He durst not speak, by suit to purchase ruth,

She saw not, marked not, wist not what he sought; Thus loved, thus served he long, but not regarded,— Unseen, unmarked, unpitied, unrewarded.

To her came message of the murderment,

Wherein her guiltless friends should hopeless serve. She that was noble, wise, as fair and gent,

Cast how she might their harmless lives preserve:
Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment,
From maiden's shame yet was she loth to swerve;
Yet had her courage ta’en so sure a hold,
That boldness shamefast, shame had made her bold.

And forth she went,- -a shop for merchandise,

Full of rich stuff, but none for sale exposed; A veil obscured the sunshine of her eyes,

The rose within herself her sweetness closed. Each ornament about her seemly lies,

By curious chance or careless art composed; For what she most neglects, most curious prove,So beauty's helped by nature, heaven, and love.

Admired of all, on went this noble maid

Until the presence of the king she gained; Nor for he swelled with ire was she afraid,

But his fierce wrath with fearless grace sustained. "I come," quoth she,-"but be thine anger stayed,

And causeless rage 'gainst faultless souls restrained,—

I come to show thee and to bring thee, both,
The wight whose fact hath made thy heart so wroth."

Her modest boldness, and that lightning ray

Which her sweet beauty streamèd on his face,
Had strook the prince with wonder and dismay,
Changed his cheer and cleared his moody grace,
That had her eyes disposed their looks to play,
The king had snarèd been in love's strong lace:
By wayward beauty doth not fancy move;
A frown forbids, a smile engendereth love.

It was amazement, wonder, and delight,

Although not love, that moved his cruel sense. "Tell on," quoth he: "unfold the chance aright; Thy people's lives I grant for recompense."

Then she: "Behold the faulter here in sight:

This hand committed that supposed offense; It took the image; mine that fault, that fact, Mine be the glory of that virtuous act."

This spotless lamb thus offered up her blood
To save the rest of Christ's selected fold:

O noble lie! was ever truth so good?

Blest be the lips that such a leasing told. Thoughtful awhile remained the tyrant wood;

His native wrath he 'gan a space withhold, And said, "That thou discover soon, I will, What aid, what counsel hadst thou in that ill?»

"My lofty thoughts," she answered him, "envied Another's hand should work my high desire; The thirst of glory can no partner bide:

With mine own self I did alone conspire."

"On thee alone," the tyrant then replied,

"Shall fall the vengeance of my wrath and ire.” «'Tis just and right," quoth she: "I yield consent,— Mine be the honor, mine the punishment."

The wretch, of new enragèd at the same,

Asked where she hid the image so conveyed:

"Not hid," quoth she, "but quite consumed with flame, The idol is of that eternal maid;

For so at least I have preserved the same

With hands profane from being eft betrayed. My lord, the thing thus stolen demand no more: Here see the thief, that scorneth death therefor.

"And yet no theft was this; yours was the sin: I brought again what you unjustly took."

This heard, the tyrant did for rage begin

To whet his teeth, and bend his frowning look;
No pity, youth, fairness no grace could win;
Joy, comfort, hope, the virgin all forsook;

Wrath killed remorse, vengeance stopped mercy's breath, Love's thrall to hate, and beauty slave to death.

Ta'en was the damsel, and without remorse;

The king condemned her, guiltless, to the fire; Her veil and mantle plucked they off by force, And bound her tender arms in twisted wire;

Dumb was this silver dove, while from her corse
These hungry kites plucked off her rich attire:
And for some-deal perplexèd was her sprite,
Her damask late now changed to purest white.

The news of this mishap spread far and near;
The people ran, both young and old, to gaze:
Olindo also ran, and 'gan to fear

His lady was some partner in this case;
But when he found her bound, stripped from her gear,
And vile tormentors ready saw in place,

He broke the throng, and into present brast,
And thus bespake the king in rage and haste:-

"Not so, not so this girl shall bear away

From me the honor of so noble feat:
She durst not, did not, could not, so convey
The massy substance of that idol great;
What sleight had she the wardens to betray?

What strength to heave the goddess from her seat? No, no, my lord, she sails but with my wind." (Ah, thus he loved, yet was his love unkind!)

