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He too shall seek beneath the unfathom'd deep
How the sea
How many a day, 50 O pleasant Lesbos ! in thy secret streams Delighted have I plunged, from the hot sun Screen'd by the o'er-arching grove's delightful shade, And pillow'd on the waters ! Now the waves Shall chill me to repose.
Tremendous height! 55 Scarce to the brink will these rebellious limbs Support me. Hark! how the rude deep below Roars round the rugged base, as if it call’d Its long reluctant victim ! I will come !.. One leap, and all is over! The deep rest 60 Of death, or tranquil apathy's dead calm, Welcome alike to me. Away, vain fears ! Phaon is cold, and why should Sappho live? Phaon is cold, or with some fairer one ... Thought worse than death!
65 She throws herself from the precipice. Oxford, 1793.
The story of this Mexican King is related by Torquemada in
his Monarquia Indiana, 1. ii. c. 28. and by the Abate Clavi. gero, Storia Antica del Messico, t. i. 1. iii. p. 199. The sacrifice was not completed; a force sent by his enemy arrived in time to prevent the catastrophe; he was carried off captive, and destroyed himself in prison.
Scene, The Temple of Mexitli.
SUBJECTS! friends! children! I may call you children,
For thirteen years What I have been, ye know : that with all care, That with all justness and all gentleness, Seeking your weal, I govern'd. Is there one Whom I have injured ? one whose just redress I have denied, or baffled by delay ?
Let him come forth, that so no evil tongue
15 Not by my sins have I drawn down upon me The wrath of Heaven.
The wrath is heavy on me! Heavy! a burthen more than I can bear ! I have endured contempt, insult, and wrongs From that Acolhuan tyrant. Should I seek 20 Revenge? alas, my people, we are few,.. Feeble our growing state; it hath not yet Rooted itself to bear the hurricane; It is the lion-cub that tempts not yet The tyger's full-aged fury. Mexicans,
25 He sent to bid me wear a woman's robe ;.. When was the day that ever I look'd back In battle ? Mexicans, the wife I loved, To faith and friendship trusted, in despite Of me, of heaven, he seized, and spurn’d her back Polluted!... Coward villain ! and he lurks 31 Behind his armies and his multitudes, And mocks my idle wrath ... It is not fit.. It is not possible that I should livel.. Live! and deserve to be the finger-mark 35 Of slave-contempt!... His blood I cannot reach, But in my own all stains may be effaced ; It shall blot out the marks of infamy, And when the warriors of the days to come Tell of Ximalpoca, it shall be said
40 He died the brave man's death !
Not of the God Unworthy, do I seek his altar thus, A voluntary victim. And perchance
The sacrifice of life may profit ye,
He shall join 55 The Spirits of the brave, with them at morn Shall issue from the eastern gate of Heaven, And follow through his fields of light the Sun; With them shall raise the song and weave the dance ; Sport in the stream of splendour; company
60 Down to the western palace of his rest The Prince of Glory; and with equal eye Endure his center'd radiance. Not of you Forgetful, O my people, even then; But often in the amber cloud of noon
65 Diffused, will I o'erspread your summer fields, And on the freshen'd maize and brightening meads Shower plenty
Spirits of my valiant Sires, I come! Mexitli, never at thy shrine Flow'd braver blood; never a nobler heart 70 Steam'd
to thee its life ! Priests of the God, Perform your office!
THE WIFE OF FERGUS.
Fergusius 3. periit veneno ab uxore dato. Alii scribunt cum
uxor sæpe exprobrasset ei matrimonii contemptum et pellicum greges, neque quicquam profecisset, tandem noctu dormientem ab ea strangulatum. Quæstione de morte ejus habitâ, cum amicorum plurimi insimularentur, nec quisquam ne in gravissimis quidem tormentis quisquam fateretur, mulier, alioqui ferox, tot innoxiorum capitum miserta, in medium processit, ac e superiore loco cædem a se factum confessa, ne ad ludibrium superesset, pectus cultro transfodit : quod ejus factum varie pro cujusque ingenio est acceptum, ac perinde sermonibus celebratum.
Scene, The Palace Court. The Queen speaking
from the Battlements
CEASE.. cease your torments ! spare the sufferers ! Scotchmen, not theirs the deed ;.. the crime was mine. Mine is the glory.
Idle threats ! I stand Secure. All access to these battlements Is barr'd beyond your sudden strength to force; 5 And lo! the dagger by which Fergus died !
Shame on ye, Scotchmen, that a woman's hand Was left to do this deed! Shame on ye, Thanes, Who with slave-patience have so long endured