TAMERLANE.
31
To struggle thro' the Niceness of her Sex,The Blushes, and the Fears, and own she loves:Thou think'st, 'tis nothing for my artless HeartTo own my Weakness, and confess thy Triumph.
Ax.Oh! yes, I own it; my charm'd Ears ne'er knewA Sound of so much Rapture, so much Joy.Not Voices, Instruments, not warbling Birds,Not Winds, not murmuring Waters join'd in consort,Not tuneful Nature, not th' according SpheresUtter such Harmony, as when my SelimaWith down cast Looks, and Blushes said,———I love———
Sel.And yet thou say'st, I am a Niggard to thee:I swear the Balance shall be held between us,And Love be Judge, if after all the Tenderness,Tears, aud Confusion of my Virgin Soul,Thou should't complain of ought, Unjust Axalla!
Ax.Why was ever blest?——— Why is RemembranceRich with a thousand pleasing ImagesOf past Enjoyments, since 'tis but to plague me?When thou art mine no more, what will it ease meTo think of all the Golden Minutes past,To think, that thou wert kind, and I was happy:But like an Angel fall'n from Bliss, to curseMy present State, and mourn the Heav'n I've lost.
Sel.Hope better for us both; nor let thy Fears,Like an unlucky Omen, cross my way.My Father rough, and stormy in his Nature,To me was always gentle, and, with FondnessPaternal, ever met me with a Blessing.Oft when Offence had stir'd him to such Fury,That not grave Counsellors for Wisdom fam'd,Nor hardy Captains that had fought his Battles,Presum'd to speak, but struck with awful Dread,Were hush'd as Death; yet has he smil'd on me,Kis'd me, and bad me utter all my purpose;Till, with my idle Prattle I had sooth'd him,And won him from his Anger.
Ax.
