" Yet, oh! my great Deliverer, he cry'd,
" Can such amazing Worth in Man reside?
" Or can it be that Christian Doctrines teach
" Virtues beyond our sacred Prophet's Reach?
" But oh! whate'er the won'drous Cause, receive
" As much of Gratitude as Words can give;
" Nor let these bursting Tears its Force destroy,
" Slaves late of Grief, soft Offspring now of Joy,
" And how my Deeds shall with my Words agree,
" Let me once reach my Country, thou shalt see,
" And find thy mighty Bounty is not lost.
" I scorn to ask thee what my Freedom cost,
" That to my Gratitude has no regard,
" Up to thy Worth I'll measure the Reward,
" Yet can that be " ? " Stop there, Cornaro said,
" If thou art happy, I am more than paid.
" But that thy Happiness meet no delay,
" There's Gold wherewith to speed thee on thy Way.
" If grateful thou wou'dst be, at thy Return,
" Amid the Crouds that there in Bondage mourn,
" Search our some Christian from the wretched Band
" Who best shall merit Freedom at thy Hand,
" Then think 'tis in thy Pow'r to pay my Debt,
" By showing him the Mercy thou hast met.
He said, and to his Lodging back return'd,
(Honour's bright Lamp within him gently burn'd)
Felt and enjoy'd the Riot of his Breast,
While Conscience furnish'd out the noble Feast.
As free as Air from Prison just broke out,
The Turk with rapid speed the Harbour sought,
There found a Ship all trim with' spreading Sails,
And just prepar'd to catch the coming Gales,
Smyrna her Port; with prosp'rous Winds she flies,
And gives him to his Home and former Joys.
Livernie now, as his Ferrara known,
Her Trade, her Arts, her Pleasures all his own,
Where next for Knowledge was Cornaro flown?
For a Soul's Banquet far he need not fly,
Venice , old Ocean's fairest Child, so nigh;
O'er the proud Adriatick where she stood,
That swells unenvious of the Tuscan Flood,
Tho' Naples, Florence on his Banks he names,
And to him Tiber pours from Rome his Streams,
When o'er the Continent fell Slav'ry flew,
Hither the Goddess Liberty withdrew;
Here plac'd her Cap, her Staff, her Armour here,
And, as her own fierce Sparta , held it dear.
Each Art and Science this their Dwelling own,
As Guardians to their Goddess Freedom 's Throne;
And as her Hand-Maid busy Commerce toils,
Her Sister Goddess Plenty chearful smiles.
Here glad Cornaro fix'd; and hop'd to find
Whate'er might please a Knowledge-loving Mind,
Or where the Columns rose with beauteous Wreath,
Or Sculpture seem'd to speak, or Paint to breath,
And tho' each Day increas'd his curious Store
Thought his capacious Soul had room for more;
And little deem'd the Moment was so nigh,
When all these Pleasures of his Breast should die,
The Beams of Science from his Soul retire
And fade, extinguish'd by a nobler Fire;
As kindled Wood, howe'er its Flames may rise,
When the bright Sun appears, in Embers dies.
Minerva sudden from his Soul was fled,
And Venus reign'd successive in her stead.
A thousand fair ones of her frolick. Train,
Long at the Youth had aim'd their Shafts in vain;
Lanc'd from the wanton Eye they sought his Heart,
But Virtue's Temper still repuls'd the Dart,
Nor all their Force nor Poison need he fear,
Virtue must tip the Point that enter'd there;
As Diamonds scorn the Pow'r of keenest Steel,
And touch'd alone by Fellow-Gems can feel.
One Glance at last an easy Passage found,
And undirected made the deeper Wound;
From Modesty's bright Quiver it was sent,
Nor knew its beauteous Owner where it went.
From chaste Delphina 's pow'rful Eye it came,
Malta to Venice lent the charming Dame;
Malta , blest Isle! Whose Daughters all are fair,
Whose Sons to Manly Fortitude are dear,
So properly do Love and Glory meet,
And Valour still with Beauty holds his Seat.
Soon as his Breast receiv'd the potent Ray,
Whate'er possest it, instantly gave way;
As in the Wood before the Lightning's Beam,
Perish the Leaves, and the whole Tree is Flame.
To Venice by a noble Father sent,
Some pleasing Months the Fair one there had spent,
Beneath a tender Uncle's careful Eye;
Where but to him should then Cornaro fly?
To him he did each Circumstance unfold,
His Country, Riches, Parentage he told;
At last confess'd his honourable Flame,
Begg'd his Permission to address the Dame,
And did his Leave obtain; nor long he su'd
E'er the coy Maid was in her turn subdu'd,
Nor Chastity itself a Blush put on,
To be by such a Lover quickly won.
Smoothly thus far to Happiness he went,
Nought now was wanting but the Sire's Consent;
Which one, endow'd as he, was sure to gain,
And needed only see him to obtain.
Th' observing Uncle mark'd the wond'rous Youth,
Fathorn'd his Love, his Virtue, and his Truth;
Said — to her Father, pleas'd he, they wou'd speed,
He said, and strait th'enamour'd Youth agreed.
