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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=457147" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Henry And Emma. A Poem.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown Maid. To Cloe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command<br>(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand.<br>I take the sprightly reed, and sing and play,<br>Careless of what the censuring world may say;<br>Bright Cloe! object of my constant vow,<br>Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow?<br>Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,<br>And with one heavenly smile o'erpay his pains?<br>No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old,<br>Though since her youth three hundred years have roll'd:<br>At thy desire she shall again be raised,<br>And her reviving charms in lasting verse be praised.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No longer man of woman shall complain,<br>That he may love and not be loved again; <br>That we in vain the fickle sex pursue,<br>Who change the constant lover for the new.<br>Whatever has been writ, whatever said<br>Henceforth shall in my verse refuted stand,<br>Be said to winds, or writ upon the sand:<br>And while my notes to future times proclaim<br>Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame,<br>O, fairest of the sex, be thou my muse;<br>Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse:<br>Let me partake the blessings I rehearse,<br>And grant me love, the just reward of verse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As beauty's potent queen with every grace<br>That once was Emma's has adorn'd thy face,<br>And as her son has to my bosom dealt<br>That constant flame which faithful Henry felt,<br>O let the story with thy life agree,<br>Let men once more the bright example see;<br>What Emma was to him be thou to me:<br>Nor send me by thy frown from her I love,<br>Distant and sad, a banish'd man to rove:<br>But, oh! with pity long entreated crown<br>My pains and hopes: and when thou say'st that one<br>Of all mankind thou lovest, oh! think on me alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame<br>With mingled waves for ever flow the same,<br>In times of yore an ancient baron lived,<br>Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When dreadful Edward, with successful care<br>Led his free Britons to the Gallic war,<br>This Lord had headed his appointed bands,<br>In firm allegiance to his king's commands,<br>And (all due honours faithfully discharged)<br>Had brought back his paternal coat, enlarged<br>With a new mark, the witness of his toil,<br>And no inglorious part of foreign spoil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the loud camp retired and noisy court,<br>In honourable days and rural sport<br>The remnant of his days he safely past,<br>Nor found they lagg'd too slow nor flew too fast;<br>He made his wish with his estate comply, <br>Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One child he had, a daughter, chaste and fair,<br>His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir:<br>They call'd her Emma, for the beauteous dame<br>Who gave the virgin birth had borne the name;<br>The name th' indulgent father doubly loved,<br>For in the child the mother's charms improved:<br>Yet as when little, round his knees she play'd,<br>He call'd her oft in sport his Nut-brown Maid:<br>The friends and tenants took the fondling word,<br>(As still they please who imitate their lord)<br>Usage confirm'd what fancy had begun;<br>The mutual terms around the lands were known,<br>And Emma and the Nut-brown Maid were one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As with her stature still her charms increased,<br>Through all the isle her beauty was confess'd.<br>Oh! what perfections must that virgin share,<br>Who fairest is esteem'd where all are fair?<br>From distant shires repair the noble youth,<br>And find report for once had lessen'd truth.<br>By wonder first, and then by passion moved,<br>They came, they saw, they marvell'd, and they loved.<br>By public praises and by secret sighs,<br>Each own'd the general power of Emma's eyes.<br>In tilts and tournaments the valiant strove<br>By glorious deeds to purchase Emma's love.<br>In gentle verse the witty told their flame,<br>And graced their choicest songs with Emma's name.<br>In vain they combated, in vain they writ,<br>Useless their strength, and impotent their wit:<br>Great Venus only must direct the dart,<br>Which else will never reach the fair one's heart,<br>Spite of th' attempt of force and soft effects of art:<br>Great Venus must prefer the happy one;<br>In Henry's cause her favour must be shown,<br>And Emma, of mankind, must love but him alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While these in public to the castle came<br>And by their grandeur justified their flame,<br>More secret ways the careful Henry takes; <br>His squires, his arms, and equipage forsakes.