For on that dreadful night the news was spread, For thro' all Lombardy was Morcar known LXXVIII. 395 310 But still more oft' the town's beleagur'd wall Nor age nor fex their boiling rage would spare, Where defp'rate Morcar's haughty enfigns flood. LXXX. Now well diffembling with a chofen few, LXXXI. For this he deem'd would foon admittance gain, 315 320 Thus ftratagem for once might force fupply, And Hubert's hopes with wish'd success be crown'd. LXXXII. The chief once enter'd 'midst the bufy throng, 323 Then should grim war fucceed to mirthful song, But while he thus infidious wiles prepares, LXXXIV. Yet the wife captive meeting art with art, Which may against his foes' strong arms provide: LXXXV. For this too carelessly the guards attend, On one devoted to their master's cause, 330 333 And while they slightly watch this new-made friend, He tow'rds the city fuddenly withdraws. LXXXVI. Tho' not fo fafe he took his speedy flight, 340 Whofe troops purfu'd him thro' the fhades of night, And mark'd him o'er with many a ghastly wound. LXXXVII. But yet the fugitive the city gains,' Tells all the fnares the wily foe had laid, LXXXVIII. 343 Now the fear'd priests the rites prepar'd furceafe: To the loud trumpets' found the timbrels yield; 350 The youths straight lay afide their weeds of peace, And arm them quickly for the martial field. LXXXIX. While the grave old, and those whofe rev'rend place XC. There awful met beneath their monarch's eye, 355 Weighs all advice that from their counsel springs. XCI. Thus in Verona pass the gloomy hours, While tempefts roar, and thunders rend the sky, While dreaded earthquakes fhake the nodding tow'rs, And all the bulwarks tremble from on high. XCII. At length, while in debate the fenate fate, Volume 11. 365 That feem'd as if Verona's final fate Hung on the peal that rent the wounded air. A peal fo loud, that the rude tempeft's noise XCIV. Straight rife the peers, confufion fills the hall, XCV. Of these strange tidings, and the stranger deeds grave words or bloody fwords decide: These in another Canto fhall be shown, 370 375 381 But here our steeds awhile we mean to rein, Like thofe of Sol, who leave his ev'ning throne, And sleep with Thetis in the western main. 384 Whence human pleasures flow, fing, heav'nly Muse! Whofe quick'ning taste adds vigour to the soul, With copious hand by bounteous gods bestow'd! ΤΟ In a letter from Aaron Hill to Mr. Savage, published in the former's Works, vol. 1. p. 339. speaking of Mr. Gay, he has these words, That Poem you speak of, called Wine, he printed in the year 1710, as I remember. I am fure I have one among my pamphlets.I will look for it and fend it you, if it will be of ufe or fatisfaction to any gentleman of your acquaintance."This is the piece Mr. Hill mentions, and it is here printed from a copy of the original edition. |