Classic Poem

The subtile dame, who now the occasion spied
To tear C ONSTANTIA from her A LLA'S side,
Debauch'd the messenger, his mandate stole,
And forged in Offa's name the crafty scroll;
Wherein she framed a tale with wondrous art,
" How the feign'd Fair by witchcraft won his heart,
" Seduced his senses with infernal lore,
" And a dread monster, hideous offspring! bore. "
But A LLA , of whose fond, whose faithful breast,
His Consort was the dear eternal guest,
Unmoved, return'd — " His bliss was too refined,
" Without the just allay that Heaven assigned;
" And what C ONSTANTIA bore, or Heaven decreed,
" To be unwelcome, must be strange indeed! "

This letter too the courier, as before,
To Britain's Dowager unweeting bore;
And in the surfeit of oblivious wine
Left her to perpetrate the black design.
This too she cancell'd, forged the Regal Hand,
And pityless inscribed " the dire command,
" With threats, that Offa, to the wonted sea,
" Should the false Queen and hated Imp convey;
" And there permit the now detested Dame
" To seek the shore from whence the sorceress came. "

When Offa had the barbarous mandate read,
To Heaven his eyes and lifted hands he spread.
Like Niobe to marble turn'd, he stood;
Grief, fear, and horror, froze the generous blood;
Again he stirr'd, as from some wistful dream;
Again he read — alas! he read the same.

But, tho' in terms of soothing phrase exprest,
When now C ONSTANTIA learn'd her Lord's behest,
Keen anguish, piercing to the springs of life,
At once arrests the Mother and the Wife:
For not, to her alone confined, as late
When bold she stood the weightiest stroke of fate,
A thousand cares of soft endearing kind,
Now share with Heaven the motions of her mind;
And with fond thoughts of sweet concern divide,
The melting Mother, and the clasping Bride:
And these alone her bursting bosom rend,
And o'er the couch her lifeless limbs extend.

Fame pour'd the mourning populace around;
In gushing anguish every eye is drown'd;
Compassion set her virtues full to view,
And with their Queen bade every joy adieu;
Swift from his throne they wish their A LLA hurl'd,
And her crown'd empress of the peopled world:
But ah! in vain their prayers and tears delay;
Strict was the charge, and Offa must obey.

With heavy heart and faint reluctant hand,
He led the Mourner to the neighbouring strand:
She to the heaving whiteness of her breast,
With melting looks, her helpless Infant prest;
And thus, while sobs her piteous accent broke,
Her little inattentive child bespoke.

" Weep not, sweet Wretch! Tho' such thy father's will,
" Yet hast thou one, one tender parent still.
" Peace, peace! to thee thy Mother means no harm;
" Nor let our lot thy little heart alarm:
" O'er thee, till death, o'er thee my cares shall wake,
" And love thee for thy cruel Father's sake. "

Had every sire as on the banks of Nile,
Lost his first-born throughout Britannia's isle;
Or death with undistinguish'd carnage swept
Wives, sons, and sires, by all the living wept;
Such haply were the woes that now deplore
Their Queen attended to the echoing shore:
They tear their locks, their rueful bosoms smite,
And trace her bark with long pursuing sight.