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But who can tell what Pangs, what sharp Remorse
Torment the Boian Prince? From Native Soil
Exil'd by Fate, torn from the dear Embrace
Of weeping Consort, and depriv'd the Sight
Of his young guiltless Progeny, he seeks
Inglorious Shelter, in an Alien Land;
Deplorable! but that his Mind averse
To Right, and Insincere, would violate
His plighted Faith: Why did he not accept
Friendly Composure offer'd? or well weigh,
With Whom he must Contend? Encount'ring fierce
The Solymæan Sultan, he o'erthrew
His Moony Troops, returning bravely smear'd
With Painim Blood effus'd; nor did the Gaul
Not find him once a baleful Foe: But when,
Of Counsel rash, new Measures he persues,
Unhappy Prince! (no more a Prince) he sees
Too late his Error, forc'd t' implore Relief
Of Him, he:once defy'd. O Destitute
Of Hope, unpity'd! Thou should'st first have thought
Of persevering stedfast; now upbraid
Thy own inconstant lll-aspiring Heart.
Lo! how the Noric Plains, thrô Thy Default,
Rise hilly, with large Piles of slaughter'd Knights,