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My patience I will put in ure,

My charity I will extend;
Since for my woe there is no cure,

The helpless now I will befriend :
The widow and the fatherless
I will relieve, when in distress.

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Thus she continued year by year

In doing good to every one ; Her fame was noised every where, To young

and old the same was known, That she no company would mind, Who were to vanity inclin'd.

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Mean while Ulysses fought for fame,

'Mongst Trojans hazarding his life : Young gallants, hearing of her name,

Came flocking for to tempt his wife: For she was lovely, young, and fair, No lady might with her compare.

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With costly gifts and jewels fine,

They did endeavour her to win ;
With banquets and the choicest wine,

For to allure her unto sin :
Most persons were of high degree, ,
Who courted fair Penelope.

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With modesty and comely grace

Their wanton suits she did denyé : No tempting charms could e'er deface

Her dearest husband's memorye; But constant she would still remain, Hopeing to see him once again.

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Her book her dayly comfort was,

And that she often did peruse;
She seldom looked in her glass;

Powder and paint she ne'er would use.
I wish all ladies were as free
From pride, as was Penelope.

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She in her needle took delight,

And likewise in her spinning-wheel;
Her maids about her every night

Did use the distaff, and the reel :
The spiders, that on rafters twine,
Scarce spin a thread more soft and fine.

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Sometimes she would bewail the loss

And absence of her dearest love :
Sometimes she thought the seas to cross,

Her fortune on the waves to prove.
I fear my lord is slain, quoth she,
He stays so from Penelope.

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At

At length the ten years siege of Troy

Did end; in flames the city burn'd;
And to the Grecians was great joy,

To see the towers to ashes turn'd:
Then came Ulysses home to see
His constant, dear, Penelope,

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O blame her not if she was glad,

When she her lord again had seen.
Thrice-welcome home, my dear, she said,

A long time absent thou hast been:
The wars shall never more deprive
Me of my lord whilst I'm alive.

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Fair ladies all, example take;

And hence a worthy lesson learn,
All youthful follies to forsake,

And vice from virtue to discern:
And let all women strive to be
As constant as Penelope.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS,

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XI.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.

By Col. Richard Lovelace: from the volume of his poems, intitled “Lucasta, Lond. 1649,” 12mo. The elegance of this writer's manner would be more admired if it had somewhat more of simplicity.

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde,

That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde,

To warre and armes I flie.

True, a new mistresse now I chase,

The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.

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Yet this inconstancy is such,
As

you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, deare, so much,

Lov'd I not honour more.

VOL. III.

XII. XII.

VALENTINE AND URSINE.

The old story-book of Valentine and Orson (which suggested the plan of this tale, but it is not strictly followed in it) was originally a translation from the French, being one of their earliest attempts at romance. See " Le Bibliotheque de Romans, &c.”

The circumstance of the bridge of bells is taken from the old metrical legend of Sir Bevis, and has also been copied in the Seven Champions. The original lines are,

“Over the dyke a bridge there lay,
“ That man and beest might passe away:
“ Under the brydge were sixty belles;
“Right as the Romans telles ;
“ That there might no man passe in,
“ But all they rang with a gyn.”

Sign. E. iv.

In the Editor's folio MS. was an old poem on this subject, in a wretched corrupt state, unworthy the press : from which were taken such particulars as could be adopted.

PART THE FIRST.

W:

Hen Flora 'gins to decke the fields
With colours fresh and fine,
Then holy clerkes their mattins sing

To good Saint Valentine !

The

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