<br>In borrow'd name and false attire array'd, <br>Oft he finds means to see the beauteous maid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Emma hunts, in huntsman's habit dress'd,<br>Henry on foot pursues the bounding beast;<br>In his right hand his beachen pole he bears,<br>And grateful at his side his horn he wears.<br>Still to the glade where she has bent her way<br>With knowing skill he drives the future prey;<br>Bids her decline the hill and shun the brake,<br>And shows the path her steed may safest take;<br>Directs her spear to fix the glorious wound,<br>Pleased in his toil, to have her triumphs crown'd, <br>And blows her praises in no common sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A falconer Henry is when Emma hawks,<br>With her of tarsels and of lures he talks.<br>Upon his wrist the towering merlin stands,<br>Practised to rise and stoop at her commands:<br>And when superior now the bird has flown,<br>And headlong brought the tumbling quarry down,<br>With humble reverence he accosts the fair, <br>And with the honour'd feather decks her hair.<br>Yet still as from the sportive field she goes,<br>His downcast eye reveals his inward woes;<br>And by his look and sorrow is express'd,<br>A nobler game pursued than bird or beast<br>A shepherd now along the plain he roves,<br>And with his jolly pipe delights the groves.<br>The neighbouring swains around the stranger throng,<br>Or to admire or emulate his song;<br>While with soft sorrow he renews his lays,<br>Nor heedful of their envy nor their praise:<br>But soon as Emma's eyes adorn the plain,<br>His notes he raises to a nobler strain.<br>With dutiful respect and studious fear,<br>Lest any careless sound offend her ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A frantic gypsy now the house he haunts,<br>And in wild phrases speaks dissembled wants.<br>With the fond maids in psalmistry he deals:<br>They tell the secret first which he reveals:<br>Says who shall wed, and who shall be beguiled;<br>What groom shall get, and squire maintain, the child; <br>But when Bright Emma would her fortune know,<br>A softer look unbends his opening brow:<br>With trembling awe he gazes on her eye,<br>And in soft accents forms the kind reply.<br>That she shall prove as fortunate fair,<br>And Hymen's choicest gifts are all reserved for her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now oft had Henry changed his sly disguise,<br>Unmark'd by all but beauteous Emma's eyes;<br>Oft had found means alone to see the dame,<br>And at her feet to breathe his amorous flame;<br>And oft the pangs of absence to remove<br>By letters, soft interpreters of love.<br>Till time and industry (the mighty wo<br>That bring our wishes nearer to our view)<br>Made him perceive that the inclining fair<br>Received his vows with no reluctant ear;<br>That Venus had confirm'd her equal reign,<br>And dealt to Emma's heart a share of Henry's pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While Cupid smiled, by kind occasion bless'd,<br>And with the secret kept the love increased,<br>The amorous youth frequents the silent groves,<br>And much he meditates, for much he loves.<br>He loves, 'tis true, and is beloved again;<br>Great are his joys, but will they long remain?<br>Emma with smiles receives his present flame,<br>But, smiling, will she ever be the same?<br>Beautiful looks are ruled by fickle minds,<br>And summer seas are turn'd by sudden winds:<br>Another love may gain her easy youth;<br>Time changes thought, and flattery conquers truth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O impotent estate of human life!<br>Where hope and fear maintain eternal strife;<br>Where fleeting joy does lasting doubt inspire,<br>And most we question what we most desire.<br>Amongst thy various gifts, great heaven, bestow<br>Our cup of life unmix'd; forbear to throw<br>Bitter ingredients in, nor pall the draught<br>With nauseous grief; for our ill-judging thought<br>Hardly enjoys the pleasurable taste,<br>Or deems it not sincere, or fears it cannot last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With wishes raised, with jealousies oppress'd,<br>(Alternate tyrants of the human breast)<br>By one great trial he resolves to prove<br>The faith of woman and the force of love:<br>If scanning Emma's virtues, he may find<br>That beauteous frame enclose a steady mind, <br>He'll fix his hope of future joy secure,<br>And live a slave to Hymen's happy power;<br>But if the fair one, as he fears, is frail,<br>If poised aright in reason's equal scale,<br>Light fly her merits, and her faults prevail.<br>His mind he vows to free from amorous care,<br>The latent mischief from his heart to tear,<br>Resume his azure arms, and shine again in war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">South of the castle, in a verdant glade,<br>A spreading beech extends her friendly shade;<br>Here oft the nymph his breathing vows had heard:<br>Here oft her silence had her heart declared.