nymph obsequiously withdrew,
 And bath'd her Cares in Sleep's refreshing Dew;
 Till PHOEBUS, rising from the Shades of Night,
 With rosy Keys unlock'd the Gates of Light:
 Bright as his Beams, arose the beauteous Maid;
 And, to her Patroness returning, said:

WHAT Thanks, propitious Lady! shall I give
 For all the Godlike Bounties I receive? 
O! let my Silence thank you; for I know,
 Words can't express the Gratitude I owe. 

To whom replies the venerable Dame:
 No other Thanks, but Gratitude, I claim:
 The Terms of Charity are never hard,
 Love and Compassion are their own Reward:
 A Soul, that succours Virtue, when distrest,
 Can with Reflection make a noble Feast;
 Which nourishes the Mind, and overpays
 A gen'rous Deed with self-approving Praise. 

SUCH was their Converse, till domestic Care
 Invites PRISCILLA from the youthful Fair;
 Who sat in pensive Solitude, and strove
 To soften, or suspend the Pains of Love. 
At length the Linen on her Knee she spread,
 And with her Needle work'd the docile Thread. 
Young THISBE's Fate she first began to frame;
 But soon commits her Labour to the Flame:
 Next drew she HERO sinking in the Main;
 Then raz'd the finish'd Image out again:
 Both these displeas'd her, tho' judicious Art,
 And Rays of Nature shone in ev'ry Part. 
At length her own unhappy Tale she chose,
 And lively paints the Scene of all her Woes:
 Her charming FELIX first the Linen grac'd;
 By whom her Father, frowning stern, she plac'd:
 Her Lover's Parting next to these appears;
 (But, weeping here, she soil'd her Work with Tears)
 Next, on the Seas, she drew her floating Ship;
 Next, her own Boat, slow-wand'ring o'er the Deep:
 By these she fix'd CAPRESA on the Strand,
 Who wak'd her first, and welcom'd her to Land:
 The good PRISCILLA last employ'd her Art,
 Whose Aspect spoke the Bounty of her Heart;
 Her friendly Roof, a Refuge for the Poor,
 The Horn of Plenty, pendent o'er the Door,
 Diffusing Blessings still, and still increasing more. 
All these confest such Beauty, Skill, and Care,
 Not HELEN better wove the Trojan War,
 While HECTOR, PARIS, and their Martial Train,
 With Grecian Heroes battled on the Plain. 

HERE let us leave the lovely Nymph a-while,
 To pass her tedious Hours in pleasing Toil:
 Her absent Lover now my Song pursues,
 Whose valiant Deeds require a nobler Muse. 

SWIFT-PINION'D FAME, which often babbling flies,
 To bear unwelcome Truths, and oft'ner Lyes,
 Had spread the ductile Error far and wide,
 How wand'ring FELIX perish'd in the Tide. 
But FELIX safely reach'd the Thunic Port,
 And soon arriv'd to Honours in the Court:
 His Wisdom there the wisest Peers excell'd;
 His Valour more surpass'd 'em in the Field. 
When first he to the Royal Palace came,
 An Accident occurr'd to raise his Fame:
 A noble Lord there was, of great Renown,
 Rebell'd against the King, and claim'd his Crown:
 Great Preparations made he for the Fight;
 Nor less the Monarch, to defend his Right;
 But summon'd all, to meet the daring Foe,
 Whose Strength could wield a Sword, or bend a Bow;
 And promis'd to reward their Martial Care,
 With Honours equal to their Deeds in War. 

Now rings the Region with the Foe's Alarms,
 Terrific shines the Field with burnish'd Arms;
 The Martial Trumpet, sounding from afar,
 With dreadful Notes, proclaims approaching War. 
The Royal Army valiant FELIX join'd;
 Intrepid Courage animates his Mind:
 Fix'd in the Front, the Foe he bravely dares,
 Like PALLAS prudent, and as bold as MARS. 
Say, Muse, What Goddess, that tremendous Hour,
 Aided the Youth with such unusual Pow'r? 
Bright VENUS, conscious of the Lover's Smart,
 Sharpen'd his Sword, and pointed ev'ry Dart:
 Fierce, as a Lion, thro' the Lines he sprung;
 And forc'd his Foes, like trembling Stags, along. 

As when resistless Winds rush o'er the Deep,
 And from its Anchor force the driving Ship,
 Or furiously against the Woodland roar;
 The leafy Harvest, tumbling, flies before:
 So rush'd the Hero on the adverse Band,
 So fled the Legions from his pow'rful Hand;
 Till soon the rebel Lord he Pris'ner made,
 And to the King his captive Prize convey'd

Now reaps the Youth the Glory of his Toil;
 To him the Monarch gives the Martial Spoil,
 Rewards his Valour with a noble Post,
 And makes him First Commander of his Host. 
Thus, quickly FELIX gain'd a deathless Name;
 Thus, was his Labour crown'd with Wealth and Fame:
 But Wealth and Fame insipid Things appear;
 To give them Taste, he wants the lovely Fair;
 The lovely Fair, opprest with equal Grief,
 To make her happy, wants the glorious Chief. 

HIS Fame, which soon at Susa was reveal'd,
 (Heroic Actions seldom lie conceal'd)
 With pleasing Wonder struck CONSTANTIA's Ears,
 And fill'd her doubtful Soul with Hopes and Fears:
 For, tho' the wise PRISCILLA often strove
 With prudent Counsel to suppress her Love;
 Her Love was only lessen'd, not supprest;
 But glows again, again distracts her Breast. 

