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He too shall seek beneath the unfathom'd deep
To hide him from thy fury.

How the sea

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Far distant glitters as the sun-beams smile,
And gaily wanton o'er its heaving breast!
Phoebus shines forth, nor wears one cloud to mourn
His votary's sorrows. God of Day shine on!..
By man despised, forsaken by the Gods,

I supplicate no more.

How many a day,
O pleasant Lesbos! in thy secret streams
Delighted have I plunged, from the hot sun

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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.

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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 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!

Oxford, 1793.

She throws herself from the precipice.

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XIMALPOCA.

The story of this Mexican King is related by Torquemada in his Monarquia Indiana, 1. ii. c. 28. and by the Abate Clavigero, Storia Antica del Messico, t. i. l. 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 I have ever borne a father's love

Towards you; it is thirteen years since first
You saw me in the robes of royalty,..

Since here the multitudes of Mexico

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Hail'd me their King. I thank you, friends, that now, In equal numbers and with equal love,

You come to grace my death.

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
Speak shame of me hereafter. O my people,
Not by my sins have I drawn down upon me
The wrath of Heaven.

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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 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, 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

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Of me, of heaven, he seized, and spurn'd her back Polluted!... Coward villain! and he lurks

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Behind his armies and his multitudes,

And mocks my idle wrath !.. It is not fit..

It is not possible that I should live ! ..

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Live! and deserve to be the finger-mark

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

He died the brave man's death!

Not of the God

Unworthy, do I seek his altar thus,
A voluntary victim. And perchance

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The sacrifice of life may profit ye,

My people, though all living efforts fail'd
By fortune, not by fault.

Cease your lament !
And if your ill-doom'd King deserved your love,
Say of him to your children, he was one

Who bravely bore misfortune; who, when life
Became dishonour, shook his body off,

And join'd the spirits of the heroes dead.
Yes! not in Miclanteuctli's dark abode
With cowards shall your King receive his doom:
Not in the icy caverns of the North

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Suffer through endless ages. He shall join
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
Down to the western palace of his rest
The Prince of Glory; and with equal eye
Endure his center'd radiance. Not of

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Forgetful, O my people, even then;
But often in the amber cloud of noon

you

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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

Steam'd up to thee its life! Priests of the God,
Perform your office!

Westbury, 1798.

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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. BUCHANAN.

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.

Secure.

Idle threats! I stand

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

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