<br>An active spring awaked her infant buds,<br>And genial life inform'd the verdant woods,<br>Henry in knots involving Emma's name,<br>Had half express'd and half conceal'd his flame<br>Upon this tree; and as the tender mark<br>Grew with the year, and, widen'd with the bark, <br>Venus had heard the virgin's soft address,<br>That, as the wound, the passion might increase.<br>As potent Nature shed her kindly showers,<br>And deck'd the various mead with opening flowers,<br>Upon this tree the nymph's obliging care<br>Had left a frequent wreath for Henry's hair,<br>Which as with gay delight the lover found,<br>Pleased with his conquest, with her present crown'd,<br>Glorious through all the plains he oft had gone,<br>And to each swain the mystic honour shown,<br>The gift still praised, the giver still unknown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His secret note the troubled Henry writes;<br>To the known tree the lovely maid invites:<br>Imperfect words and dubious terms express<br>That unforeseen mischance disturb'd his peace<br>That he must something to her ear commend,<br>On which her conduct and his life depend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon as the fair one had the note received,<br>The remnant of the day alone she grieved;<br>For different this from every former note<br>Which Venus dictated and Henry wrote;<br>Which told her all his future hopes were laid<br>On the dear bosom of his Nut-brown Maid;<br>Which always bless'd her eyes and own'd her power,<br>And bid her oft adieu, yet added more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now night advanced: the house in sleep were laid,<br>The nurse experienced, and the prying maid;<br>And, last, that sprite which does incessant haunt<br>The lover's steps, the ancient maiden aunt,<br>To her dear Henry Emma wings her way,<br>With quicken'd pace repairing forced delay:<br>For love fantastic power that is afraid<br>To stir abroad till watchfulness be laid,<br>Undaunted then o'er cliffs and valleys strays,<br>And leads his votaries safe through pathless ways.<br>Not Argus with his hundred eyes shall find<br>Where Cupid goes, though he poor guide is blind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The maiden first arriving, sent her eye<br>To ask if yet its chief delight were nigh:<br>With fear and with desire, with joy and pain<br>She sees, and runs to meet him on the plain;<br>But, oh! his steps proclaim no lover's haste;<br>On the low ground his fix'd regards are cast;<br>His artful bosom heaves dissembled sighs,<br>And tears suborn'd fall copious from his eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With ease, alas! we credit what we love;<br>His painted grief does real sorrow move<br>In the afflicted fair: adown her cheek<br>Trickling the genuine tears their current break!<br>Attentive stood the mountain nymph; the man<br>Broke silence first; the tale alternate ran.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>Sincere, O tell me, hast thou felt a pain,<br>Emma, beyond what woman knows to feign?<br>Has thy uncertain bosom ever strove<br>With the first tumults of a real love?<br>Hast thou now dreaded and now bless'd his sway,<br>By turns averse and joyful to obey,<br>Thy virgin softness hast thou e'er bewail'd, <br>As reason yielded and as love prevail'd?<br>And wept the potent god's resistless dart,<br>His killing pleasure, his ecstatic smart,<br>And heavenly poison thrilling through thy heart?<br>If so, with pity view my wretched state,<br>At least deplore, and then forget my fate:<br>To some more happy knight reserve thy charms,<br>By Fortune favour'd and successful arms; <br>And only as the sun's revolving ray<br>Brings back each year this melancholy day,<br>Permit one sigh, and set apart one tear<br>To an abandon'd exile's endless care,<br>For me, alas! outcast of human race,<br>Love's anger only waits and dire disgrace;<br>For, lo! these hands in murder are imbrued,<br>These trembling feet by Justice are pursued;<br>Fate calls aloud and hastens my away;<br>A shameful death attends my longer stay;<br>And I this night must fly from thee and love,<br>Condemn'd in lonely woods a banish'd man to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>What is our bliss that changeth with the moon,<br>And day of life that darkens ere 'tis noon?<br>What is true passion, if unbless'd it dies?<br>And where is Emma's joy if Henry flies?<br>If love, alas! be pain, the pain I bear<br>No thought can figure, and no tongue declare.<br>Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor false one feign'd,<br>The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd:<br>The god of love himself inhabits there,<br>With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care,<br>His complement of stores and total war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O! cease then coldly to suspect my love,<br>And let my deed, at least my faith, approve.