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But not in vain MONDINGO's dart is thrown;
Both struck and wounded to the shoulder bone.
Prone on his knees, oppress'd with mighty fear,
He sinks, and sees the intervening spear;
The hapless youth in suppliant posture press'd
The hero's feet, and thus his pray'r address'd:
"O spare my youth, and for the life I owe,
Large gift of price my friends will soon bestow;
Rich beads and brass shall in your town be told,
And silver trinkets, with persuasive gold."
While thus he speaks he views the fleeting skies,
While big round tears stand trembling in his eyes.
Mild pity touch'd the hero's yielding heart,
Who still suspended the destroying dart;
Compassion pleads, and pleading gains the prize,
The youth he spares, and bids the youth arise.
While thus he pities on the distant plain,
His hapless consort thought her husband slain :
She thinks, and lo, precipitate she flies,
"Alas! where is my MONDINGO?" she cries.
Then stood the mournful dame, and o'er the plain
Cast a long look to find her prince, in vain.
"Where is my prince?" she cries, "my only joy,
Where does he fight, or where his arms employ?"
A tyrant view'd her as she cross'd the plain,
A coward wretch, and HAWKINS was his name;
And while he sees, precipitate he flies,

Swift as wild wind, like lightning thro' the skies;
His sounding feet distinctly heard behind,
His panting breath comes thick in ev'ry wind:
Fearless she hears and views the dreadful fight,
The ruffian swiftly intercepts her flight:
Nor for herself nor for her babe she fears,
Nor dreads the flashing swords or flying spears;

When lo, the tyrant struck her to the ground,
And ripp'd her belly with a ghastly wound.
Now for her babe the pregnant mother fears,
While its unhappy father late appears.
Against the bloody foe with wild affright
He rush'd with grief, distracted at the sight.
The sympathetic hero heard her call,
Flies to her aid, but just to see her fall;
From the close fight MONDINGO rush'd in view,
And sent his voice before him as he flew:
"Me, me, to me alone, your rage confine,
Here sheath your sword, all, all the guilt is mine;
By yon bright sun, and by the silver flood,
Her hands, her thoughts are innocent of blood:
Nor durst the dame a bloody deed intend,
Her only crime, (and oh, can that offend,)
Was too much love for me, her dearest friend."
In vain he spoke; the ruthless sword, address'd
With rage, transfix'd OVENAL's panting breast.
With blood her sable limbs are purpled o'er,
She sobs with grief, and welters in her gore.
Like a fierce tiger o'er the plain he bounds,
Precipitate, to see the fatal wounds;

Flies to her aid in vain; with mighty fear
The ruffian vanish'd as a tim'rous deer.
So the grim lion from the slaughter comes,
Dreadful he glares, and terrible he foams;
His breast with marks of carnage painted o'er,
His jaws all dropping with the bull's black gore.
His eye first glanc'd from whence the purple spread
That stain'd the verdant green with crimson red;
He saw, he groan'd, the tears with eager pace,
Ran down his cheeks, and sprinkled all his face,
He reach'd his arms, and gave a last embrace;

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Hangs o'er his wife, in his embrace she dies,
His lips rain kisses o'er her face and eyes:
Of tender tears again he sheds a flood,
He wept abundant, and he wept aloud.
As the bold eagle with fierce sorrow stung,
Or parent vulture mourns her ravish'd young,
They cry, they scream, their unfledg'd brood a prey
To some rude youth, and borne by stealth away.
He scarcely spoke, though much he had to say,
Nor plaints, nor words, for tears could force their way.
His heart weeps blood, and tears the ground bedew,
Mix with her gore, thick as the early dew:
On his bold breast she languishingly lies,
Her head declin'd, and drooping as she dies;
She bends her languid head like golden grain,
Or some sweet rose oppress'd with mighty rain,
That droops and withers on the verdant plain.
His wife now dead, his mournful voice he sends
Before him, to his brave victorious friends,
Around her waist his loving arms he threw,
And from the bloody combat gently drew;
Towards the town he goes, and leaves the shore,
And sprinkled as he past, the fields with gore.
As some grim lion bears across the lawn,
Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn,
In his fell jaws, high lifting thro' the wood,

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And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood.
Charg'd with his languid load, with mighty woe
The prince moves on, majestically slow;
And as he pensively advanc'd more near,
Her breathless body plac'd upon a bier;
A show'r of tears then gushing from his eyes,
Alarming thus the natives with his cries:

Turn here your steps, behold with sad dismay,

Ye wretched dames and sons of Africa;

If e'er you rush'd in crowds, with vast delight,
To hail your hero, glorious from the fight;
Now view his consort murder'd by the foe,
Your common sorrow, and your common woe."
Then acting more than any words could say,
He beat his breast, and tore his hairs away;
Then on the ground his tortur'd body threw,
And grovell'd there, as to the earth he grew.
The maids and matrons with disordered charms,
Now weep aloud, and all the town alarms.

The natives hear the cries, and gathering round,
Beat their black breasts, and languish'd on the ground.
Each relative now pours a social flood,

And weeps and cries, and cries and weeps aloud.
His mother came to bear a tender part,

And mourn his anguish with a mother's heart;
She heard his cries, and as she heard she ran,
And thus the sympathetic dame began:
"Why mourns my son, and what is thy request?
Why mourns my son, and why art thou distress'd?
Why mourns my son? thy anguish let me share,
And soothe thy sorrows with a parent's care."
Deep groaning with unutterable grief,

With agonizing woe beyond belief;

He strove to say, and as he strove he shed
A flood of pearly tears, and thus he said:
"OVENAL....Ah, say mother, can I boast,
OVENAL! and with her my peace is lost;
OVENAL! lov'd of all the sable train,
Beyond her sex, beyond myself, is slain.
OVENAL dead, MONDINGO hates to live,
Nor friends, nor earth itself, can pleasure give;
Let me revenge it on proud HAWKINS' heart,

Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart :
On these conditions will I breathe; till then
I blush to walk among the race of men.
I saw my beauteous consort press the plain,
Mangled by HAWKINS, and by HAWKINS slain.
A flood of tears at this the parent shed,
"Ah! then I see thee dying, see thee dead!
When HAWKINS falls thou die'st." "Let HAWKINS die,
And let me fall," MONDINGO made reply.
"My dear, dear consort on her natal plain
She fell, and falling, wish'd my aid in vain.
Oh then, since from this miserable day,
I cast all hope of happiness away,
Since unreveng'd, my murder'd wife demands
The fate of HAWKINS from MONDINGO's hands,
Let me....but oh, ye mighty pow'rs above,
Wrath and revenge from mortal man remove;
Far, far too dear to ev'ry mortal breast,
Sweet to the heart as honey to the taste;
Gath'ring like vapours of a noxious kind,
From bad to worse, and dark'ning all the mind.
Yet I must meet the murd❜rer of my wife,
Or, (if the heav'ns ordain it) lose my life ;
Let me this instant rush into the fields,
And reap what glory life's short harvest yields;
Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so wide,
That all shall know MONDINGO Swells the tide :
Or shall he fall inanimate and dead,

No more his parent's joy, the Christian's dread."
Thus he, while Sol approach'd the western main,
And haughty tyrants press'd th' ensanguin'd plain;
Deep in the ocean sunk his golden light,

And then arose the beauteous queen of night;
O'er dewy plains her silver beams are shed,

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