Ponteach Part 12

MONELIA.

The Earth itself is sometimes known to shake, And the bright Sun by Clouds is oft conceal'd, And gloomy Night succeeds the Smiles of Day; So Beauty oft by foulest Faults is veil'd, And after one short Blaze admir'd no more, Loses its l.u.s.tre, drops its sparkling Charms, The Lover sickens, and his Pa.s.sion dies.

Nay, worse, he hates what he so doted on.

Time only proves the Truth of Worth and Love, The one may be a Cheat, the other change, And Fears, and Jealousies, and mortal Hate, Succeed the Suns.h.i.+ne of the warmest Pa.s.sion.

CHEKITAN.

Have I not vow'd my Love to you, Monelia, And open'd all the Weakness of my Heart?

You cannot think me false and insincere, When I repeat my Vows to love you still; Each time I see you move, or hear you speak, It adds fresh Fuel to the growing Flame.

You're like the rising Sun, whose Beams increase As he advances upward to our View; We gaze with growing Wonder till we're blind, And every Beauty fades and dies but his.

Thus shall I always view your growing Charm, And every Day and Hour with fresh Delight.

Witness thou Sun and Moon, and Stars above, Witness ye purling Streams and quivering Lakes, Witness ye Groves and Hills, and Springs and Plains, Witness ye Shades, and the cool Fountain, where I first espied the Image of her Charms, And starting saw her on th' adjacent Bank, If I to my Monelia prove untrue.

MONELIA.

Hoh! now your Talk is so much like a Christian's, That I must be excus'd if I distrust you, And think your fair Pretences all designing.

I once was courted by a spruce young Blade, A lac'd Coat Captain, warlike, active, gay, c.o.c.kaded Hat and Medal on his Breast, And every thing was clever but his Tongue; He swore he lov'd, O! how he swore he lov'd, Call'd on his G.o.d and Stars to witness for him, Wish'd he might die, be blown to h.e.l.l and d.a.m.n'd, If ever he lov'd woman so before: Call'd me his Princess, Charmer, Angel, G.o.ddess, Swore nothing else was ever half so pretty, So dear, so sweet, so much to please his Taste, He kiss'd, he squeez'd, and press'd me to his Bosom, Vow'd nothing could abate his ardent Pa.s.sion, Swore he should die, should drown, or hang himself, Could not exist if I denied his Suit, And said a thousand Things I cannot Name: My simple Heart, made soft by so much Heat, Half gave Consent, meaning to be his Bride.

The Moment thus unguarded, he embrac'd, And impudently ask'd to stain my Virtue.

With just Disdain I push'd him from my Arms, And let him know he'd kindled my Resentment; The Scene was chang'd from Suns.h.i.+ne to a Storm, Oh! then he curs'd, and swore, and d.a.m.n'd, and sunk, Call'd me proud b.i.t.c.h, pray'd Heav'n to blast my Soul, Wish'd Furies, h.e.l.l, and Devils had my Body, To say no more; bid me begone in Haste Without the smallest Mark of his Affection.

This was an Englishman, a Christian Lover.

CHEKITAN.

Would you compare an Indian Prince to those Whose Trade it is to cheat, deceive, and flatter?

Who rarely speak the Meaning of their Hearts?

Whose Tongues are full of Promises and Vows?

Whose very Language is a downright Lie?

Who swear and call on G.o.ds when they mean nothing?

Who call it complaisant, polite good Breeding, To say Ten thousand things they don't intend, And tell their nearest Friends the basest Falsehood?

I know you cannot think me so perverse, Such Baseness dwells not in an Indian's Heart, And I'll convince you that I am no Christian.

MONELIA.

Then do not swear, nor vow, nor promise much, An honest Heart needs none of this Parade; Its Sense steals softly to the list'ning Ear, And Love, like a rich Jewel we most value, When we ourselves by Chance espy its Blaze And none proclaims where we may find the Prize.

Mistake me not, I don't impeach your Honour, Nor think you undeserving my Esteem; When our Hands join you may repeat your Love, But save these Repet.i.tions from the Tongue.

CHEKITAN.

Forgive me, if my Fondness is too pressing, 'Tis Fear, 'tis anxious Fear, that makes it so.

MONELIA.

What do you fear? have I not said enough?

Or would you have me swear some Christian Oath?

CHEKITAN.

No, but I fear our Love will be oppos'd, Your Father will forbid our Hands to join.

MONELIA.

I cannot think it; you are Ponteach's Son, Heir to an Empire large and rich as his.

CHEKITAN.

True; but your Father is a Friend to Britons, And mine a Foe, and now is fix'd on War, Immediate War: This Day the Chiefs a.s.semble, To raise the Hatchet, and to arm the Troops.

MONELIA.

Then I must leave your Realm, and bid Adieu, In spite of your fond Pa.s.sion, or my own; For I can never disoblige my Father, Though by it I were sure to gain an Empire.

CHEKITAN.

Then Chekitan's undone, undone for ever.

Unless your Father by kind Fate is mov'd To be our Friend, and join the Lists with mine.

TORAX.

Nothing would please me better; I love War, And think it time to curb the English Pride, And give a check to their increasing Power.

The Land is ravag'd by their numerous Bands, And every Day they're growing more our Lords.

CHEKITAN.

Are you sincere, or do you feign this Speech?

TORAX.

Indeed my Tongue does not bely my Heart; And but my Father's wrong-turn'd Policy Forbids, I'd instant join in War with you, And help to set new Limits to their Power.

CHEKITAN.

'Tis plain, if they proceed, nor you nor I Shall rule an Empire, or possess a Crown, Our Countries all will soon become a Prey To Strangers; we perhaps shall be their Slaves.

But will your Father be convinc'd of this?

TORAX.

I doubt he'll not. The good old Man esteems And dotes upon them as most worthy Friends; I've told him often that he cherish'd Serpents, To bite his Children, and destroy his Friends.

But this he calls the Folly of my Youth, Bids me be silent, show Respect to Age, Nor sow Sedition in my Father's Empire.

CHEKITAN.

Stiff as he is, he yet may be subdued; And I've a Power prepar'd that will attack him.

Should he refuse his Aid to our Design, Retire himself, and bid his Troops to follow, Yet Philip stands engag'd for his Return, Ere twice the Sun has ris'n and blest the Earth.

Philip is eloquent, and so prepar'd, He cannot fail to bend him to our Purpose.

You and Monelia have a Part to act; To linger here, should he in Haste retreat Till Philip follows and employs his Force.

Your Stay will add new Life to the Design, And be of mighty Weight to gain Success.

MONELIA.