<br>Alas! no youth shall my endearments share,<br>Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care;<br>No future story shall with truth upbraid<br>The cold indifference of the Nut-brown Maid;<br>Nor to hard banishment shall Henry run<br>While careless Emma sleeps on beds of down.<br>View me resolved where'er thou lead'st to go,<br>Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy wo;<br>For I attest fair Venus and her son,<br>That I of all mankind will love but thee alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>Let prudence yet obstruct thy venturous way,<br>And take good heed what men will think and say;<br>That beauteous Emma vagrant courses took,<br>Her father's house and civil life forsook;<br>That full of youthful blood, and fond of man, <br>She to the woodland with an exile ran.<br>Reflect, that lessen'd fame is ne'er regain'd,<br>And virgin-honour once, is always stain'd:<br>Timely advised, the coming evil shun;<br>Better not do the deed than weep it done:<br>No penance can absolve our guilty fame,<br>Nor tears, that wash out sin, can wash out shame:<br>Then fly the sad effects of desperate love,<br>And leave a banish'd man through lonely woods to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>Let Emma's hapless case be falsely told<br>By the rash young or the ill-natured old;<br>Let every tongue its various censures choose,<br>Absolve with coldness, or with spite accuse;<br>Fair Truth at last her radiant beams will raise,<br>And Malice vanquish'd heightens Virtue's praise.<br>Let then thy favour but indulge my flight,<br>O! let my presence make thy travels light,<br>And potent Venus shall exalt my name<br>Above the rumours of censorious Fame;<br>Nor from that busy demon's restless power<br>Will ever Emma other grace implore,<br>Than that this truth should to the world be known,<br>That I of all mankind have loved but thee alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>But canst thou wield the sword and bend the bow?<br>With active force repel the sturdy foe?<br>When the loud tumult speaks the battle nigh,<br>And winged deaths in whistling arrows fly,<br>Wilt thou, though wounded, yet undaunted stay,<br>Perform thy part, and share the dangerous day?<br>Then, as thy strength decays, thy heart will fail,<br>Thy limbs all trembling, and thy cheeks all pale;<br>With fruitless sorrow thou, inglorious Maid,<br>Wilt weep thy safety by thy love betray'd;<br>Then to thy friend, by foes o'ercharged, deny<br>Thy little useless aid, and coward fly;<br>Then wilt thou curse the chance that made thee love<br>A banish'd man, condemn'd in lonely woods to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>With fatal certainty Thalestris knew<br>To send the arrow from the twanging yew<br>And, great in arms, and foremost in the war,<br>Bonduca brandish'd high the British spear.<br>Could thirst of vengeance and desire of fame<br>Excite the female breast with martial flame?<br>And shall not Love's diviner power inspire<br>More hardy virtue and more generous fire?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Near thee, mistrust not, constant I'll abide,<br>And fall or vanquish, fighting by thy side.<br>Though my inferior strength may not allow<br>That I should bear or draw the warrior bow,<br>With ready hand I will the shaft supply,<br>And joy to see thy victor arrows fly.<br>Touch'd in the battle by the hostile reed,<br>Shouldst thou, (but Heaven avert it!) shouldst thou blend,<br>To stop the wounds my finest lawn I'd tear,<br>Wash them with tears, and wipe them with my hair;<br>Blest when my dangers and my toils have shown,<br>That I, of all mankind, could love but thee alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>But canst thou, tender Maid, canst thou sustain<br>Afflictive want, or hunger's pressing pain?<br>Those limbs, in lawn and softest silk array'd,<br>From sunbeams guarded, and of winds afraid,<br>Can they bear angry Jove? can they resist<br>The parching Dogstar and the bleak North-east?<br>When, chill'd by adverse snows and beating rain,<br>We tread with weary steps the longsome plain;<br>When with hard toil we seek our evening food,<br>Berries and acorns, from the neighbouring wood,<br>And find among the cliffs no other house<br>But the thin covert of some gather'd boughs,<br>Wilt thou not then reluctant send thine eye<br>Around the dreary waste, and weeping try,<br>(Though then, alas! that trial be too late)<br>To find thy father's hospitable gate,<br>And seats where Ease and Plenty brooding sate?<br>Those seats whence, long excluded, thou must mourn;<br>That gate for ever barr'd to thy return;<br>And hate baish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>Thy rise of fortune did I only wed,<br>From its decline determined to recede;<br>Did I but purpose to embark with thee<br>On the smooth surface of a summer's sea,<br>While gentle zephyrs play in prosperous gales,<br>And Fortune's favour rills the swelling sails.