54 



Mercy î to mercy hear my just pretence ; 

 lam a woman, guiltless of offence ! 

 If my distress, and unexampled plight, 

 No generous pity in thy brçast excite ; 

 If thy blood-thirsty rage, by tears uncheck'd, 

 Would pass those limits which the brave respect ; 

 Will such a deed encrease thy martial fame, 

 * When Heaven's just voice shall to the world proclaim 

 That by thy ruthless sword a woman died, 

 A widow, sunk in sorrow's deepest tide? 

 Yet I implore thee, if 'twas hap'ly thine, 

 Or for thy curse, as now I feel it mine ; 

 If e'er thy lot, in any state'f to prove 

 How firm the faithful ties of tender love, 

 O let me bury one brave warrior slain, 

 Whose corse lies blended with this breathless train ! 

 Remember, he who thwarts the duteous will 

 Becomes th' approver and the cause of ill. 



Thou wilt not hinder these my pious vows ; 

 War, fiercest war, this just demand allows ; 

 The basest tyranny alone is driven 

 To use the utmost power that chance has given. 

 Let but my soul its dear companion find, 

 Then sate thy fury, if to blood inclin'd; 

 For in such grief I draw my lingering breath, 

 Life is my dread, beyond the pangs of death, 

 There is no ill that now can wound my breast, 

 No good, but what I in my Love possest : 

 Fly then, ye hours ! that keep me from the dead ; 

 For he, the spirit of my life, is fled. 

 If adverse Heaven my latest wish deny, 

 On his dear corse to fix my closing eye» 

 My tortur'd soul, in cruel Fate's despight, 

 Will soar, the faithful partner of his flight. 

 ^' And now her agony of heart implor'd 

 An end of all her sorrows from my sword. 

 Doubt and distrust my troubled mind assail. 

 That fears deceit in her affecting tale ; 

 Nor was I fully of her faith secure, 

 Till oft her words the mournful truth insure ; 

 Suspicion whisper'd, that an artful spy 

 By this illusion might our state descry. 



