"Oh Father! who in mercy reigns, If thy all-ruling will ordains, That my unhappy Cen'lin dies, Remove the picture from my eyes! At the same moment set us free, Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!" Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r, With all the wildness of despair; Then, stilling every rising sigh, He calm'd the anguish of his eye, And though within the burthen lay, He wip'd the falling tears away. When lo! there comes a youthful train, Descending swiftly to the plain, Drest like the fairest sons of day, In floating robes and colours gay; No crested helmets there appear, No glittering shield or pointed spear, But youths with honey-suckles crown'd, Or their fair locks with fillets bound, Whose circling ranks and varied dyes, Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies. Whilst in the van a pair were seen, Of peerless charms and graceful mien; One lovely form the Mercians knew, And gladden'd at the pleasing view, Who, with the glow of youthful prime, Had all the majesty of time. And beauteous was the fair he led, As any fabled Grecian maid; The nymphs who tend Aurora's car, And usher in the morning star, Though made inhabitants of air, Were not more elegant and fair; Nor Dian's ever-healthful train, When skimming o'er the spacious plain. Had not more pure, more lively dyes, Or brighter lustre in their eyes. The king, so late by woe deprest, Felt hope reanimate his breast, And as his Cen'lin nearer drew, His waking hopes more vivid grew. "My friends," he cried, "will you believe, That open mien can e'er deceive? That blooming form can e'er unfold, A heart ungenerous and cold, That melting softness of the eye, Can harbour direst cruelty? Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r, Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r. Nor are those youths with amber hair, Such as fell treason would prepare, An aged monarch to dethrone, And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan. Gay are their looks, no dark disguise, Dims the mild radiance of their eyes; No murderous thoughts their souls employ, But, heralds of transporting joy, They come to bid suspicion cease, And sooth my sorrow into peace." Caution could scarce awhile controul The strong delights of Cenulph's soul, When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride. But, when he first essay'd to speak, A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek, He hung awhile his graceful head, Till thus, with air confus'd he said: "I come, by love with honours crown'd, Yet sorrow casts a shade around, That when my consort here I bring, The heiress of a potent king, The Mercians, clad in armour, come, To lead their princess to her home. No joyful hail our nuptial greets, No proof of love my Ela meets, But scarlet banners, waving high, The bridal knot and wreath supply. Alas! I see mistrust has won E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son; Or could my ever-honour'd sire, A proof of Cen'lin's faith require? Can force so needful now appear, To aid a pow'r which I revere? When eager beauty's form to view,