Lo! with its precious freight the Vessel stor'd,
Cornaro and his Happiness on Board;
Blest with chaste Beauty he such Trifles scorn'd,
As Jason stole, or Menelaus mourn'd.
Can Gold the Heart like piercing Beauty move?
Or what is Lust compar'd with sacred Love?
And now for Malta with full Sails they stand —
Saw, knew, and all but trod the wish'd for Land;
When oh! sad Proof of Fortune's al'tring Brow,
False as the Skies above, and Seas below!
A Turkish Galley mark'd 'em from a-far,
Pursu'd the Vessel unprepar'd for War,
Resistance vain with Numbers overbore,
And led them wretched Slaves to Smyrna 's Shore.
Can Words, what Thought can scarce conceive, express;
The Uncle's, Virgin's, Lover's deep Distress?
Compar'd with which the mangling Knife wou'd please,
And the fierce Rack's severest Pain be Ease.
Death in his horrid'st Form had met their Pray'rs,
But that was Liberty, and so not theirs.
And now to publick Sale expos'd they stood,
Amid the chaff'ring Turks insulting Croud,
Immortal Souls, the Property decreed
Of the best Bidder, like the grass-fed Steed,
E'en this the Lovers bore, each other near,
And, yet unparted, knew not full Despair.
But see! at length accomplish'd Woe arrive,
To deal the last, worst Wound she had to give;
Her sable Store she cull'd the Dart to find,
Nor left one half so venom'd Shaft behind.
Amongst the Dealers at this cruel Fair,
Traffick accurst, that makes Mankind its Ware!
A youthful Turk pais'd poor Cornaro by,
Health flush'd his Cheek, and Lust enflam'd his Eye;
And to the Female Slaves his Way he bent;
'Twas there his Gold must have its wanton Vent.
How should Delphina 'scape his prying Sight?
Too fatally, in spite of Anguish, bright!
Her Breast took Beauty from the heaving Sigh,
Nor cou'd the Tear, that drown'd, eclipse her Eye,
But falling on her damask Cheek it stood,
Like the Pearl Dew-drop on the Morning Bud.
He quickly saw the too-distinguish'd Fair,
And thought his Prophet's Paradise was there.
Her Price at once unquestioning he paid,
The fatal Veil around her Beauties spread,
And led exulting off the swooning Maid.
'Twas then Cornaro felt Despair compleat,
And knew the worst Extreme of tort'ring Fate.
Furies to plague him more had strove in vain,
And gnawing Vultures not encreas'd his Pain,
Too fierce for human Nature to sustain,
He sunk beneath his Sorrow's wondrous Load,
And senseless from Excess of Pain he stood.
" Can such amazing Worth in Man reside?
" Or can it be that Christian Doctrines teach
" Virtues beyond our sacred Prophet's Reach?
" But oh! whate'er the won'drous Cause, receive
" As much of Gratitude as Words can give;
" Nor let these bursting Tears its Force destroy,
" Slaves late of Grief, soft Offspring now of Joy,
" And how my Deeds shall with my Words agree,
" Let me once reach my Country, thou shalt see,
" And find thy mighty Bounty is not lost.
" I scorn to ask thee what my Freedom cost,
" That to my Gratitude has no regard,
" Up to thy Worth I'll measure the Reward,
" Yet can that be " ? " Stop there, Cornaro said,
" If thou art happy, I am more than paid.
" But that thy Happiness meet no delay,
" There's Gold wherewith to speed thee on thy Way.
" If grateful thou wou'dst be, at thy Return,
" Amid the Crouds that there in Bondage mourn,
" Search our some Christian from the wretched Band
" Who best shall merit Freedom at thy Hand,
" Then think 'tis in thy Pow'r to pay my Debt,
" By showing him the Mercy thou hast met.
He said, and to his Lodging back return'd,
(Honour's bright Lamp within him gently burn'd)
Felt and enjoy'd the Riot of his Breast,
While Conscience furnish'd out the noble Feast.
As free as Air from Prison just broke out,
The Turk with rapid speed the Harbour sought,
There found a Ship all trim with' spreading Sails,
And just prepar'd to catch the coming Gales,
Smyrna her Port; with prosp'rous Winds she flies,
And gives him to his Home and former Joys.
Livernie now, as his Ferrara known,
Her Trade, her Arts, her Pleasures all his own,
Where next for Knowledge was Cornaro flown?
For a Soul's Banquet far he need not fly,
Venice , old Ocean's fairest Child, so nigh;
O'er the proud Adriatick where she stood,
That swells unenvious of the Tuscan Flood,
Tho' Naples, Florence on his Banks he names,
And to him Tiber pours from Rome his Streams,
When o'er the Continent fell Slav'ry flew,
Hither the Goddess Liberty withdrew;
Here plac'd her Cap, her Staff, her Armour here,
And, as her own fierce Sparta , held it dear.
Each Art and Science this their Dwelling own,
As Guardians to their Goddess Freedom 's Throne;
And as her Hand-Maid busy Commerce toils,
Her Sister Goddess Plenty chearful smiles.