AS when, in rural Cots, the Flames aspire,
 And lab'ring Peasants quench the mounting Fire:
 If chance a latent Spark remain behind,
 In heapy Ashes, fann'd with ambient Wind;
 The Fires again, with former Fury, rise,
 Flame thro' the Roof, and flash into the Skies:
 So in her Bosom glows the am'rous Fire,
 And fills her tender Soul with soft Desire. 
And is my FELIX yet alive? she says;
 And is he crown'd with Wealth, and deathless Praise? 
No, no; I fear the flatt'ring Tale deceives;
 Methinks I see him plunging in the Waves. 
Ah! why, ye Heav'ns, are feeble Mortals curst,
 In Things uncertain, to believe the worst? 
No; rather let me seek the Thunic Court;
 There, with my Eyes, confirm the blest Report:
 Hope flies before, and points the pleasing Way;
 Love urges on, and Love I must obey. 

SO saying, to PRISCILLA straight she came,
 And with her Thoughts acquaints the pious Dame;
 The pious Dame, with tender Pity sway'd,
 Approves the Passion of the loving Maid;
 And, with CAPRESA, guards her to the Place,
 Resolv'd herself to view the Hero's Face. 
The Hero meets 'em at the Regal Gate,
 Array'd in Armour, formidably great;
 For on that Morning, by the King's Command,
 The Chief was to review the Martial Band:
 His studded Chariot darted Splendor round,
 His stately Coursers, neighing, paw'd the Ground;
 The nodding Plumes around his Temples wave,
 With awful Grace, and beautifully brave. 
He knew th'approaching Nymph; but, in Surprize,
 The joyous Stream descended from his Eyes:
 The Nymph beheld the weeping Chief; nor knew,
 For what he wept, nor whom she came to view:
 His Martial Dress, bespangled o'er with Gold,
 The dreadful Warrior, not the Lover, told:
 But, when he cast the Helmet from his Head,
 And thro' the Gates the blushing Damsel led;
 She knew her Lover, clasp'd him to her Breast,
 While silent Eloquence her Joy confest:
 The conscious Pains an absent Lover bears,
 Despair, fallacious Hope, and anxious Fears,
 For want of Words, were painted with their Tears. 
And when, at length, their crystal Sluices ceas'd,
 The joyful Hero thus the Nymph address'd:

YE Gods! and have I then my Charmer found? 
And are my Labours thus completely crown'd! 
Yes! let me clasp thee to my longing Arms,
 Drink in thy Breath, and feed upon thy Charms. 
As widow'd Turtles, roving round the Fields,
 Thro' all the fruitful Stores, which Nature yields,
 Curst in the midst of Plenty, cannot eat;
 But starve, lamenting for their absent Mate:
 Thus have I been with Fame and Riches grac'd;
 Yet wanted thee, to give my Riches Taste. 
But say, how came this Wealth I wanted most? 
What brought my Love to this Barbarian Coast? 

HE said; and now the joyful Damsel spake
 The Dangers which she suffer'd for his sake;
 Shews him the Dame, who found her on the Tide;
 PRISCILLA too, who all her Wants supply'd:
 Then, prostrate, on her Knees before him bends,
 And begs him to reward her faithful Friends. 
The grateful Chief, by native Goodness sway'd,
 Embrac'd 'em both, and soon the Nymph obey'd;
 But first before his Royal Master came,
 And begs he may resign his Post of Fame:
 At which the Monarch frowns with awful Eyes,
 Till FELIX straight, who saw his Passion rise,
 Falls on the Ground, and to his Master shows
 The various Scene of all his am'rous Woes. 
This heard, the King resumes his former Grace;
 Love tun'd his Soul, and smooth'd his ruffled Face:
 He rais'd the Hero, bids the Nymph appear;
 The Nymph approach'd him with a modest Fear;
 Before his awful Throne, submiss, she fell,
 And to him straight unfolds th'amazing Tale. 
Mute, on the Ground a-while he fix'd his Eyes;
 Then, Is the Force of Love so great? he cries:
 We falsely Man the World's Commander call;
 Thou, mightier Monarch, Love! commandest All:
 Young AMMON's Self could not thy Pow'r confine;
 The World his Subject was, but He was thine. 

THEN, smiling, thus he chear'd the trembling Fair:
 Henceforward, lovely Nymph, dismiss thy Care;
 For, since thy Love has conquer'd Wind and Sea,
 Curst be the King, that's crueller than they! 
Let HYMEN straight confirm the Marriage Ties;
 Thou justly hast deserv'd the Nuptial Prize. 

THUS said, he crown'd the Hero's Martial Care,
 With Riches far superior to the Fair:
 Due Thanks return'd, they to PRISCILLA came,
 Bestowing Gifts and Honours on the Dame:
 CAPRESA next, with Age and Labour worn,
 In comely Robes the grateful Pair adorn;
 With ample Wealth her former Bliss restor'd,
 And from the Seas redeem'd her Nuptial Lord;
 Her Nuptial Lord again enjoys his Wife,
 Again delightful Freedom crowns his Life;
 Till Nature calls him to resign his Breath,
 In honourable Age, and peaceful Death. 

THIS done, the loving Couple quit the Shore,
 And joyfully the destin'd Port explore;
 While sportive NEREIDS round their Vessel play,
 And wanton CUPIDS hail 'em on their Way;
 Rough THETIS' Self assumes a pleasing Smile,
 Glad to return 'em to their native Soil;
 Where sacred HYMEN join'd their mutual Hands,
 And Heav'n, indulgent, bless'd their Nuptial Bands.