ZARA
,
AT
THE
COURT
OF
ANAMABOE
,
TO
THE
AFRICAN
PRINCE
WHEN
IN
ENGLAND
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
SHOULD
I
the
language
of
my
heart
conceal
,
Nor
warmly
paint
the
passion
that
I
feel
;
My
rising
wish
should
groundless
fears
confine
,
And
doubts
ungenerous
chill
the
glowing
line
;
Would
not
my
prince
,
with
nobler
warmth
,
disdain
That
love
,
as
languid
,
which
could
stoop
to
feign
?
Let
guilt
dissemble
—
in
my
faithful
breast
Love
reigns
unblam'd
,
and
be
that
love
confest
.
I
give
my
bosom
naked
to
thy
view
,
For
,
what
has
shame
with
innocence
to
do
?
In
fancy
,
now
,
I
clasp
thee
to
my
heart
,
Exchange
my
vows
,
and
all
my
joys
impart
.
I
catch
new
transport
from
thy
speaking
eye
;
—
But
whence
this
sad
involuntary
sigh
?
Why
pants
my
bosom
with
intruding
fears
?
Why
,
from
my
eyes
,
distil
unbidden
tears
?
Why
do
my
hands
thus
tremble
as
I
write
?
Why
fades
thy
lov'd
idea
from
my
sight
?
O
!
art
thou
safe
on
Britain's
happy
shore
,
From
winds
that
bellow
,
and
from
seas
that
roar
?
And
has
my
prince
—
(
Oh
,
more
than
mortal
pain
!
)
Betray'd
by
ruffians
,
felt
the
captive's
chain
?
Bound
were
those
limbs
,
ordain'd
alone
to
prove
The
toils
of
empire
,
and
the
sweets
of
love
?
Hold
,
hold
!
Barbarians
of
the
fiercest
kind
!
Fear
Heaven's
red
lightning
—
'tis
a
prince
ye
bind
;
A
prince
,
whom
no
indignities
could
hide
,
They
knew
,
presumptuous
!
and
the
gods
defied
.
Where-e'er
he
moves
,
let
love-join'd
reverence
rise
,
And
all
mankind
behold
with
Zara's
eyes
!
Thy
breast
alone
,
when
bounding
o'er
the
waves
To
Freedom's
climes
,
from
slavery
and
slaves
;
Thy
breast
alone
the
pleasing
thought
could
frame
Of
what
I
felt
,
when
thy
dear
letters
came
:
A
thousand
times
I
held
them
to
my
breast
,
A
thousand
times
my
lips
the
paper
prest
:
My
full
heart
panted
with
a
joy
too
strong
,
And
"
Oh
,
my
prince
!
"
died
faultering
on
my
tongue
:
Fainting
I
sunk
,
unequal
to
the
strife
,
And
milder
joys
sustain'd
returning
life
.
Hope
,
sweet
enchantress
,
round
my
love-sick
head
Delightful
scenes
of
blest
delusion
spread
.
"
Come
,
come
,
my
prince
!
my
charmer
!
haste
away
;
"
Come
,
come
,
I
cried
,
thy
Zara
blames
thy
stay
.
"
For
thee
,
the
shrubs
their
richest
sweets
retain
;
"
For
thee
,
new
colours
wait
to
paint
the
plain
;
"
For
thee
,
cool
breezes
linger
in
the
grove
,
"
The
birds
expect
thee
in
the
green
alcove
;
"
Till
thy
return
,
the
rills
sorget
to
fall
,
"
Till
thy
return
,
the
sun
,
the
soul
of
all
!
—
"
He
comes
,
my
maids
,
in
his
meridian
charms
,
"
He
comes
refulgent
to
his
Zara's
arms
:
"
With
jocund
songs
proclaim
my
love's
return
;
"
With
jocund
hearts
his
nuptial
bed
adorn
.
"
Bright
as
the
sun
,
yet
gentle
as
the
dove
,
"
He
comes
,
uniting
majesty
and
love
.
"
—
Too
soon
,
alas
!
the
blest
delusion
flies
;
Care
swells
my
breast
,
and
sorrow
fills
my
eyes
.
