Epilogue

Escap'd from Turkey, and from prison free, Yet still a SLAVE you shall behold in me; An English slave—slave to your ev'ry pleasure, Seeking your plaudits as her richest treasure.

Whilst thus you feast with cheering praise my ear, For our soft poet I confess some fear. Perhaps you'll say,—"Two marriages for love! "Thus foolish female pens for ever rove; "But give us, Madam, give us, real life, "Who goes to Turkey pray, to fetch a wife?"

Critic! a few months past I wou'd allow Your comment just, but not, Sir Surly, now! For now we know A PRINCE can cross the seas T' obtain a wife, a nation's hearts to please. "The age of chivalry" again returns, And love, with all its ancient splendor burns; Yes— Tell the rapt Orator whose magic pen So late chastised the new found rights of men— Who fear'd that honor, courage, love were lost, And Europe's glories in the whirlwind tost; Tell him "heroic enterprise" shall still survive, And "loyalty to sex" remain alive; "The unbrought grace of life" again we find, And "proud submission" fills the public mind; T'wards her, now borne to BRITAIN's happy coast— A husband's honor, and a nation's boast. "Just lighted on this orb the vision shines "Scarce seems to touch," and as it moves, refines! O, may she long adorn this chosen isle, Where the best gifts of fate unceasing smile! When, "like the morning star" at wond'rous height, She soars at length beyond this world and night, Still may your blessings to her name be given, While soft she fades into her native heaven!