Which speechless woe of his, poor she attendeth,
And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh :
Dear lord, thy forrow to my forrow lendeth
Another power; no flood by raining flaketh.
My woe too fenfible thy paffion maketh
More feeling painful: let it then fuffice
To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes.
And for my fake, when I might charm thee fo,
For fhe that was thy Lucrece,-now attend me;
Be fuddenly revenged on my foe,
Thine, mine, his own; fuppofe thou doft defend me
From what is paft: the help that thou fhalt lend me
Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die ;
For fparing juftice feeds iniquity.
But ere I name him, you fair lords, quoth she,
(Speaking to thofe that came with Collatine)
Shall plight your honourable faiths to me,
With swift purfuit to venge this wrong of mine;
For 'tis a meritorious fair defign,
To chafe injuftice with revengeful arms:
Knights, by their oaths, fhould right poor ladies' harms.
At this request, with noble difpofition
Each prefent lord began to promise aid,
As bound in knighthood to her impofition,
Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd.
But she, that yet her fad task hath not said,
The proteftation ftops. O fpeak, quoth she,
How may this forced stain be wip'd from me?
What is the quality of mine offence,
Being constrain'd with dreadful circumftance?
May my pure mind with the foul act dispense,
My low-declined honour to advance?
May any terms acquit me from this chance?
The poifon'd fountain clears itself again;
And why not I from this compelled stain ?
With this, they all at once began to fay,
Her body's stain her mind untainted clears;
While with a joyless smile she turns away
The face, that map which deep impreffion bears
Of hard misfortune, carv'd in it with tears.
No, no, quoth she, no dame, hereafter living,
By my excuse shall claim excufe's giving.
Here with a figh, as if her heart would break,
She throws forth Tarquin's name: He, be, fhe fays,
But more than be her poor tongue could not speak;
Till after many accents and delays,
Untimely breathings, fick and short afsays,
She utters this: He, he, fair lords, 'tis he,
That guides this hand to give this wound to me.
Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast
A harmful knife, that thence her foul unsheathed:
That blow did bail it from the deep unrest
Of that polluted prison where it breathed:
Her contrite fighs unto the clouds bequeathed
Her winged fprite, and through her wounds doth fly
Life's lasting date from cancel'd destiny.
Stone-ftill, aftonish'd with this deadly deed,
Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew;
Till Lucrece' father that beholds her bleed,
Himself on her felf-flaughter'd body threw ;
And from the purple fountain Brutus drew
The murderous knife, and as it left the place,
Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase;
And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide
In two flow rivers, that the crimson blood
Circles her body in on every fide,
Who like a late-fack'd island vastly stood
Bare and unpeopled, in this fearful flood.
Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd,
And some look'd black, and that false Tarquin stain'd.
About the mourning and congealed face
Of that black blood, a watery rigol goes,
Which feems to weep upon the tainted place :
And ever fince, as pitying Lucrece' woes,
Corrupted blood fome watery token shows;
And blood untainted still doth red abide,
Blushing at that which is fo putrify'd.
Daughter, dear daughter, old Lucretius cries,
That life was mine, which thou haft here depriv❜d.
If in the child the father's image lies,
Where fhall I live, now Lucrece is unliv'd?
Thou waft not to this end from me deriv'd.
If children pre-decease progenitors,
We are their offspring, and they none of ours.
Poor broken glass, I often did behold
In thy sweet semblance my old age new-born;
But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old,
Shows me a bare-bon'd death by time out-worn;
O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn!
And shiver'd all the beauty of my glafs,
That I no more can see what once I was.
O time, cease thou thy courfe, and laft no longer,
If they furceafe to be, that should survive.
Shall rotten death make conqueft of the ftronger,
And leave the faltering feeble fouls alive?
The old bees die, the young possess their hive:
Then live sweet Lucrece, live again, and fee
Thy father die, and not thy father thee!
By this starts Collatine as from a dream,
And bids Lucretius give his forrow place;
And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding ftream
He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face,
And counterfeits to die with her a fpace;
Till manly shame bids him possess his breath,
And live, to be revenged on her death.
The deep vexation of his inward foul
Hath ferv'd a dumb arrest upon his tongue;
Who mad that forrow fhould his ufe controll,
Or keep him from heart-eafing words fo long,
Begins to talk; but through his lips do throng
Weak words, fo thick come, in his poor heart's aid,
That no man could distinguish what he said.
Yet fometime Tarquin was pronounced plain,
But through his teeth, as if the name he tore.
This windy tempeft, till it blow up rain,
Held back his forrow's tide, to make it more ;
At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er:
Then fon and father weep with equal ftrife,
Who should weep moft for daughter or for wife.
The one doth call her his, the other his,
Yet neither may poffefs the claim they lay.
The father fays, fhe's mine: O mine she is,
Replies her husband: Do not take away
My forrow's intereft; let no mourner say
He weeps for her, for fhe was only mine,
And only must be wail'd by Collatine.
O, quoth Lucretius, I did give that life,
Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.
Woe, woe, quoth Collatine, she was my wife,
I owed her, and 'tis mine that she hath kill'd.
My daughter and my wife with clamours fill'd
The difpers'd air, who holding Lucrece' life,
Answer'd their cries, my daughter and my wife.
Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' fide,
Seeing fuch emulation in their woe,
Began to clothe his wit in state and pride,
Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show.
He with the Romans was esteemed fo
As filly-jeering ideots are with kings,
For sporting words, and uttering foolish things.
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