Why do you weep? Ah wherefore not reply?

MARGARET.

It was the chiding gale:

Ah no, it is the found of hoftile fteps.

(Enter Robber.)

ROBBER.

Who e'er thou art, I fee thou'rt in distress,

I too am well acquainted with Misfortune,

And

greater fill than thine, for at my door Pale Famine fits, while ftarving children fend

A mournful

A mournful peal: if ought thou haft conceal'd fi
Within this wood, give me the hoarded treafure.

Give me thy treafure, or I'll flay thy child.

MARGARET.

Arreft that impious arm, He is thy Prince! Talk not of want; of Mifery's fcourging hand) Complain no more; in me, in me behold

Distressful MARG'RET, England's vanquish'd Queen!

And all the treasure left her from the field,

The cruel havock of this morning's fight,

Is center'd in this Child.

I'm not fo loft in vice, fo deep-ingulph'd
In woe, but that my Sovereign's diftrefs
Obliterates my own: forgive the bold,

(Kneeling)

The favage mode in which I first accosted thee,

And

And in atonement for my crime accept,
Deign to accept what now my duty offers.
I'll lead thee thro' fome dark and winding pathway
Of this wild foreft to a neighb'ring river,

Where rides a Bark, whofe canvafs courts the gales
That fly to France: where thou, unhappy Queen,

May'st find a safe retreat from the wild dangers
That furround thee.

MARGARET.

Rife, rife, I dare confide

Myself and my lov'd child to your protection; HUMA

Lead on amid the horrors of this hour,

Reft of a Crown, a Husband, ev'ry Friend,

Amid this mighty ruin, EDWARD lives,

And wretched' MARGARET fill fhall be a Mother..

This godlike deed of thine, thou gen'rous man,

From out the wond'rous ftory of this day

Shall shine to latest time, the moft illuftrious.

FOR

FOR THE VASE AT BATH EASTON:

UPON

DR E
RE AM S.

NOVEMBER 1777.

1.

As Echo's voice returns the pleasing lay,

So is a Dream the Echo of the day:

The bufy thoughts that round fome object teem
Oft join in fleep to form the nightly theme,
Then bright-ey'd Fancy lifts her magic wand
While scenes unreal rife at her command:
Then Comedy, with all her laughing train
Straight iffues from the porch of Comus' fane,
And bringing with her all her pleasing wiles,
Her pranks, her gambols, and her winning finiles,
She bids her merry troop approach the bed
And beat their airy dance round ANSTEY's head.

Still

II.

Still when fome chofen fair commands the heart

Gay Fancy acts at night her mimic part:
With skilful hand she decks the living scene
And ushers to the view the bofom's Queen.
Ye lovers answer to the truth I fing;

Say, does not Fancy to your slumber bring,
Drefs'd by each grace in Beauty's best array,
The welcome fair who charm'd you thro' the day!
Does not her form return to glad the fight,
Like Cynthia bursting thro' the cloud of night!
How pleas' each well-known feature we descry,
That look of fenfe-that eloquence of eye-
She fpeaks-her words beyond vain Music's art
Steal on our flumber and enchant the heart.

Sometimes a dream anticipates the date,
Comes as a prophet to reveal our fate:
And thus, ere YORICK funk into the tomb,
The Prieft of fentiment forefaw his doom:
"Twas night-his folitary couch he prefs'd,
Till forrow-worn he wearied into reft;
ELIZA then foft gliding on his view,

Thus o'er his flumber breath'd her fad adieu:

• Oh