"Some grot or graffy bank fhall be my bier,

Thus while fhe mourns, o'erwhelm'd in deep despair,

She rends her filken robes, and golden hair:

Her fatal ring, the cause of all her woes,

On a hard rock with mad'ning rage fhe throws;
The gem, rebounding from the stone, displays
Its verdant hue, and sheds refreshing rays:

Sudden defcends the genius of the ring,

And drops celeftial fragrance from his wing;

Then fpeaks, "Who calls me from the realms of day?

Ask, and I grant; command, and I obey.”

She drank his melting words with ravish'd ears, And stop'd the gushing current of her tears; Then kifs'd his skirts, that like a ruby glow'd, And faid, "O bear me to my fire's abode."

Straight o'er her eyes a fhady veil arose, And all her foul was lull'd in ftill repose. E 2

By

By this with flow'rs the rofy-finger'd dawn
Had spread each dewy hill and verd❜rous lawn;
She wak'd, and faw a new-built tomb that stood
In the dark bofom of a folemn wood,

While these fad founds her trembling ears invade
"Beneath yon marble fleeps thy father's fhade."
She figh'd, the wept ; fhe ftruck her penfive breast,
And bade his urn in peaceful flumber reft.

And now in filence o'er the gloomy land

She faw advance a flowly-winding band;

Their cheeks were veil'd, their robes of mournful hue
Flow'd o'er the lawn, and fwept the pearly dew:
O'er the fresh turf they sprinkled sweet perfume,
And ftrow'd with flow'rs the venerable tomb.
A graceful matron walk'd before the train,
And tun'd in notes of wo a plaintive strain :
When from her face her filken veil fhe drew,
The watchful maid her aged mother knew.

O'erpow'r'd

O'erpow'r'd with bursting joy she runs to meet
The mourning dame, and falls before her feet:
The matron with furprize her daughter rears,
Hangs on her neck, and mingles tears with tears.
Now o'er the tomb their hallow'd rites they pay,
And form with lamps an artificial day:
Erelong the damfel reach'd her native vale,

And told with joyful heart her moral tale;
Refign'd to heav'n, and lost to all befide,
She liv'd contented, and contented died.

ECK'D with fresh garlands, like a rural bride,

D'

And with the crimson ftreamer's waving pride,

A wanton bark was floating o'er the main,

And feem'd with scorn to view the azure plain:

Smooth were the waves, and scarce a whifp'ring gale
Fan'd with his gentle plumes the filken fail.

High on the burnish'd deck a gilded throne

With orient pearls and beaming diamonds fhone;

On