<br>But would forsake the ship and make the shore,<br>When the winds whistle and the tempests roar?<br>No, Henry, no: one sacred oath has tied<br>Our loves; one destiny our life shall guide<br>Nor wild nor deep our common way divide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When from the cave thou risest with the day<br>To beat the woods and rouse the bounding prey,<br>The cave with moss and branches I'll adorn,<br>And cheerful sit to wait my lord's return.<br>And when thou frequent bring'st the smitten deer,<br>(For seldom, archers say, thy arrows err)<br>I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighbouring wood,<br>And strike the sparkling flint, and dress the food:<br>With humble duty and officious haste<br>I'll cull the furthest mead for thy repast:<br>The choicest herbs I to thy board will bring,<br>And draw thy water from the freshest spring<br>And when, at night, with weary toil opprest,<br>Soft slumbers thou enjoy'st and wholesome rest,<br>Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight prayer<br>Weary the gods to keep thee in their care;<br>And joyous ask at morn's returning ray<br>If thou hast health, and I may bless the day.<br>My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend<br>On thee, guide, guardian, kinsman, father, friend<br>By all these sacred names be Henry known<br>To Emma's heart; and, grateful, let him own<br>That she, of all mankind, could love but him alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>Vainly thou tell'st me what the woman's care<br>Shall in the wilderness of the wood prepare;<br>Thou, ere thou goest, unhappiest of thy kind,<br>Must leave the habit of the sex behind.<br>No longer shall thy comely tresses break<br>In flowing ringlets on thy snowy neck,<br>Or sit behind thy head, an ample round,<br>In graceful braids, with various ribbands bound;<br>No longer shall the bodice, aptly laced<br>From thy full bosom to thy slender waist,<br>That air and harmony of shape exprest,<br>Fine by degrees, and beautifully less;<br>Nor shall thy lower garments artful plait,<br>From thy fair side dependent to thy feet,<br>Arm their chaste beauties with a modest pride,<br>And double every charm they seek to hide.<br>Th' ambrosial plenty of thy shining hair<br>Cropt off and lost, scarce lower than thy ear<br>Shall stand uncouth; a horseman's coast shall hide<br>Thy taper shape and comeliness of side;<br>The short trunk-hose shall show thy foot and knee<br>Licentious, and to common eyesight free;<br>And with a bolder stride and looser air,<br>Mingled with men, a man thou must appear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor solitude, nor gentle peace of mind,<br>Mistaken Maid, shalt thou in forests find:<br>'Tis long since Cynthia and her train were there,<br>Or guardian gods made innocence their care:<br>Vagrants and outlaws shall offend thy view,<br>For such must be my friends; a hideous crew,<br>By adverse fortune mix'd in social ill,<br>Train'd to assault, and disciplined to kill;<br>Their common loves a lewd abandon'd pack, <br>The beadle's lash still flagrant on their back;<br>By sloth corrupted, by disorder fed,<br>Made bold by want, and prostitute for bread:<br>With such must Emma hunt the tedious day,<br>Assist their violence an divide their prey;<br>With such she must return at setting light,<br>Though not partaker, witness of their night.<br>Thy ear, inured to charitable sounds<br>And pitying love, must feel the hateful wounds<br>Of jest obscene and vulgar ribaldry,<br>The ill-bred question and the lewd reply;<br>Brought by long habitude from bad to worse,<br>Must hear the frequent oath, the direful curse,<br>That latest weapon of the wretches' war,<br>And blasphemy, sad comrade of despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, Emma, now the last reflection make,<br>What thou wouldst follow, what thou must forsake:<br>By out ill-omen'd stars and adverse heaven<br>No middle object to thy choice is given;<br>Or yield thy virtue to attain thy love,<br>Or leave a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates<br>Force thee to suffer what thy honour hates;<br>Mix thee amongst the bad, or make thee run<br>Too near the path which Virtue bids thee shun.<br>Yet with her Henry still let Emma go;<br>With him abhor the vice, but share the wo:<br>And sure my little heart can never err<br>Amidst the worse if Henry still be there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our outward act is prompted from within,<br>And from the sinner's mind proceeds the sin:<br>By her own choice free Virtue is approved,<br>Nor by the force of outward objects moved.