Ah
!
why
do
thy
fond
words
suggest
a
fear
—
Too
vast
,
too
numerous
,
those
already
here
!
Ah
!
why
with
doubts
torment
my
bleeding
breast
,
Of
seas
which
storms
controul
,
and
foes
insest
!
My
heart
,
in
all
this
tedious
absence
,
knows
No
thoughts
but
those
of
seas
,
and
storms
,
and
foes
.
Each
joyless
morning
,
with
the
rising
sun
,
Quick
to
the
strand
my
feet
spontaneous
run
:
"
Where
,
where's
my
prince
!
what
tidings
have
ye
brought
!
"
Of
each
I
met
,
with
pleading
tears
I
sought
.
In
vain
I
sought
,
some
,
conscious
of
my
pain
,
With
horrid
silence
pointed
to
the
main
.
Some
with
a
sneer
the
brutal
thought
exprest
,
And
plung'd
the
dagger
of
a
barbarous
jest
.
Day
follow'd
day
,
and
still
I
wish'd
the
next
,
New
hopes
still
flatter'd
,
and
new
doubts
perplex'd
;
Day
follow'd
day
,
the
wish'd
to-morrow
came
,
My
hopes
,
doubts
,
fears
,
anxieties
the
same
.
At
length
—
"
O
Power
Supreme
!
whoe'er
thou
art
,
"
Thy
shrine
the
sky
,
the
sea
,
the
earth
,
or
heart
;
"
Since
every
clime
,
and
all
th'
unbounded
main
,
"
And
hostile
barks
,
and
storms
,
are
thy
domain
,
"
If
faithful
passion
can
thy
bounty
move
,
"
And
goodness
sure
must
be
the
friend
of
love
,
"
Safe
to
these
arms
my
lovely
prince
restore
,
"
Safe
to
his
Zara's
arms
,
to
part
no
more
.
"
O
!
grant
to
virtue
thy
protecting
care
,
"
And
grant
thy
love
to
love's
availing
prayer
,
"
Together
then
,
and
emulous
to
praise
,
"
A
flowery
altar
to
thy
name
we'll
raise
;
"
There
,
first
and
last
,
on
each
returning
day
,
"
To
thee
our
vows
of
gratitude
we'll
pay
.
"
Fool
that
I
was
,
to
all
my
comfort
blind
,
Why
,
when
thou
went'st
,
did
Zara
stay
behind
?
How
could
I
fondly
hope
one
joy
to
prove
,
'Midst
all
the
wild
anxieties
of
love
?
Had
fate
in
other
mold
,
thy
Zara
form'd
,
And
my
bold
breast
in
manly
friendship
warm'd
,
How
had
I
glow'd
exulting
at
thy
side
!
How
all
the
shafts
of
adverse
fate
defied
!
Or
yet
a
woman
,
and
not
nerv'd
for
toil
,
With
thee
,
O
!
had
I
turn'd
a
burning
soil
!
In
the
cold
prison
had
I
lain
with
thee
,
In
love
still
happy
,
we
had
still
been
free
;
Then
fortune
brav'd
,
had
own'd
superior
might
,
And
pin'd
with
envy
,
while
we
forc'd
delight
.
Why
shouldst
thou
bid
thy
love
remember
thee
?
Thine
all
my
thoughts
have
been
,
and
still
shall
be
.
Each
night
the
cool
Savannahs
have
I
sought
,
And
breath'd
the
fondness
of
enamour'd
thought
;
The
curling
breezes
murmur'd
as
I
sigh'd
,
And
hoarse
,
at
distance
,
roar'd
my
soe
the
tide
:
My
breast
still
haunted
by
a
motly
train
,
Now
doubts
,
now
hopes
prevail'd
,
now
joy
,
now
pain
,
Now
fix'd
I
stand
,
my
spirit
fled
to
thine
,
Nor
note
the
time
,
nor
see
the
sun
decline
;
Now
rouz'd
I
start
,
and
wing'd
with
fear
I
run
,
In
vain
,
alas
!
for
'tis
myself
I
shun
.
When
kindly
sleep
its
lenient
balm
supplied
,
And
gave
that
comfort
waking
thought
denied
.
