Prevent his least desire, and every wish fulfil.” } Hail, happy power! that to the present lends Such views; not all on Fortune’s wheel depends: Hope, fair enchantress, drives each cloud away, And now enjoys the glad, but distant, day. Still fears ensued; for love produces fear.— 420 “To this dear maid can I indeed be dear? My fatal oath, alas! I now repent; Stern in his purpose, he will not relent; Would, ere that oath, I had Camilla seen! I had not then my honour’s victim been; I must be honest, yet I know not how, ’Tis crime to break, and death to keep my vow.” Sir Owen closely watch’d both maid and man, And saw with joy proceed his cruel plan; Then gave his praise—“She has it—has it deep 430} In her capricious heart—it murders sleep; } You see the looks that grieve, you see the eyes that weep; } Now breathe again, dear youth, the kindling fire, And let her feel what she could once inspire.” Alas! obedience was an easy task, So might he cherish what he meant to ask; He ventured soon, for Love prepared his way, He sought occasion, he forbad delay; In spite of vow foregone he taught the youth The looks of passion, and the words of truth; 440 In spite of woman’s caution, doubt, and fear, He bade her credit all she wish’d to hear; An honest passion ruled in either breast, And both believed the truth that both profess’d. But now, ’mid all her new-born hopes, the eyes Of fair Camilla saw through all disguise, Reserve, and apprehension—Charles, who now Grieved for his duty, and abhorr’d his vow, Told the full fact, and it endear’d him more; She felt her power, and pardon’d all he swore, 450 Since to his vow he could his wish prefer, And loved the man who gave his world for her. What must they do, and how their work begin, Can they that temper to their wishes win? They tried, they fail’d; and all they did t’ assuage The tempest of his soul provoked his rage; The uncle met the youth with angry look, And cried, “Remember, sir, the oath you took; You have my pity, Charles, but nothing more, Death, and death only, shall her peace restore; 460 And am I dying?—I shall live to view The harlot’s sorrow, and enjoy it too. “How! Words offend you? I have borne for years Unheeded anguish, shed derided tears, Felt scorn in every look, endured the stare Of wondering fools, who never felt a care; On me all eyes were fix’d, and I the while Sustain’d the insult of a rival’s smile. “And shall I now—entangled thus my foe— My honest vengeance for a boy forego? 470 A boy forewarn’d, forearm’d? Shall this be borne, And I be cheated, Charles, and thou forsworn? Hope not, I say, for thou mayst change as well } The sentence graven on the gates of hell— } Here bid adieu to hope—here hopeless beings dwell. } “But does she love thee, Charles? I cannot live