Love and Honour

LET the green olive glad Hesperian shores;
Her tawny citron and her orange groves,
These let Iberia boast; but if in vain
To win the stranger plant's diffusive smile
The Briton labours, yet our native minds,
Our constant bosoms, these the dazzled world
May view with envy; these Iberian dames
Survey with fix'd esteem and fond desire.

Hapless Elvira! thy disastrous fate
May well this truth explain, nor ill adorn
The British lyre; then chiefly, if the Muse,
Nor vain nor partial, from the simple guise
Of ancient record catch the pensive lay,
And in less grov'lling accents give to fame.
Elvira! loveliest maid! th' Iberian realm
Could boast no purer breast, no sprightlier mind,
No race more splendent, and no form so fair.
Such was the chance of war, this peerless maid,
In life's luxuriant bloom, enrich'd the spoil
Of British victors, vict'ry's noblest pride!
She, she alone, amid the wailful train
Of captive maids, assign'd to Henry's care,
Lord of her life, her fortune, and her fame!

He, gen'rous youth! with no penurious hand
The tedious moments that unjoyous roll
Where Freedom's cheerful radiance shines no more
Essay'd to soften; conscious of the pang
That Beauty feels, to waste its fleeting hours
In some dim fort, by foreign rule restrain'd,
Far from the haunts of men or eye of day!

Sometimes, to cheat her bosom of its cares,
Her kind protector number'd o'er the toils
Himself had worn; the frowns of angry seas,
Or hostile rage, or faithless friend, more fell
Than storm or foe; if haply she might find
Her cares diminish'd; fruitless, fond essay!
Now to her lovely hand, with modest awe,
The tender lute he gave; she, not averse,
Nor destitute of skill, with willing hand
Call'd forth angelic strains; the sacred debt
Of gratitude, she said, whose just commands
Still might her hand with equal pride obey!

Nor to the melting sounds the nymph refus'd
Her vocal art; harmonious as the strain
Of some imprison'd lark, who, daily cheer'd
By guardian cares, repays them with a song,
Nor droops, nor deems sweet liberty resign'd.

The song, not artless, had she fram'd to paint
Disastrous passion; how, by tyrant laws
Of idiot custom sway'd, some soft-ey'd fair
Lov'd only one, nor dar'd that love reveal!
How the soft anguish banish'd from her cheek
The damask rose full-blown; a fever came,
And from her bosom forc'd the plaintive tale;
Then, swift as light, he sought the love-lorn maid,
But vainly sought her, torn by swifter fate
To join the tenants of the myrtle shade,
Love's mournful victims on the plains below.

Sometimes, as Fancy spoke the pleasing task,
She taught her artful needle to display
The various pride of spring; then swift upsprung
Thickets of myrtle, eglantine, and rose:
There might you see, on gentle toils intent,
A train of busy Loves; some pluck the flow'r,
Some twine the garland, some with grave grimace
Around a vacant warrior cast the wreath.
'Twas paint, 'twas life! and sure to piercing eyes
The warrior's face depictur'd Henry's mien.

Now had the gen'rous chief with joy perus'd
The royal scroll, which to their native home,
Their ancient rights, uninjur'd, unredeem'd,
Restor'd the captives. Forth with rapid haste
To glad his fair Elvira's ear he sprung,
Fir'd by the bliss he panted to convey;
But fir'd in vain! Ah! what was his amaze,
His fond distress, when o'er her pallid face
Dejection reign'd, and from her lifeless hand
Down dropt the myrtle's fair unfinish'd flow'r!
Speechless she stood; at length with accents faint,
" Well may my native shore," she said, "resound
" Thy monarch's praise; and ere Elvira prove
" Of thine forgetful, flow'rs shall cease to feel
" The fost'ring breeze, and Nature change her laws!"

And now the grateful edict wide alarm'd
The British host. Around the smiling youths,
Call'd to their native scenes, with willing haste
Their fleet unmoor, impatient of the love
That weds each bosom to its native soil.
The patriot passion! strong in ev'ry clime,
How justly their who find no foreign sweets
To dissipate their loves or match their own.

Not so Elvira! she, disastrous maid!
Was doubly captive; pow'r nor chance could loose
The subtle bands; she lov'd her gen'rous foe;
She, where her Henry dwelt, her Henry smil'd,
Could term her native shore; her native shore
By him deserted, some unfriendly strand,
Strange, bleak, forlorn! a desert waste and wild.

The fleet careen'd, the wind propitious fill'd
The swelling sails, the glitt'ring transports wav'd
Their pennants gay, and halcyons' azure wing,
With flight auspicious, skimm'd the placid main.

On her lone couch in tears Elvira lay,
And chid th' officious wind, the tempting sea,
And wish'd a storm as merciless as tore
Her lab'ring bosom. Fondly now she strove
To banish passion; now the vassal days,
The captive moments, that so smoothly past,
By many an art recall'd; now from her lute
With trembling fingers call'd the fav'rite sounds
Which Henry deign'd to praise; and now essay'd,
With mimic chains of silken fillets wove,
To paint her captive state; if any fraud
Might to her love the pleasing scenes prolong,
And with the dear idea feast the soul.

