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On faith! and thou, connubial sanctity!

Mother of virtue, and domestic joy!
Ordain’d by heaven to knit in holy league
Of love, and common benefit, mankind !
From your just laws despis’d, what evils spring!
An haughty princess vindicates in arms
Her slighted beauty, and her injur'd bed:
Sullied with gore, o'er mangled carcases

Th' obstructed river b rolls his angry wave,

While kindred heroes fall by mutual wounds:
A glorious chief, by vulgar hands expires :
And the fair partner of his guilty love,
Pale with foreboding fears, expects the sword
Of vengeance, and th' inexorable doom!
Such be the subject of the moral lay.
A mournful tale, from ancient days derived,
What time Ausonian Brutus' warlike race
Their sceptre rear'd o'er Britain's fertile isle.,

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From Menna’s rocky coast, and the rude craggs
Of high Ocrinum, from the source of Vale,
To where Voluba spreads her winding bays,
And proud Pendennis, far at sea descried,

o The Sture, or Stour, a river, on whose banks Locrine fought the forces of Cornwall. There are many rivers in England known

by this name. That which crossing Dorsetshire flows into the sea - in Christchurch Bay, seems to agree best with the other circumstances of the story.

Ancient names of places in Cornwall.

Directs the Tyrian mariner, who steers
His vessel, freighted from the spicy East,
For Cenio's ample port; from the tall cliff,
Where bold Corineus d foil'd his Giant-foe,
Hurl'd headlong to the main, the troubled waves
Rolld back affrighted, and the mountain shook.
From Cambala,e whose lucid waters stray'd
As yet unstain’d with blood, hereafter doom'd
To witness horrid war, in guilty fight
Britons with Britons mix'd, and Arthur slain.
From all her mountains, and from all her streams,
Cornubia sends her armed sons to war,
Breathing revenge. Before th' assembled tribes

d Corineus was a leader who accompanied Brutus, and had Cornwall as his share. His name is commonly written Corinæus. The pronunciation I have adopted, as best suited to my metre, is sufficiently justified by the authority of Spencer's Fa. Q. B. II. c. 10. It is related of this fabulous hero, that he wrestled with Gogmagog, one of the giants, native of the island, twelve cubits in height, and prevailing after a vigorous contest, carried hin upon his shoulders to a high rock, called ever since Langoëmagog, and threw him into the sea.

e A river, on whose banks the battle was fought between Mor. dred and king Arthur.

Their injur'd princess Guendolen appears. Faded and wan she seems; but shame, and rage, And mingled pride, contending in her breast, With transient colour flush her varying cheek. No costly gems upon her forehead blaze, Loose to the wind her hair disorder'd fies, And for the regal purple's graceful folds She wears the garb of mourning. Pity seiz'd The crowd, and for a while suspended rage. But as she told the story of her woes, And perjur'd Locrine's guilt, Corineus' daughter, Abandon’d, outcast, and a slavef advanc'd To fill her bed and throne ; when, glowing now With generous pride, and graceful indignation, She call'd upon her mighty father's shade; Remembrance of their prince, their country's honour, . Kindled in every breast the flame of vengeance. They clash'd their sounding arms, and rush'd along.

i 'f Estrildis, taken in the camp of Humber, king of the Huns,

when he was defeated by Locrine.

And now, the rapid Tamar pass’d, invade
Loëgria’s frontier, and defenceless plains,
With sudden war and ruthless devastation.
As when th' inhabitant of those fair isles
Beyond th’ Atlantic, when the sky serene
And the calm air invites, wooes the fresh breeze,
Which, lightly sweeping o'er the level deep,
Moistens his pinions in the cooling wave;
Delighted he inhales the grateful air.
Sudden the tumid billows rise; the earth
Meanwhile, of ill prophetic, murmurs forth
A sullen sound: trembling and pale, he flies.
In vain. High o'er his head, the dreadful roar
Of waters, from the whole collected sea

Rais'd horrible, pursues with hideous din

His flight; and now before him foaming spreads
The vast o'erarching deluge; now it breaks
In more than thunder, and th’ insatiate deep,
Howling o'er cultur'd fields, and peopled towns,
Resorbs a nation with the turning waves.

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