She bathes her babe in tears, her infant boy,
The father's darling, and the mother's joy.
The prince this heard, and rush'd without delay,
Swift o'er the plain, and trod his former way;
First bade MONDINGO march where glory calls,
And watch the Christians by their wooden walls :
"E'er yet I mingle in the bloody fray

(He cries) my consort claims a moment's stay;
This day, the last perhaps that sees me here,
Demands a parting kiss, a tender tear;
This day perhaps, I press my native land,

Slain by some treach'rous foe, some Christains' hand."
He said, and saying, with an aching heart,
Pass'd on to meet his soul's far dearerpart.

With haste to meet him sprang the mournful dame,
His blameless wife rush'd weeping o'er the plain ;
And as she runs, in close embraces press'd,
His lovely babe hung smiling at her breast;
With tears of joy t' his outstretch'd arms she flew,
And strain'd him close as to his breast she grew;
Touch'd to the soul the prince with anguish hears
Her sad complaints, and speaks his grief in tears;
Quick thro' his heart her mighty sorrows ran,
Grief seiz❜d the prince and wrapt up all the man!
He view'd his wife oppress'd with mighty woe,
And wip'd her tears as they spontaneous flow;
H' embrac❜d his mournful consort, and resign'd
To solemn sadness all his mighty mind.
The charming SILVAN cast a wishful look,
Hung round his neck, and thus dejected spoke;
She strove to speak, but first sad boding sighs,
Broke from her breast, tears trinkled from her eyes;
“My dear, dear prince, ah! whither wilt thou run,
And leave thy weeping wife, and smiling son?

Ah! think how melancholy we shall be,
A widow I, an helpless orphan he;
Thy furious courage length of life denies,
This day thou fall'st thy country's sacrifice:
Proud HAWKINS and his armies strove in vain,
Now hosts invade us, and thou must be slain.
Oh! may I, ere LOUVERTURE meets his doom,
With my poor babe lie in our silent tomb :
Ere I, enslav'd by bloody Christians, go
To plow their land, oppress'd with mighty woe;
So shall my evil days, with sorrow run,
And end with anguish, as they first begun ;
No parents now remain my woes to share,
No tender mother, nor no brother's care.
The cruel Christians wrapt our town in fire,
Laid EBO waste, and sold my warlike sire,
By them my twenty valiant brothers fell,
And none return'd their mighty wrongs to tell;
While herds and snowy flocks they fearless fed,
Amidst their flocks th' intrepid heroes bled :
My sister liv'd to bear the robber's bands,
Was drag'd in tears from her paternal lands:
The hapless maiden ne'er beheld again
Her dear, dear country, and her native plain;
But, ah! oppress'd with agonizing woe,
She fell a victim to her lustful foe.

Yet, while LOUVERTURE still survives, I see
My mother, sister, brothers, sire in thee;
Alas! my father, mother, brethren all,

Once more must perish, if my prince should fall ;
Alas my prince!" she said, and strove to say,
But floods of pearly tears stop'd up the way.
LOUVERTURE heard her plaints with silent woe,
And while he heard, the tears unbidden flow;

He views his babe with momentary joy,
Stretch'd his fond arms, and clasp'd the smiling boy.
As to the ship-wreck'd mariner, the shores
Delightful rise, when angry Neptune roars;
Then when the surge in thunder mounts the sky,
And gulf'd, in crowds at once the sailors die;
If one more happy while the tempest raves
Outlives the tumult of conflicting waves,

All pale, with ooze deform'd, he views the strand,
And plunging forth, with transport grasps the lande
The loving prince with equal rapture glows,
Clasps his lov'd child, and to his bosom grows;
And lo! the chief now lifting high in air
Perform'd to heav'n his fond paternal pray'r
"Almighty Jove, thou ruler of the skies,
Protect my child, my helpless child, (he cries)
And if I fall, oh! Jove when I'm no more
Preserve him fatherless, relieve him poor;
My helpless sire defend;" he prays with woe,
While down his cheeks the filial sorrows flow.
"Immortal sire, who fill's th' ætherial throne,
From lawless ruffians save my wife and son;
Pity the orphan's and the widow's woe.
And save them from the savage Christian foe;
My bleeding country save, our warriors lead,
To certain victory;" the hero said.
Then fondly gazing on his consort's charms,
Restor❜d the smiling infant to her arms:
Soft on her heaving breast the babe she laid,
Kiss'd his sweet lips, and with a smile survey'd,
The transitory joy; chastis'd by fear,

She mingled with the smile a silent tear.
The tender prince with kind compassion mov❜d,
First dry'd the falling tear, and thus pursu'd;

"Then SILVAN, oh! thy mighty griefs I dread, I see, or think I see thee captive led,

To bear the Christians' hard commands, and forc'd To plow their lands, serve their promiscuous lust; May I be cold before that fatal day,

Press'd with a load of our paternal clay :

But why SILVAN my soul's far dearer part,
Why, why for me thus heaves thy panting heart?
No hostile hand can antidote my doom,
Till Jove condemns me to the silent tomb;
Depend on him, to him for succour run,
His will is just, and let his will be done;
He sees your grief, my father's misery,
He sees, and with parental sympathy:
No more, but hasten to my sire at home,
And comfort him, all mournful and alone;
Tell him this moment to the fight I fly,
Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die;
Me glory summons to the martial scene,
The field of combat is the sphere for men :
Where heroes fight the foremost place I claim,
The first in danger, as the first in fame,”
Then lo! the prince while tears in torrents fell
Kiss'd wife and child, and took his last farewell.
His consort parts with a prophetic sigh,
Unwillingly, and oft reverts her eye;
Tears gush at ev'ry look, then moving slow,
She join❜d the matrons, and indulg'd her woe;
And while her tears deplor'd th' intrepid man,
Thro' all the sable train th' infection ran;

The mournful dames their mingled sorrows shed,
And mourn their prince as tho' their prince was dead.
The valiant chief now wipes the tears away.
Invincible he treads his former way,

Bold and majestic with a dauntless air,
The mighty chief anticipates the war;
In his fond hopes already has he won
The field, before the battle is begun ;
He views the ships, and raging at the view,
Swift to his chiefs th' intrepid hero flew.
As the gay pamper'd steed with loosen'd reins,
Breaks from the stall, and prances o'er the plains,
With large smooth strokes he rushes to the flood,
Bathes his bright sides and cools his fi'ry blood,
Neighs as he flies, and tossing high his head,
Snuffs the fair females in the distant mead;
At ev'ry motion, o'er his neck reclin❜d,
His golden mane all dances in the wind.
Thus flew the prince, and midst the fainting crowd,
High on a hill, he rais'd his voice aloud;
The atmosphere re-echoes to the sound,
The warriors start, the distant woods rebound.
As the loud trumpet's brazen mouth from far,
With shrilling clangor sounds th' alarm of war;
Struck from the walls the echoes float on high,
And the round bulwarks and high tow'rs reply;
So high his thund'ring voice LOUVERTURE rear'd,
Th' astonish'd chieftains trembled as they heard:
And as they see their valiant chief appear,
They feel fresh courage, and refuse to fear,
They view their prince with glory and delight,
Each beating bosom claims the rising fight.
Thro' all his martial myrmidons he moves,
Some he encourages, and some reproves.

"Brave men (he cries) your gen'rous hearts inflame
With mutual honour, and with mutual shame ;
Think of your hopes, your persons, all the care
Your wives, your infants, and your parents share ;