<br>Who has essay'd no danger gains no praise,<br>In a small isle, amidst the widest seas,<br>Triumphant Constancy has fix'd her seat;<br>In vain the Syrens sing, the tempests beat:<br>Their flattery she rejects, nor fears their threat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thee alone these little charms I drest,<br>Condemn'd them or absolved them by thy test:<br>In comely figure ranged my jewels shone,<br>Or negligently placed for thee alone:<br>For thee again they shall be laid aside;<br>The woman, Henry, shall put off her pride<br>I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee:<br>O line extreme of human infamy!<br>Wanting the scissors, with these hands I'll tear<br>(If that obstructs my flight) this load of hair:<br>Black soot or yellow walnut shall disgrace<br>This little red and white of Emma's face:<br>These nails with scratches shall deform my breast,<br>Lest by my look or colour be exprest<br>The mark of ought high-born, or ever better drest.<br>Yet in this commerce, under this disguise,<br>Let me be grateful still to Henry's eyes;<br>Lost to the world, let me to him be known;<br>My fate I can absolve if he shall own<br>That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>O wildest thought of an abandon'd mind:<br>Name, habit, parents, woman, left behind,<br>Even honour dubious, thou preferr'st to go<br>Wild to the woods with me. Said Emma so?<br>Or did I dream what Emma never said:<br>O guilty error! and O wretched Maid!<br>Whose roving fancy would resolve the same<br>With him who next should tempt her easy fame,<br>And blow with empty words the susceptible flame.<br>Now why should doubtful terms thy mind perplex?<br>Confess thy frailty and avow the sex:<br>No longer loose desire for constant love<br>Mistake, but say, 'tis man with whom thou long'st to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>Are there not poisons, racks, and flames, and swords,<br>That Emma thus must die by Henry's words;<br>Yet what could swords or poison, racks, or flame,<br>But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame! <br>More fatal Henry's words, they murder Emma's fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And fall these sayings from that gentle tongue,<br>Where civil speech and soft persuasion hung?<br>Whose artful sweetness and harmonious strain,<br>Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain,<br>Call sighs, and tears, and wishes, to its aid,<br>And, whilst it Henry's glowing flame convey'd,<br>Still blamed the coldness of the Nut-brown Maid?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let envious Jealousy and canker'd Spite<br>Produce my actions to severest light,<br>And tax my open day or secret might.<br>Did e'er my tongue speak my unguarded heart<br>The least inclined to play the wanton's part?<br>Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal,<br>Which angels might not hear and virgins tell!<br>And hast thou, Henry, in my conduct known<br>One fault but that which I must ever own<br>That I, of all mankind, have loved but thee alone?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>Vainly thou talk'st of loving me alone?<br>Each man is man, and all of our sex is one;<br>False are our words, and fickle is our mind;<br>Nor in Love's ritual can we ever find<br>Vows made to last, or promises to blind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By Nature prompted, and for empire made,<br>Alike by strength or cunning we invade:<br>When arm'd with rage we march against the foe,<br>We lift the battle-axe, and draw the bow;<br>When fired with passion we attack the fair,<br>Delusive sighs and brittle vows we bear;<br>Our falsehood and out arms have equal use,<br>As they our conquest or delight produce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The foolish heart thou gavest again receive,<br>The only boon departing Love can give.<br>To be less wretched be no longer true:<br>What strives to fly thee why shouldst thou pursue?<br>Forget the present flame, indulge a new:<br>Single the loveliest of the amorous youth:<br>Ask for his vow, but hope not for his truth,<br>The next man (and the next thou shalt believe)<br>Will pawn his gods intending to deceive;<br>Will kneel, implore, persist, o'ercome, and leave.<br>Hence let thy Cupid aim his arrows right:<br>Be wise and false, shun trouble, seek delight;<br>Change thou the first, nor wait thy lover's flight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why shouldst thou weep? let Nature judge our case;<br>I saw thee young and fair; I another saw<br>Fairer and younger: yielding to the law<br>Of our all-ruling mother, I pursued<br>More youth, more beauty. Blest vicissitude!<br>My active heart still keeps its pristine flame,<br>The object alter'd, the desire the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This younger, fairer, pleads her rightful charms,<br>With present power compels me to her arms;<br>And much I fear from my subjected mind,<br>(If beauty's force to constant love can bind)<br>That years may roll ere in her turn the maid<br>Shall weep the fury of my love decay'd,<br>And weeping follow me, as thou dost now,<br>With idle clamours of a broken vow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor can the wildness of thy wishes err,<br>So wide to hope that thou may'st live with her!