Here glad Cornaro fix'd; and hop'd to find
Whate'er might please a Knowledge-loving Mind,
Or where the Columns rose with beauteous Wreath,
Or Sculpture seem'd to speak, or Paint to breath,
And tho' each Day increas'd his curious Store
Thought his capacious Soul had room for more;
And little deem'd the Moment was so nigh,
When all these Pleasures of his Breast should die,
The Beams of Science from his Soul retire
And fade, extinguish'd by a nobler Fire;
As kindled Wood, howe'er its Flames may rise,
When the bright Sun appears, in Embers dies.
Minerva sudden from his Soul was fled,
And Venus reign'd successive in her stead.
A thousand fair ones of her frolick. Train,
Long at the Youth had aim'd their Shafts in vain;
Lanc'd from the wanton Eye they sought his Heart,
But Virtue's Temper still repuls'd the Dart,
Nor all their Force nor Poison need he fear,
Virtue must tip the Point that enter'd there;
As Diamonds scorn the Pow'r of keenest Steel,
And touch'd alone by Fellow-Gems can feel.
One Glance at last an easy Passage found,
And undirected made the deeper Wound;
From Modesty's bright Quiver it was sent,
Nor knew its beauteous Owner where it went.
From chaste Delphina 's pow'rful Eye it came,
Malta to Venice lent the charming Dame;
Malta , blest Isle! Whose Daughters all are fair,
Whose Sons to Manly Fortitude are dear,
So properly do Love and Glory meet,
And Valour still with Beauty holds his Seat.
Soon as his Breast receiv'd the potent Ray,
Whate'er possest it, instantly gave way;
As in the Wood before the Lightning's Beam,
Perish the Leaves, and the whole Tree is Flame.
To Venice by a noble Father sent,
Some pleasing Months the Fair one there had spent,
Beneath a tender Uncle's careful Eye;
Where but to him should then Cornaro fly?
To him he did each Circumstance unfold,
His Country, Riches, Parentage he told;
At last confess'd his honourable Flame,
Begg'd his Permission to address the Dame,
And did his Leave obtain; nor long he su'd
E'er the coy Maid was in her turn subdu'd,
Nor Chastity itself a Blush put on,
To be by such a Lover quickly won.
Smoothly thus far to Happiness he went,
Nought now was wanting but the Sire's Consent;
Which one, endow'd as he, was sure to gain,
And needed only see him to obtain.
Th' observing Uncle mark'd the wond'rous Youth,
Fathorn'd his Love, his Virtue, and his Truth;
Said — to her Father, pleas'd he, they wou'd speed,
He said, and strait th'enamour'd Youth agreed.
Lo! with its precious freight the Vessel stor'd,
Cornaro and his Happiness on Board;
Blest with chaste Beauty he such Trifles scorn'd,
As Jason stole, or Menelaus mourn'd.
Can Gold the Heart like piercing Beauty move?
Or what is Lust compar'd with sacred Love?
And now for Malta with full Sails they stand —
Saw, knew, and all but trod the wish'd for Land;
When oh! sad Proof of Fortune's al'tring Brow,
False as the Skies above, and Seas below!
A Turkish Galley mark'd 'em from a-far,
Pursu'd the Vessel unprepar'd for War,
Resistance vain with Numbers overbore,
And led them wretched Slaves to Smyrna 's Shore.
Can Words, what Thought can scarce conceive, express;
The Uncle's, Virgin's, Lover's deep Distress?
Compar'd with which the mangling Knife wou'd please,
And the fierce Rack's severest Pain be Ease.
Death in his horrid'st Form had met their Pray'rs,
But that was Liberty, and so not theirs.
And now to publick Sale expos'd they stood,
Amid the chaff'ring Turks insulting Croud,
Immortal Souls, the Property decreed
Of the best Bidder, like the grass-fed Steed,
E'en this the Lovers bore, each other near,
And, yet unparted, knew not full Despair.
But see! at length accomplish'd Woe arrive,
To deal the last, worst Wound she had to give;
Her sable Store she cull'd the Dart to find,
Nor left one half so venom'd Shaft behind.
Amongst the Dealers at this cruel Fair,
Traffick accurst, that makes Mankind its Ware!
A youthful Turk pais'd poor Cornaro by,
Health flush'd his Cheek, and Lust enflam'd his Eye;
And to the Female Slaves his Way he bent;
'Twas there his Gold must have its wanton Vent.
How should Delphina 'scape his prying Sight?
Too fatally, in spite of Anguish, bright!
Her Breast took Beauty from the heaving Sigh,
Nor cou'd the Tear, that drown'd, eclipse her Eye,
But falling on her damask Cheek it stood,
Like the Pearl Dew-drop on the Morning Bud.
He quickly saw the too-distinguish'd Fair,
And thought his Prophet's Paradise was there.
Her Price at once unquestioning he paid,
The fatal Veil around her Beauties spread,
And led exulting off the swooning Maid.
'Twas then Cornaro felt Despair compleat,
And knew the worst Extreme of tort'ring Fate.
Furies to plague him more had strove in vain,
And gnawing Vultures not encreas'd his Pain,
Too fierce for human Nature to sustain,
He sunk beneath his Sorrow's wondrous Load,
And senseless from Excess of Pain he stood.