He added further, "Where the shining glass
Lets in the light amid your temple's side,
By broken byways did I inward pass,

And in that window made a postern wide:
Nor shall therefore the ill-advised lass

Usurp the glory should this fact betide;

Mine be these bonds, mine be these flames so pure,— Oh, glorious death, more glorious sepulture."

Sophronia raised her modest looks from ground,
And on her lover bent her eyesight mild:
"Tell me what fury, what conceit unsound,
Presenteth here to death so sweet a child?
Is not in me sufficient courage found

To bear the anger of this tyrant wild?
Or hath fond love thy heart so overgone?
Wouldst thou not live, not let me die alone?"

Thus spake the nymph, yet spake but to the wind;
She could not alter his well-settled thought:

Oh, miracle! oh, strife of wondrous kind!

Where love and virtue such contention wrought.

Where death the victor had for meed assigned,

Their own neglect each other's safety sought;
But thus the king was more provoked to ire,—
Their strife for bellows served to anger fire.

He thinks (such thoughts self-guiltiness finds out)

They scorned his power, and therefore scorned the pain:
"Nay, nay," quoth he; "let be your strife and doubt
You both shall win, and fit reward obtain."

With that the serjeant bent the young man stout,
And bound him likewise in a worthless chain,
Then back to back fast to a stake both ties,-
Two harmless turtles, dight for sacrifice.

About the pile of fagots, sticks, and hay,

The bellows raised the newly kindled flame,
When thus Olindo, in a doleful lay,

Begun too late his bootless plaints to frame:
"Be these the bonds? is this the hoped-for day
Should join me to this long-desirèd dame?
Is this the fire alike should burn our hearts?
Ah! hard reward for lovers' kind desarts!

"Far other flames and bonds kind lovers prove,
For thus our fortune casts the hapless die;
Death hath exchanged again his shafts with love,
And Cupid thus lets borrowed arrows fly.
O Hymen, say, what fury doth thee move

To lend thy lamps to light a tragedy?
Yet this contents me,- that I die for thee:
Thy flames, not mine, my death and torment be.

"Yet happy were my death, mine ending blest,
My torments easy, full of sweet delight,
If this I could obtain,- that breast to breast

Thy bosom might receive my yielded sprite;
And thine with it, in heaven's pure clothing drest,
Through clearest skies might take united flight."
Thus he complained, whom gently she reproved,
And sweetly spake him thus, that so her loved:-

"Far other plaints, dear friend, tears and laments,
The time, the place, and our estates require:
Think on thy sins, which man's old foe presents
Before that Judge that quites each soul his hire;

XXV-906

For His name suffer, for no pain torments

Him whose just prayers to His throne aspire. Behold the heavens: thither thine eyesight bend; Thy looks, sighs, tears, for intercessors send."

The pagans loud cried out to God and man,

The Christians mourned in silent lamentation: The tyrant's self, a thing unused, began

To feel his heart relent with mere compassion; But not disposed to ruth or mercy than,

He sped him thence, home to his habitation: Sophronia stood, not grieved nor discontented; By all that saw her, but herself, lamented.

The lovers, standing in this doleful wise,

A warrior bold unwares approachèd near, In uncouth arms yclad, and strange disguise, From countries far but new arrivèd there: A savage tigress on her helmet lies,—

The famous badge Clorinda used to bear; That wonts in every warlike stour to win,

By which bright sign well known was that fair inn.

She scorned the arts these seely women use;

Another thought her nobler humor fed:

Her lofty hand would of itself refuse

To touch the dainty needle or nice thread;

She hated chambers, closets, secret mews,

And in broad fields preserved her maidenhead:

Proud were her looks, yet sweet, though stern and stout; Her dame, a dove, thus brought an eagle out.

While she was young, she used with tender hand

The foaming steed with froarie bit to steer;

To tilt and tourney, wrestle in the sand,

To leave with speed Atlanta swift arreare; Through forests wild and unfrequented land

To chase the lion, boar, or rugged bear; The satyrs rough, the fauns and fairies wild, She chased oft, oft took, and oft beguiled.

This lusty lady came from Persia late;

She with the Christians had encountered eft, And in their flesh had opened many a gate

By which their faithful souls their bodies left.