<br>Love, well thou know'st, no partnership allows;<br>Cupid averse, rejects divided vows:<br>Then from thy foolish heart, vain maid, remove<br>A useless sorrow and an ill-starr'd love,<br>And leave me, with the fair, at large in woods to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>Are we in life through one great error led?<br>Is each man perjured, and each nymph betray'd?<br>Of the superior sex art thou the worst?<br>Am I of mine the most completely cursed?<br>Yet let me go with thee, and going prove,<br>From what I will endure, how much I love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This potent beauty, this triumphant fair,<br>This unhappy object of our different care,<br>Her let me follow; her let me attend,<br>A servant: (she may scorn the name of friend)<br>What she demands incessant I'll prepare;<br>I'll weave her garlands, and I'll plait her hair;<br>My busy diligence shall deck her board,<br>(For there at least I may approach my lord)<br>And when her Henry's softer hours advice<br>His servant's absence, with dejected eyes<br>Far I'll recede, and sighs forbid to rise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, when increasing grief brings slow disease<br>And ebbing life, on terms severe as these,<br>Will have its little lamp no longer fed;<br>When Henry's mistress shows him Emma dead<br>Rescue my poor remains from vile neglect:<br>With virgin honours let my hearse be deck'd<br>And decent emblem; and, at least, persuade<br>This happy nymph that Emma may be laid<br>Where thou, dear author of my death, where she<br>With frequent eye my sepulchre may see.<br>The nymph, amidst her joys, may haply breathe<br>One pious sigh, reflecting on my death,<br>And the sad fate which she may one day prove,<br>Who hopes from Henry's vows eternal love.<br>And thou forsworn, thou cruel, as thou art,<br>If Emma's image ever touch'd thy heart,<br>Thou sure must give one thought, and drop one tear<br>To her whom love abandon'd to despair;<br>To her who dying on the wounded stone,<br>Bid it in lasting characters be known,<br>That of mankind she loved but thee alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry.<br>Hear, solemn Jove, and, conscious Venus, hear;<br>And thou, bright maid, believe me whilst I swear;<br>No time, no charge, no future flame, shall move<br>The well placed basis of my lasting love.<br>O powerful Virtue! O victorious fair!<br>At least excuse a trial too severe;<br>Receive the triumph, and forget the war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove,<br>Entreats thy pardon, and implores thy love:<br>No perjured knight desires to quit thy arms,<br>Fairest collection of thy sex's charms,<br>Crown of my love, and honour of my youth;<br>Henry, thy Henry, with eternal truth,<br>As thou may'st wish, shall all his life employ,<br>And found his glory in his Emma's joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In me behold the potent Edgar's heir,<br>Illustrious earl: him terrible in war,<br>Let Loyre confess, for she has felt his sword,<br>And trembling fled before the British lord.<br>Him great in peace and wealth fair Deva knows,<br>For she amidst his spacious meadows flows,<br>Inclines her urn upon his fatten'd lands,<br>And sees his numerous herds imprint her sands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou, my fair, my dove, shalt raise thy thought<br>To greatness next to empire; shalt be brought<br>With solemn pomp to my paternal seat,<br>Where peace and plenty on thy word shall wait:<br>Music and song shall wake the marriage day,<br>And while the priests accuse the bride's delay,<br>Myrtles and roses shall obstruct her way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn,<br>And blooming Peace shall ever bless thy morn,<br>Succeeding years their happy race shall run,<br>And Age unheeded by delight come on,<br>While yet superior love shall mock his power;<br>And when old Time shall turn the fated hour, <br>Which only can our well-tied knot unfold,<br>What rests of both one sepulchre shall hold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hence, then, for ever, from my Emma's breast<br>(That heaven of softness and that seat of rest)<br>Ye doubts and tears, and all that know to move<br>Tormenting grief, and all that trouble love;<br>Scatter'd by winds recede, and wild in forests rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Emma.<br>O day, the fairest sure that ever rose!<br>Period and end of anxious Emma's woes!<br>Sire of her joy, and source of her delight,<br>O! wing'd with pleasure take thy happy flight,<br>And give each future morn a tincture of thy white.<br>Yet tell thy votary, potent queen of love,<br>Henry, my Henry, will he never rove?<br>Will he be ever kind, and just, and good?<br>And is there yet no mistress in the wood?