But now the chief return'd, prepar'd to launch
On Ocean's willing breast, and bid adieu
To his fair pris'ner. She, soon as she heard
His hated errand, now no more conceal'd
The raging flame, but with a spreading blush
And rising sigh the latent pang disclos'd.

" Yes, gen'rous youth! I see thy bosom glow
" With virtuous transport, that the task is thine
" To solve my chains, and to my weeping friends,
" And ev'ry longing relative, restore
" A soft-ey'd maid, a mild offenceless prey!
" But know, my Soldier! never youthful mind,
" Torn from the lavish joys of wild expense
" By him he loath'd, and in a dungeon bound
" To languish out his bloom, could match the pains
" This ill-starr'd freedom gives my tortur'd mind.

" What call I freedom? is it that these limbs,
" From rigid bolts secure, may wander far
" From him I love? Alas! ere I may boast
" That sacred blessing, some superior pow'r
" To mortal kings, to sublunary thrones,
" Must loose my passion, must unchain my soul:
" Ev'n that I loathe; all liberty I loathe!
" But most the joyless privilege to gaze
" With cold indiff'rence where desert is love.

" True, I was born an alien to those eyes
" I ask alone to please; my fortune's crime!
" And, ah! this flatter'd form, by dress endear'd
" To Spanish eyes, by dress may thine offend,
" Whilst I, ill-fated maid! ordain'd to strive
" With custom's load beneath its weight expire.

" Yet Henry's beauties knew in foreign garb
" To vanquish me; his form, howe'er disguis'd,
" To me were fatal! no fantastic robe
" That e'er Caprice invented, Custom wore,
" Or Folly smil'd on, could eclipse thy charms.

" Perhaps by birth decreed, by Fortune plac'd
" Thy country's foe, Elvira's warmest plea
" Seems but the subtler accent fraud inspires;
" My tend'rest glances but the specious flow'rs,
" That shade the viper while she plots her wound.
" And can the trembling candidate of love
" Awake thy fears? and can a female breast,
" By ties of grateful duty bound, ensnare?
" Is there no brighter mien, no softer smile
" For Love to wear, to dark Deceit unknown?
" Heav'n search my soul! and if thro' all its cells
" Lurk the pernicious drop of pois'nous guile,
" Full on my senceless head its phial'd wrath
" May Fate exhaust, and for my happiest hour
" Exalt the vengeance I prepare for thee!

" Ah me! nor Henry's nor his country's foe,
" On thee I gaz'd, and Reason soon dispell'd
" Dim Error's gloom, and to thy favour'd isle
" Assign'd its total merit, unrestrain'd.
" Oh! lovely region to the candid eye!
" 'Twas there my fancy saw the Virtues dwell,
" The Loves, the Graces, play, and bless'd the soil
" That nurtur'd thee! for sure the Virtues form'd
" Thy gen'rous breast, the Loves, the Graces, plann'd
" Thy shapely limbs. Relation, birth, essay'd
" Their partial pow'r in vain; again I gaz'd,
" And Albion's isle appear'd, amidst a tract
" Of savage wastes, the darling of the skies!
" And thou by Nature form'd, by Fate assign'd,
" To paint the genius of thy native shore.

" 'Tis true, with flow'rs, with many a dazzling scene
" Of burnish'd plants, to lure a female eye,
" Iberia glows; but, ah! the genial sun
" That gilds the lemon's fruit, or scents the flow'r,
" On Spanish minds, a nation's nobler boast!
" Beams forth ungentle influences. There
" Sits Jealousy enthron'd, and at each ray
" Exultant lights his slow-consuming fires.
" Not such thy charming region; long before
" My sweet experience taught me to decide
" Of English worth, the sound had pleas'd mine ear.
" Is there that savage coast, that rude sojourn,
" Stranger to British worth? the worth which forms
" The kindest friends; the most tremendous foes;
" First, best supports of liberty and love!
" No, let subjected India, while she throws
" O'er Spanish deeds the veil, your praise resound.
" Long as I heard, or ere in story read
" Of English fame, my bias'd partial breast
" Wish'd them success; and happiest she, I cry'd,
" Of women happiest she, who shares the love,
" The fame, the virtues, of an English lord.
" And now, what shall I say? Bless'd be the hour
" Your fair-built vessels touch'd th' Iberian shores:
" Bless'd, did I say, the time? if I may bless
" That lov'd event, let Henry's smiles declare.
" Our hearts and cities won, will Henry's youth
" Forego its nobler conquest? will he slight
" The soft endearments of the lovelier spoil?
" And yet Iberia's sons, with ev'ry vow
" Of lasting faith, have sworn these humble charms
" Were not excell'd; the source of all their pains,
" And love her just desert, who sues for love,
" But sues to thee, while natives sigh in vain.

