She sprang with joy, and palpitating heart, To meet the one for whom she sigh'd apart : She ask'd if danger caus'd him thus to stay, He said, no danger had induced delay. His joyful friends, now, each in turn did greet, And welcome Lucius to his calm retreat. And when the news which he had heard was told To teach the young, and compliment the old, The wit and humor, and the jest went round, The pleasing story, and the lore profound. But, while their words in cheerful tones did fall, Loud knocks resounded through the sounding hall; And in the midst of harmless joy and mirth, In rush'd a band to give new crimes their birth. They told brave Lucius he must soon prepare To meet his death, for such their orders were. Struck with the summons lo! his consort lies: The big tears starting from her lovely eyes : Those eyes grew dim: her rosy colour fled, A deathly paleness o'er her beauty spread. Those words like thunder sank her on the floor & O! save, she cry'd, but could not utter more, 'Till nature, bursting from the hands of death, Recall'd her senses, and restor❜d her breath. Then, looking round, and seeing all in tears, She felt again the force of female fears. Relaps'd, amid her weeping friends she lay : Her lilly hands were cold as wintry clay. And round her face the pores did now suffuse Drops, cold and chilly as autumnal dues.
With solemn pause, with fears, and heart felt sighs,
Her friends stood round, and wip'd their tearful eyes.
Their bosoms felt the pangs of fear and grief,
While Lucius begg'd to give his spouse relief,
Her griefs he felt, nor other griefs would own;
If death he fear'd, he fear'd for her alone.
When nature, conquering in this second strife,
Had twice recall'd his consort back to life,
She look'd for Lucius; rais'd her drooping head;
New spirits come, and to his arms she sped.
Her mournful eyes in pity seem'd to trace
Each lovely feature of his manly face.
And, while on him she cast the tenderest look,
Her tortur'd bosom, still convulsive shook,
In mournful silence still she view'd his face,
And tears of anguish, gushing, stream'd apace.
Till speech return'd, and then she fondly cried ;
No: death shall never, you and me divide !
If you must die, so must your consort too :
In life or death, I'll live or die with you:
Nor will I ever from my Lucius part,
But share his fortune, or protect his heart.
Sometimes, when grief gave indignation place,
She curs'd the Nero's, curs'd their stupid race :
Then try'd to move, and from her fluent tongue,
The softest strains of cogent reason rung.
But deaf to truth, and pity's plaintive strain,
As hungry wolves when bleating lambs complain,
They dragg'd her spouse to grope a dungeons gloom,
And lie in chains till death should fix his doom.
His pensive consort trac'd the dreary way,
And found the dungeon where her Lucius lay:
And as she enter'd, hearing clanking chains,
A thrilling coldness ran through all her veins,
Her tears flow'd faster, though so long undried,
O where is Lucius! sadly faint she cry'd,
They met together in the gloomy cell;
Together wept, and bade the world farewell.
The dungeons gloom renew'd the edge of grief:
I come, she sigh'd, I come without relief.
Alas! no hope, no ray of hope appears :
And death must shortly end these woes and tears.
Whatever death, appears to you the best,
Shall send us both to seek eternal rest.
But here she paus'd, her grief suppress'd her breath,
Her soul seem'd struggling in the arms of death.
With equal pain, he view'd his dearer part;
Her mournful anguish reach'd his manly heart.
With falt'ring voice, while tears bedew'd his eyes,
For thee, he cried, my sharpest sorrows rise:
Thou partner dear, forget thy cares, and live;
To thee this world, much pleasure yet may give:
The cruel tyrant can't survive me long :
His crimes increase, and make his foes more strong.
Endure to live, and see that pest die first,
By high and low, by all the nation, curs'd;
Perhaps well halter'd through the streets expos'd;
By injur'd crowds on ev'ry side enclos'd;
Beat, pelted, kick'd, before the public eye;
Asham'd to live, and yet afraid to die,
'Till crowds, enrag'd, shall rend his limbs apart; And end this pest to ev'ry feeling heart.
Speak not of joy, the gen'rous fair replied,
How many tyrants have already died.
If Nero falls, some other prince will rise
To slay the righteous, and destroy the wise;
And thus, this world, where all the just are slain;
Will torture life as long as kings shall reign:
And if you die, my comfort, soul, and friend,
Then joys must cease, and then my life shall end.
She thus resolv'd, when Lucius met his doom,
To die; and rest within her husband's tomb :
And, while he bled, before his final breath,
She pierc'd her veins, and hop'd to sleep in death
But lay unconscious, when the doctors came,
And sav'd her ling'ring, just departing flame :
And, though preserv'd, she blam❜d pragmatic skill
For saving life against the owner's will:
And 'till her death, her pallid cheek could show
The mark of wrong, and monument of woe.
No skill, no art, nor friend of man, could save,
The guiltless Lucius from an early grave.
He sought retirement; but he sought in vain ;
The stupid Nero wish'd to see him slain,
And, hence, soon after he had left the court,
That restless tyrant spread some false report
Of plots, conspiracies, or secret plans;
These form'd a pretext for unjust commands.
With these accus'd, the sage was doom'd to death:
With stoic firmness, he resign'd his breath;
For, while his blood was leaving ev'ry vein,
He taught his friends, and bade them not complain
With kind instructions, thus their griefs allay'd;
And said, the just ought not to be dismay'd:
But, being righteous, bravely yield their breath;
And feel no terrors at approaching death.
The guilty wretch alone, has cause to dread,
The dismal regions of the guilty dead.
While thus he spoke, his blood in streams did flow;
And much he wish'd to leave this world of woe.
And hence he ask'd for some destructive bane,
To end his ling'ring and tormenting pain.
The baneful drug, the doctor soon procur'd,
To end the pangs his patient friend endur❜d.
But this prov'd fruitless: and the bath was tried ;
And in it's streams, the honest Lucius died.
Thus died a sage, so gentle, kind, and just,
His name will flourish though he sleep in dust.
The sight of Lucius! gasping bath'd in gore,
Made many weep who seldom wept before:
Caus'd them to know what evils monarchs cause,
And curse those foes to just and equal laws.
Though abler pens may take a bolder flight;
Doubt not, O reader, of the truths I write.
Much more indeed, the just historian told;
And shocking truths, his useful books unfold.
And yet, one half, historians dare not tell;
Who censures tyrants where the tyrants dwell?
But still, for modesty, too much is told:
She blushes often as the leaves unfold:
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