The babe cry'd out, as if he understood, And begg'd his pardon with what voice he could. By what expreffions can my grief be shown? wound. And now appear'd the meffenger of death; Sad were his looks, and fcarce he drew his breath, 110 To fay, "Your father fends you"-(with that word His trembling hands prefented me a fword :) "Your father fends know, . this; and lets you you this; "That your own crimes the ufe of it will show." Too well I know the fenfe thofe words im part: His prefent fhall be treafur'd in my heart. 116 Are these the nuptial gifts a bride receives? And this the fatal dow'r a father gives? Thou god of Marriage, fhun thy own difgrace, And take thy torch from this detefted place: 120 Instead of that, let furies light their brands, And fire my pile with their infernal hands, With happier fortune may my fifters wed How could thy infant innocence offend? 125 131 A guilt there was; but, oh, that guilt was mine! bear; And faithfully my laft defires fulfil, As I perform my cruel father's will. 140 145 Ver. 146. As I perform] The fubject of this epiftle is so very difgufting and offenfive, that I could not bring my mind to make any obfervation upon it, and fuppofe Dryden tranflated it only to complete the volume. Dr. J. WARTON. HELEN TO PARIS. EPIST. XVII. THE ARGUMENT. Helen, having received an epiftle from Paris, returns the following anfwer: wherein she seems at firft to chide him for his prefumption in writing as he had done, which could only proceed from his low opinion of her virtue: then owns herself to be fenfible of the paffion, which he had expressed for her, though fhe much fufpected his conftancy; and at laft difcovers her inclination to be favourable to him: the whole letter fhewing the extreme artifice of womankind. WHEN loose epiftles violate chaste eyes, 5 Does this deferve to be rewarded fo? 10 Did you come here a stranger or a foe? What hope had Had I been won, I had deferv'd prey 25 your blame, But fure my part was nothing but the fhame. Yet the bafe theft to him no fruit did bear, I 'fcap'd unhurt by any thing but fear. Rude force might fome unwilling kiffes gain But that was all he ever could obtain. You on fuch terms would ne'er have let me go; Were he like you, we had not parted fo. Untouch'd the youth reftor'd me to my friends, And modeft ufage made me fome amends. 'Tis virtue to repent a vicious deed, Did he repent, that Paris might fucceed? Sure 'tis fome fate that fets me above wrongs, 35 Yet ftill expofes me to busy tongues. 30 |