Last
night
—
but
why
,
ah
Zara
!
why
impart
,
The
fond
,
fond
fancies
of
a
love-sick
heart
?
Yet
true
delights
on
fancy's
wings
are
brought
,
And
love's
soft
raptures
realiz'd
in
thought
—
Last
night
I
saw
,
methinks
I
see
it
now
—
Heaven's
awful
concave
round
thy
Zara
bow
;
When
sudden
thence
a
flaming
chariot
flew
,
Which
earth
receiv'd
,
and
six
white
coursers
drew
.
Then
—
quick
transition
—
did
thy
Zara
ride
,
Borne
to
the
chariot
—
wonderous
—
by
thy
side
:
All
glorious
both
,
from
clime
to
clime
we
flew
,
Each
happy
clime
with
sweet
surprize
we
view
.
A
thousand
voices
sung
—
"
All
bliss
betide
"
The
prince
of
Lybia
,
and
his
faithful
bride
.
"
"
'Tis
done
,
'tis
done
,
"
resounded
thro'
the
skies
.
And
quick
aloft
the
car
began
to
rise
;
Ten
thousand
beauties
crowded
on
my
sight
,
Ten
thousand
glories
beam'd
a
dazzling
light
.
My
thoughts
could
bear
no
more
,
the
vision
fled
,
And
wretched
Zara
view'd
her
lonely
bed
.
—
Come
,
sweet
interpreter
,
and
ease
my
soul
;
Come
to
my
bosom
,
and
explain
the
whole
.
Alas
!
my
prince
—
yet
hold
,
my
struggling
breast
!
Sure
we
shall
meet
again
,
again
be
blest
.
"
Hope
all
,
thou
say'st
,
I
live
,
and
still
am
free
;
"
O
!
then
prevent
those
hopes
,
and
haste
to
me
.
Ease
all
the
doubts
thy
Zara's
bosom
knows
,
And
kindly
stop
the
torrent
of
her
woes
.
But
,
that
I
know
too
well
thy
generous
heart
,
One
doubt
,
than
all
,
more
torment
would
impart
:
'Tis
this
,
in
Britain's
happy
courts
to
shine
,
Amidst
a
thousand
blooming
maids
,
is
thine
—
But
thou
,
a
thousand
blooming
maids
among
,
Art
still
thyself
,
incapable
of
wrong
;
No
outward
charm
can
captivate
thy
mind
,
Thy
love
is
friendship
heighten'd
and
refin'd
;
'Tis
what
my
soul
,
and
not
my
form
inspires
,
And
burns
with
spotless
and
immortal
fires
.
Thy
joys
,
like
mine
,
from
conscious
truth
arise
,
And
,
known
these
joys
,
what
others
canst
thou
prize
?
Be
jealous
doubts
the
curse
of
sordid
minds
;
Hence
,
jealous
doubts
,
I
give
ye
to
the
winds
.
—
Once
more
,
O
come
!
and
snatch
me
to
thy
arms
!
Come
,
shield
my
beating
heart
from
vain
alarms
!
Come
,
let
me
hang
enamour'd
on
thy
breast
,
Weep
pleasing
tears
,
and
be
with
joy
distrest
!
Let
me
still
hear
,
and
still
demand
thy
tale
,
And
,
oft
renew'd
,
still
let
my
suit
prevail
!
Much
still
remains
to
tell
and
to
enquire
,
My
hand
still
writes
,
and
writing
prompts
desire
;
My
pen
denies
my
last
farewell
to
write
,
Still
,
still
,
"
return
,
"
my
wishful
thoughts
indite
:
O
!
hear
,
my
prince
,
thy
love
,
thy
mistress
call
,
Think
o'er
each
tender
name
,
and
hear
by
all
.
O
!
pleasing
intercourse
of
soul
with
soul
,
Thus
,
while
I
write
,
I
see
,
I
clasp
thee
whole
;
And
these
kind
letters
trembling
Zara
drew
,
In
every
line
shall
bring
her
to
thy
view
.
Return
,
return
,
in
love
and
truth
excell
;
Return
,
I
write
;
I
cannot
add
—
Farewell
.