1 should, like her, with just resentment press'd, Have plung'd the fatal dagger to my breast.

What specious colours can disguise my sin,

Or still the restless monitor within?

Thy greatness, Henry, but augments my shame,
And adds immortal scandel to my name;

My odious name, which, as the worst disgrace,
The Cliffords cancel from their noble race!
To what propitious refuge shall I run,
The terrors of a guilty mind to shun ?
In vain the sun its morning pride displays,
I turn my eyes, and sicken at its rays:
The silver moon and sparkling stars by night
Torment me, too, with their officious light :
The glimm'ring tapers round my chamber plac'd
Across the room fantastic shadows cast;
Of all my dreams the melancholy scene
Presents an injur'd a revengeful Queen.

Last night, when Sleep my heavy eyes had clos'd,
To all her rage, methought, I stood expos'd!
Wild were her looks, a poison'd cup she brought,
And proudly offer'd me the fatal draught;
The destin'd bowl! took with trembling hands,
Compell'd to execute her fierce commands :
This dismal omen aggravates my fears,
Before my fancy still the furious Queen appears.

LETTER XVII.

MARY Queen of France, to CHARLES BRANDON Duke of

Suffolk.

The Princess Mary, Henry the VIII's younger sister, being in love with the Duke of Suffolk, was, for public reasons, murried to Lewis XII. of France, who died in six months after. The Queen being again at Liberty, writes the following Epistle to the Duke of Suffolk, ber first lover.

[An Imitation of Drayton's Epistle.]

LET these soft lines my kindest thoughts convey,
And tell thee what I suffer by thy stay.
Did scas divide us, this might well excuse
Thy negligence, and my fond heart abuse;
But Calais from the Kentish strand is seen,
A gentle current only rolls between.
Nor needs my Suffolk, like Leander, brave
A threat'ning death in ev'ry breaking wave,
When, guided only by a glimm'ring light,
He cross'd the stormy Hellespont each night:
Tall ships with flying sails, and lab'ring oars,
Attend to land thee on the Gallic shores.
But thou art chang'd! that ardour is expir'd,
Which once thy wishes with impatience fir'd,
When Savoy's blooming Duchess strove in vain
From me the conquest of thy heart to gain :
Invited by great Henry's martial fame,
The haughty princess, with her brother came
To compliment the King for Tournay gain'd;
Where, in a rich pavilion, entertain'd,
Thy noble form th' unguarded fair surpris'd;
Nor were her tender wishes long disguis'd:
Whatever flatt'ry, love, or wanton art
Could do, she practis'd to seduce thy heart.
Great Anthony, by such allurements, gain'd,

For Cleopatra all his glory stain'd:
But thy firm faith no injury receiv'd,
For you were just, or I was well deceiv'd.
Nor were my virgin vows less true to thee,
When young Castile adddress'd the Court for me;
The charms of proffer'd empire I resign'd,
And all that could ambition move, declin'd;
A softer passion had possess❜d my mind;
And while unrivall'd in thy breast I reign'd,
My thoughts the lustre of a crown disdain'd.
But, ah! what changes human joys attend!
On airy chance our brightest hopes depend.
Victorious Henry's arms still meet success:
The vanquish'd Gauls at last propose a peace:
By Wolsey's policy their terms succeed,
And both the hostile nations are agreed,
While I the public victim am decreed.
Condemn'd to share the Christian Monarch's bed,
And curs'd with that magnificence I fled.

I know my rank no private choice allow'd,
And what a Princess to her country ow'd.

These splendid maxims should have sway'd my breast,
But love entirely had my soul possess'd.
How oft I wish'd my humble lot had been
Beneath the glorious hazard of a Queen!

That crown'd by rural maids with painted flow'rs,
I rang'd the fields, and slept in verdant bow'rs!
Belov'd of some young swain with Brandon's face,
His voice, his gesture, and his blooming grace!
In all but birth and state resembling thee!
Then unmolested had we liv'd, and free

From those unhappy turns which greatness brings;
While rocks and meadows, shades and purling springs,
The flow'ry valley and the gloomy grove,

Such scenes of this inglorious life I drew,
And half believ'd the charming fiction true,
"Till real ills dissolv'd the pleasing dreams;

The groves and vallies fled, the lawns and silver streams,

The gay fantastic paradise 1 mourn'd,

While courts and factions, crowns and cares return'd.
With sighs I still recall the fatal day,

When no pretence could gain a longer stay,
The lovely Queen my parting sorrow saw,
Nor Henry's pre ence kept my grief in awe :
No rules of decent custom could controul,
Or hide the wild disorder of my soul;

When shipp'd for France, before the dancing wind
The navy fled, and left my hopes behind.
With weeping eyes I still survey'd the strand,
Where on a rising cliff I saw thee stand;

Nor once from thence my stedfast sight withdrew,
Till the lov'd object was no more in view.
Farewell, I cry'd, dear charmiug youth! with thee
Each cheerful prospect vanishes from me.

Loud shouts and triumphs on the Gallic coast
Ealute me, but the noisy zeal was lost;
Nor shouts nor triumphs forc'd my least regard,
Thy parting sighs, methought, was all I heard,
But now at Abeville by Lewis met,

I strove the thoughts of Suffolk to forget;
For here my faith was to a monarch vow'd,
And solemn rites my passion disallow'd:
However pure my former flames had been,
Unblemish'd honour made them now a sin.
But scarce my virtue had the conquest gain'd,
And ev'ry wild forbidden wish restrain'd,
When at St Dennis, with imperial state
Invested, on the Gallic throne I sat;

The day with noble tournaments was grac'd,

Your name among the British champions plac'd.

Invited by a guilty thirst of fame,
Without regard to my repose you came.
The lists I saw thee ent'ring with surprise,
And felt the dazzling glances of thine eyes.

Ye sacred Pow'rs, I cry'd, that rule above!
Defend my breast from this perfidious love.
Ye holy Lamps! before whose awful lights
I gave my hand; and ye, religious Rites!
Assist ine too; not let a thought unchaste,
Or guilty wish, my plighted honour blast:
While passion, struggling with my pious fears,
Forc'd from my eyes involuntary tears.

Some tender blossom thus, with leaves enlarg'd,
Declines its head, with midnight dew o'ercharg'd:
The passing breezes shake the gentle flow'r,
And scatter all around a pearly show'r.
From this distracting hour I shunn'd thy sight,
And gain'd the conquest by a prudent flight;
But human turns and sov'reign Destiny,
Have set me now from these engagements free.
The stars, propitious to my virgin love,
My first desires and early vows approve,
While busy politicians urge in vain,

That public reasons should my choice restrain;
That none but York's or Lancaster's high race,
Or great Plantagenet's, I ought to grace.
Nor Suffolk wants a long illustrious line,

And worth, that shall in future records shine;
They own'd thy valour, when thy conqu'ring lance
Carry'd the prize from all the youth of France.
Thy merit Henry's constant favour shows,
And envy only can my choice oppose.
Thy noble presence, wit, and fine address,
The British and the Gallic court confess.
Alencon's shape, and Vendôme's sparkling eye,
Count Paul's gay mein, and Bourbon's majesty,
No longer are admir'd when thou art by.

}