Sick at the sight of hateful justice done; For conscience rung th' alarm, and made the case their own. So spread upon a lake, with upward eye, A plump of fowl behold their foe on high; They close their trembling troop, and all attend On whom the sousing eagle will descend. But most the proud Honoria fear'd th' event, And thought to her alone the vision sent. 320 Her guilt presents to her distracted mind Heav'n's justice, Theodore's revengeful kind, And the same fate to the same sin When on a sudden, reinspir'd with breath, But follow'd, as before, the flying maid; Th' avenger took from earth th' avenging sword, And mounting light as air his sable steed he spurr'd: The clouds dispell'd, the sky resum'd her light, And Nature stood recover'd of her fright. The fresh impulse her former fright renew'd: She thought herself the trembling dame who fled, And him the grisly ghost that spurr'd th' infernal steed; The more dismay'd, for when the guests withdrew, Their courteous host, saluting all the crew, Regardless pass'd her o'er, nor grac'd with kind adieu. That sting infix'd within her haughty mind, The downfall of her empire she divin'd; And her proud heart with secret sorrow pin'd. 351 pace, Of death afraid, and conscious of disgrace; Fear, pride, remorse, at once her heart assail'd; Pride put remorse to flight, but fear prevail'd. Friday, the fatal day, when next it came, Her soul forethought the fiend would change his game, And her pursue, or Theodore be slain, And two ghosts join their packs to hunt her o'er the plain. This dreadful image so possess'd her That desp'rate any succor else to find, Proof to disdain, and not to be remov'd: So had another been, where he his vows 390 He took a low'ring leave, but who can tell What outward hate might inward love conceal? Her sex's arts she knew, and why not, then, Might deep dissembling have a place in men? Here hope began to dawn; resolv'd to try, She fix'd on this her utmost remedy: 400 Death was behind, but hard it was to die. 'Twas time enough at last on death to call, The precipice in sight: a shrub was all That kindly stood betwixt to break the fatal fall. One maid she had, belov'd above the rest; Secure of her, the secret she confess'd; And now the cheerful light her fears aispell'd, She with no winding turns the truth conceal'd, But put the woman off, and stood reveal'd: j With faults confess'd commission'd her to go, 410 |