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Scarce could th' aftonifh'd earl with temper hear The fraudful tale prefented to his ear;

For well he faw, thro' all his fpecious art,

The fubtle meannefs of Lothario's heart.

Ended-the earl replies,

Time may reveal;
Nor fhall the guiltless my refentment feel!
Meanwhile, Lothario, as the morn is fair,
Suppofe we breathe awhile the fragrant air;
The chearful fun feems, with increafing heat,
To ask our presence in yon green retreat;

Where, midft the cooling freshness of the fhade,
Pleas'd we may view the beauties he has made.'
This faid, Earl Elwin fought the mazy wood,
That cloath'd the hill on which his manfion flood;
Each fecret winding path, full well he knew,
And to what spots the devious feet they drew.

With no fix'd courfe his footsteps feem to ftray;
Slowly he leads, regardless of the way:
Now mounts the hill, and now defcends the vale,
As richer tints or brighter fcenes prevail.

At length, a little manfion meets their view,
To which the earl's increafing pace now drew.
Lothario follows-but the wakeful fear

On guilt attendant, faintly startles here:
Increafing ftill, he fcarce can keep his feet;
Fearful, alike, to follow or retreat.

And now the noble Elwin, ent'ring cries, (The fparks of anger lightning in his eyes)

The time is come! when poor Albina's fate
• Shall stand reveal'd-thou, wretch, receive my hate!
• Soon fhall the villain my refentment know,

Who plung'd a breaft fo true, fo deep in woe!'
Before Lothario's fading fight appears

The good Ernefto, filent and in tears;
Within his aged arms Albina lies,

Speechless her tongue, and clos'd her weeping eyes;

Struggling

Struggling with Death-unwilling to depart-
In all the anguish of a broken heart:
While by their fide her little cherub lay.

And ask'd with tears a mother's needful stay.

There, there, behold-!' The earl could add no more, Ere at his feet dropp'd lifeless on the floor

The late-repentant youth.And now distress'd
With various paffions warring in his breast,
A moment's space the earl abstracted stands,
While ev'ry paffion in it's turn commands;
Till nature's ftrongest pleas redoubled rife,
And all the father iffues from his eyes-

Too, too fevere! what has my rashness done!
• Return, return! my fon, my fon, my fon!'
Then, with a figh fufficient to divide
The ftrings of life, funk breathlefs by his fide.

Reliev'd, at length, from this sad state of woe,
From ev'ry eye the streams of forrow flow:
Silent they weep-till now Earl Elwin breaks
The melancholy paufe-thus kindly speaks.

Enough of grief—be it henceforth our care,

• Much as we may, the ravage to repair;

And pleas'd I fee contrition heave the breast, 'Where vice-the blackest vice-fo lately ftood confess'd. O fon Lothario-yet I call thee fon

• What has thy guilt, thy guilt and weakness done! • Paffion demands a recompence severe,

But love parental drops the lifted fpear;

• Nor fhall reflection interpofe a wound,
To fink the struggling wretch too nearly drown'd.
True, I had thought to fee my fon allied

• With wealth and titlestays of human pride-
Such as his birth might unaffuming claim,

But well Albina, with inherent worth,

Supplies the place of titles, wealth, and birth:
And greatly injur'd by a prouder name,

Gains what that lofes, rifes with it's fhame;

Till, what at firft fuperior fplendor own'd,

Thro' guilt's depos'd, and humbler worth enthron'd.
Look down, Albina, then-the wand'rer take-
And O forgive him, for a father's fake!