" Perhaps in Henry's eye (for vulgar minds
" Dissent from his) it spreads an hateful stain
" On honest Fame amid his train to bear
" A female friend. Then learn, my gentle youth!
" Not Love himself, with all the pointed pains
" That store his quiver, shall seduce my soul
" From honour's laws. Elvira once deny'd
" A consort's name, more swift than lightning flies
" When elements discordant vex the sky,
" Shall, blushing, from the form she loves retire.

" Yet if the specious wish the vulgar voice
" Has titled Prudence, sways a soul like thine,
" In gems or gold what proud Iberian dame
" Eclipses me? Nor paint the dreary storms
" Or hair-breadth 'scapes that haunt the boundless
" And force from tender eyes the silent tear;
" When Mem'ry to the pensive maid suggests deep,
" In full contrast the safe domestic scene
" For these resign'd. Beyond the frantic rage
" Of conqu'ring heroes brave, the female mind,
" When steel'd by love, in Love's most horrid way
" Beholds not danger, or, beholding, scorns.
" Heav'n take my life, but let it crown my love!"

She ceas'd, and ere his words her fate decreed,
Impatient, watch'd the language of his eye:
There Pity dwelt, and from its tender sphere
Sent looks of love, and faithless hopes inspir'd.

" Forgive me, gen'rous maid!" the youth return'd,
" If by thy accents charm'd, thus long I bore
" To let such sweetness plead, alas! in vain!
" Thy virtue merits more than crowns can yield
" Of solid bliss, or happiest love bestow:
" But ere from native shores I plough'd the main,
" To one dear maid, by virtue and by charms
" Alone endear'd, my plighted vows I gave,
" To guard my faith, whatever chance should wait
" My warring sword: if conquest, fame, and spoil,
" Grac'd my return, before her feet to pour
" The glitt'ring treasure, and the laurel wreath,
" Enjoying conquest then, and fame and spoil:
" If Fortune frown'd adverse, and Death forbade
" The blissful union, with my latest breath
" To dwell on Medway's and Maria's name.
" This ardent vow deep-rooted, from my soul
" No dangers tore; this vow my bosom fir'd
" To conquer danger, and the spoil enjoy.
" Her shall I leave, with fair events elate,
" Who crown'd mine humblest fortune with her love?
" Her shall I leave, who now, perchance, alone
" Climbs the proud cliff, and chides my slow return?
" And shall that vessel, whose approaching sails
" Shall swell her breast with ecstasies, convey
" Death to her hopes, and anguish to her soul?
" No! may the deep my villain corse devour,
" If all the wealth Iberian mines conceal,
" If all the charms Iberian maids disclose,
" If thine, Elvira, thine, uniting all!
" Thus far prevail—nor can thy virtuous breast
" Demand what honour, faith, and love, denies."

" Oh! happy she," rejoin'd the pensive maid,
" Who shares thy fame, thy virtue, and thy love!
" And be she happy! thy distinguish'd choice
" Declares her worth, and vindicates her claim.
" Farewell my luckless hopes! my flatt'ring dreams
" Of rapt'rous days! my guilty suit, farewell!
" Yet fond howe'er my plea, or deep the wound
" That waits my fame, let not the random shaft
" Of Censure pieree with me th' Iberian dames;
" They love with caution, and with happier stars.
" And, oh! by pity mov'd, restrain the taunts
" Of levity, nor brand Elvira's flame;
" By merit rais'd, by gratitude approv'd,
" By hope confirm'd, with artless truth reveal'd,
" Let, let me say, but for one matchless maid
" Of happier birth, with mutual ardour crown'd

" These radiant gems, which burnish Happiness,
" But mock Misfortune, to thy fav'rite's hand
" With care convey; and well may such adorn
" Her cheerful front, who finds in thee alone
" The source of ev'ry transport, but disgrace
" My pensive breast, which, doom'd to lasting woe,
" In thee the source of ev'ry bliss resign.

" And now, farewell, thou darling youth! the gem
" Of English merit! Peace, content, and joy,
" And tender hopes, and young desires, farewell!
" Attend, ye smiling Train! this gallant mind
" Back to his native shores; there sweetly smooth
" His ev'ning pillow, dance around his groves,
" And where he treads with vi'lets paint his way:
" But leave Elvira! leave her, now no more
" Your frail companion! in the sacred cells
" Of some lone cloister let me shroud my shame;
" There to the matin bell, obsequious, pour
" My constant orisons. The wanton Loves
" And gay Desires shall spy the glimm'ring tow'rs,
" And wing their flight aloof: but rest confirm'd,
" That never shall Elvira's tongue conclude
" Her shortest pray'r ere Henry's dear success
" The warmest accent of her zeal employ."

Thus spoke the weeping fair, whose artless mind,
Impartial, scorn'd to model her esteem
By native customs, dress, and face, and air,
And manners, less; nor yet resolv'd in vain.
He, bound by prior love, the solemn vow
Giv'n and receiv'd, to soft compassion gave
A tender tear; then with that kind adieu
Esteem could warrant, weary'd Heav'n with pray'rs
To shield that tender breast he left forlorn.

He ceas'd, and to the cloister's pensive scene
Elvira shap'd her solitary way.