The foe address'd to unrelenting ears.

"Talk not of life, (the mournful prince replies,)
Poor LANGO dead, whoever meets me dies.
In vain a single tyrant seeks for grace,
Or any of the treach'rous Christian race:
In far, far diff'rent terms you spoke before,

Die then, proud wretch, what boots it to deplore,
Ev'n my brave brother LANGO is no more:
He far thy better was, foredoom'd to die,
And thou, dost thou bewail mortality?
Die then," he said, and as the word he spoke,
The fainting tyrant sunk beneath the stroke:
His hand forgot its grasp, nor held the spear,
While all his frame confess'd his ghastly fear.
When lo, MONDINGO his red sword display'd,
And lopp'd his head off with the smoaking blade;
Toss'd like a ball, it mutt'ring whirl'd away,
And at the victor's feet the body lay.

So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws,

}

While the grim savage grinds with foaming jaws
The trembling limbs, and sucks the spouting blood,
Deep groans and hollow roars rebellow thro' the wood.
The Christians now and sable squadrons wage

A horrid war, with undistinguish'd rage;
Here great MONDINGO Swept the fields, and there
Storm'd beauteous LAMBERT, the renown'd in war.
As the fierce flames thro' the tall forests fly,
This way and that, and kindle half the sky:
Or rapid torrents from the mountains sweep,
Roar down the sides and thunder to the deep,
With might resistless, and destructive sway,
O'er half a ruin'd country break their way:
So thro' the field in diff'rent parts engag'd,
As swift and fierce the gallant heroes rag'd;

They burst with wrath, they rise to ev'ry blow,
And send their souls with ev'ry lance they throw;
Each fights, as on his arms, the dreadful day
With all the fate of his dear country lay;
No stop, no check, the mighty heroes knew,
Still with their toils their kindling ardor grew.
With words and deeds the beauteous chief alarms
His fainting troops, and ev'ry bosom warms.
As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to tear
The brindled lion, or the tusky bear,

With voice and hands provokes their doubting heart,
And springs the foremost with his lifted dart.
So gallant LAMBERT prompts his men to dare,
Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the war:
On the black body of the foes he pours,

As from the clouds deep bosom, swell'd with show'rs,
A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps,

Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the deeps,
And twists the frothy billows till they rise,
And foaming mad, attack the low'ring skies.

And now LOUVERTURE Saw his foe from far,
Safe midst the ranks, and glitt'ring thro' the war;
Array'd in scarlet fring'd with flow'rs of gold,
With epaulets all beauteous to behold :

He towr'd aloft, with more than mortal pride,
His son, the charming LAMBERT, by his side:
He like a sable cloud refulgent shone,
Pierc'd with the glancing glories of the sun;
The blooming son illustrious virtues grace,
By birth as gen'rous as the sire was base.
A silken string constrains his locks that deck
In glossy flaxen curls his beauteous neck.
So shines a gem illustrious to behold,
On some fair virgin's neck, encas'd in gold;
54317B

So the surrounding ebon's darker hue,
Improves the polish'd ivory to view.
All bright his military scarlet flow'd,

His polish'd arms with golden splendors glow'd.
So from the ocean with a vivid ray,

Flames the refulgent star that leads the day;
Wide thro' the sky before the sacred light
Breaks and dispels the scatt'ring shades of night.
His sire he lov'd, and left his native plain,
Brav'd every danger of the land and main,
And left his mother comfortless alone,
Bereav'd of her dear, tender, loving son;
Such was his love he'd ne'er his purpose tell,
Nor take his melancholy last farewel;

Her melting tears were more than he could bear,
And filial love impel'd him to the war,

Not thirst for gold; he prov'd unto the end
A gallant hero, and a gen'rous friend;
All lov'd his person, all admir'd his parts,

Both brave in arms, and well approv'd in arts.
When WILLMORE's son harrangued the list'ning train,
Just was his sense, and his expression plain;

His word succinct, yet full without a fault,
He spoke no more than just the thing he thought;
Whene'er he rose in solemn thought profound,
His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground;

As one unskill'd or dumb he seem'd to stand,
Nor rais'd his head, nor stretch'd his beauteous hand:

But when he speaks what elocution flows,
Soft as the fleeces of descending snows;
The copious accents fall with easy art,
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart;
Wond'ring we hear, and fix'd in deep surprise,
Our ears refute the sensure of our eyes.

His beauteous ANNA, youthful, fond and good,
He left in tears, to plow the briny flood;

Few words he spoke, tho' much he had to say,

And scarce these few for tears could force their way :
"Adieu, (he cries) my soul's far dearer part,
Joy of my life, and sov'reign of my heart;
Soon we shall meet, and meet to part no more,
Nor hear winds whistle, nor the billows roar."
While thus he speaks, the tender sorrows rise,
Rain down his cheeks, and trickle from his eyes.
"Soul of my soul, and princess of my heart,
This day, (hè cries) this fatal day we part;
Yet if your love uninjur'd you retain,
Soon we shall meet in happiness again,
To part no more, but rolling years employ,
In circling bliss and never fading joy.
Alas! my boding soul is lost in woe,

And from my eyes the tears unbidden flow."
No word she spoke, tho' much she had to say,
But took a parting kiss, and swoon'd away.
Slow to the ship the pensive youth returns,
And sighs in secret, and in silence mourns.
She faints, she sinks, and when she rose again,
In part recovers strength, but to complain.
And lo, a gust of grief began to rise,

Fast streams a tide from charming ANNA's eyes;
Fast for her lover tender sorrows flow,

And boding fears enhance the mighty woe;

Then gently winding up the fair ascent,
With many a solemn step the maiden went;
And o'er the pavement glides with grace divine,
With polish'd stone the level pavements shine.
Her lovely head a veil transparent grac'd,

Her swelling loins a radiant zone embrac'd;
With purple fring'd, her under robe unbound,
Ia snowy waves flow'd glitt'ring on the ground.
Like heav'n's bright bow her native beauties shone,
That draws a thousand colours from the sun;
Back in a cambrie cap her locks were ty'd,
Her little lap-dog scamper'd by her side.
As Sol moves glorious o'er the mountain's brows,
And scatters sacred splendors as he goes,

So mov'd sweet ANNA, such her charming grace,
So glow'd the purple bloom that flush'd her face.
The folding doors resplendent rooms display'd,.
The hall with Turkey carpets overlaid.
The bolt obedient to the brazen string,
Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring;
The wards respondent to the key turn round,
The bars fall back, the flying valves resound;
There in her chamber, as she sat apart,
Resolv'd his words, and plac'd them in her heart.
On her dear LAMBERT then she fix'd her soul,
Down her fair cheeks the tears abundant roll;
Till gentle sleep, as she thus piteous cries,
In slumber clos'd her silver streaming eyes.
Thus ANNA mourn'd, nor knew her lover's doom,
Wrap'd in the cold embraces of the tomb;
Adorn'd with honors on a foreign shore,
Silent he slept, and heard of wars no more.
LOUVERTURE views the sire with stern delight,
His soul enkindles at the pleasing sight.
So joys a lion, if the branching deer,
Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear:
In vain the youths oppose, the mastiffs bay,
The lordly savage rends the panting prey..
Thus fond t' obey his sire, with a Zerce bound,