Kneel not to me-fon, daughter, brother dear,
It is too much- to Heav'n be all our pray❜r.
"Father ador'd! preferve us in thy way,
"Nor e'er permit our vagrant feet to stray!
"But O uplift us, with a parent's care,
"Whene'er we fall in guilt's infidious fnare!
"Let genuine penitence each crime atone;
"And ftill, whate er we feel, thy will be done!"
Long did Albina ftruggle with difcafe,
And health returning ebb'd by low degrees:
Nor knew Lothario one fhort hour of reft,
So great the anguish of his troubled breaft,
Till, quite reliev'd from all the healing train,
He clafp'd his lovely bride, now free from pain.
Each day, by fome new means, Lothario strove

To gain ftill farther on Albina's love:

And never penitent was more fincere ;

More griev'd for what was paft, from future guilt more clear. The focial converfe of endearing friends;

The ruftick sports, where ftrength with fkill contends;

The chearing breath that floats aloft in air,

And bends the lift'ning angel from his fphere;
The frightly dance, where grace and beauty join;
Each fource of blifs by mortals deem'd divine :
Display in turns variety of charms,

And ftrive to woo the fair to Pleafure's arms-
And oft he joins her friends in converfe sweet,
Oft deigns to vifit where the rusticks meet,

With fkilful hand oft ftrikes the trembling ftrings,
And adds new grace to beauty's gayeft rings:
Yet not to her thefe pleasures feem divine;
Her heart, revolting, ftill difdains to join.
Chiefly the joys the woodland wilds to trace,
To gaze delighted on her infant's face :
But moft, the morn and evening song to raise,
In grateful trains to her Creator's praise;
Who, when Defpair had feiz'd her coward heart,
Gracious advanc'd, and fav'd the nobler part.
One day Lothario, from the chace return'd,
Surpriz'd Albina, and her grief difcern'd;
Caught her in all the dignity of woe,

And faw the bitter streams of anguish flow.

Ah, my lov'd lord!' exclaim'd the weeping fair,

You see a wretch unworthy of your care;

A wretch who thought her fullen grief to hide,
And hop'd, ere this, her forrows would fubfide!
Yes, deareft, beft of men! Albina ftrove,
Much as fhe could, to recompenfe thy love;
To hide her pain from thy too feeling heart-
For, ah! fhe knew, thou couldst not bear to part!
And griev'd fhe faw thy tenderness increase,

'While each endearment wounded more her peace !—

Unhappy state! where still affection grows,

For the dear object we must thortly lofe! 'When to the grave Albina shall defcend, 'Let not our little cherub want a friend. Alas! my love-but O it would not be—

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• For him I wifh'd to live-for him and thee.

Thy manly heart has fortitude to bear

The ills of life-and do not thou despair!
For me--But OI feel approaching death!
Receive, my love-my life-this latest breath!-

Thanks for thy kindness!-O may Heav'n reward

Thy tender love!--Now-now-my pray'r is heard !'

Then

Then with a figh that burst her toṛtur'd breast,
Sunk in his arms—and gain'd eternal rest.
But O what agony Lothario felt,

As o'er the breathlefs fair he frantick knelt!

He fhriek'd-he rav'd-he fmote the echoing floor-
And from his hapless head the flowing ringlets tore!
Close by her fide he laid a moment's space,
Prefs'd her cold hands, and kiss'd her pallid face:
Chaf'd ev'ry limb, each feature anxious trac❜d,
Breath'd on her lips, and then again embrac❜d.
Now furious rofe, rav'd, fhriek'd, and madly tore;
Till nature, quite exhaufted, could no more:
Then falling headlong by Albina's fide,

The struggling maniack groan'd awhile-and died!

Beneath this ftone a hapless pair,

In early youth to death confign'd,
Together reft from ev'ry care

That deeply wounds the feeling mind.

Albina, like a tender flow'r,

Nipp'd by the thoughtless hand of love,
Pines for her native root each hour,
Nor aught of earthly bliss can prove.

Lothario mourns his eager hafte,

That fnatch'd too foon the precious bloom;
Distracted fees the cruel wafte,

And joins her in the darksome tomb.

To honour juft, O gen'rous youth!
While now you mourn Albina's fate,
Refolve on conftancy and truth,
Nor, like Lothario, grieve too late.

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