<br>None, none there is: the thought was rash and vain,<br>A false idea, and a fancied pain,<br>Doubt shall for ever quit my strengthen'd heart,<br>And anxious Jealousy's corroding smart;<br>Nor other inmate shall inhabit there,<br>But soft Belief, young Joy, and pleasing Care.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hence let the tides of Plenty ebb and flow,<br>And Fortune's various gale unheeded blow.<br>If at my feet the suppliant goddess stands,<br>And sheds her treasure with unwearied hands,<br>Her present favour cautious I'll embrace,<br>And not unthankful use the proffer'd grace;<br>If she reclaims the temporary boon,<br>And tries her pinions, fluttering to be gone,<br>Secure of mind I'll obviate her intent, <br>And unconcern'd return the goods she lent,<br>Nor happiness can I, not misery, feel,<br>From any turn of her fantastic wheel:<br>Friendship's great laws and love's superior powers,<br>Must mark the colour of my future hours.<br>From the events which thy commands create <br>I must my blessings or my sorrows date,<br>And Henry's will must dictate Emma's fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, while with close delight and inward pride<br>(Which from the world my careful soul shall hide)<br>I see thee, lord and end of my desire,<br>Exalted high as virtue can require,<br>With power invested, and with pleasure cheer'd,<br>Sought by the good, by the oppressor fear'd,<br>Loaded and bless'd with all the affluent store<br>Which human vows at smoking shrines implore.<br>Grateful and humble grant me to employ<br>My life subservient only to thy joy,<br>And at my death to bless thy kindness, shown<br>To her who, of mankind, could love but thee alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While thus the constant pair alternate said,<br>Joyful above them and around them play'd<br>Angels and sportive loves, a numerous crowd:<br>Smiling they clapp'd their wings, and low they bow'd:<br>They tumbled all their little quivers o'er,<br>To choose propitious shafts a precious store,<br>That when their god should take his future darts,<br>To strike, (however rarely) constant hearts,<br>His happy skill might proper arms employ,<br>All tipt with pleasure, and all wing'd with joy;<br>And those, they vow'd, whose lives should imitate<br>These lovers' constancy, should share their fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The queen of beauty stopp'd her bridled doves,<br>Approved the little labour of the loves:<br>Was proud and pleased the mutual vow to hear,<br>And to the triumph call'd the god of war:<br>Soon as she calls, the god is always near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Mars, she said, let Fame exalt her voice,<br>Nor let thy conquests only be her choice,<br>But when she sings, great Edward from the field<br>Return'd, the hostile spear and captive shield<br>In Concord's temple hung, and Gallia taught to yield.<br>And when, as prudent Saturn shall complete<br>The years design'd to perfect Britain's state,<br>The swift-wing'd power shall take her trump again,<br>To sing her favourite Anna's wondrous reign,<br>To recollect unwearied Malbro's toils,<br>Old Rufus' Hall unequal to his spoils,<br>The British soldier from his high command<br>Glorious, and Gaul thrice vanquish'd by his hand.<br>Let her at least perform what I desire,<br>With second breath the vocal brass inspire,<br>And tell the nations in no vulgar strain,<br>What wars I manage, and what wreaths I gain,<br>And when thy tumults and thy fights are past,<br>And when thy laurels at my feet are cast;<br>Faithful may'st thou, like British Henry prove,<br>And Emma-like let me return thy love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Renown'd for truth let all thy sons appear,<br>And constant beauty shall reward their care.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mars smiled, and bow'd: the Cyprian deity<br>Turn'd to the glorious ruler of the sky;<br>And thou, she smiling said, great god of days<br>And verse, behold my deed and sing my praise;<br>As on the British earth, my favourite isle,<br>Thy gentle rays and kindest influence smile,<br>Through all her laughing fields and verdant groves<br>Proclaim with joy these memorable loves:<br>From every annual course let one great day<br>To celebrate sports and floral play<br>Be set aside; and in the softest lays<br>Of thy poetic sons, be solemn praise<br>And everlasting marks of honour paid<br>To the true lover and the Nut-brown Maid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Matthew+Prior">Matthew Prior</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=457147" data-title="Henry And Emma. A Poem. de Matthew Prior" data-description="Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown Maid. To Cloe.


Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command
(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand.
I take the sprightly reed, and sing and play,
Careless of what the censuring world may say;
Bright Cloe!..."></div>
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