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Then plaintive speaks, 'Ah! fond mistaken maid!
How was thy mind by gilded hopes betray'd!
Why didst thou wish for bowers and flowery hills,
For smiling meadows, and for purling rills;
Since on those hills no youth or damsel roves,

Nor shepherd haunts the solitary groves?
Ye meads that glow with intermingled dyes,
Ye flowering palms that from yon hillocks rise,
Ye quivering brooks that softly murmur by,
Ye panting gales that on the branches die;
Ah! why has Nature thro' her gay domain
Display'd your beauties, yet display'd in vain ?
In vain, ye flowers, you boast your vernal bloom,
And waste in barren air your fresh perfume.
Ah! leave, ye wanton birds, yon, lonely spray;
Unheard you warble, and unseen you play :
Yet stay till fate has fix'd my early doom,
And strow with leaves a hapless damsel's tomb.
Some grot or grassy bank shall be my bier,
My maiden herse unwater'd with a tear.'

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

She rends her silken robes, and golden hair :

Her fatal ring, the cause of all her woes,

On a hard rock with maddening rage she throws;

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The gem, rebounding from the stone, displays
Its verdant hue, and sheds refreshing rays :
Sudden descends the Genius of the Ring,
And drops celestial fragrance from his wing;
Then speaks, 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 kiss'd his skirts, that like a ruby glow'd,
And said, 'O bear me to my sire's abode.'

Strait, o'er her eyes a shady veil arose, And all her soul was lull'd in still repose.

By this, with flow'rs the rosy-finger'd dawn Had spread each dewy hill and verdurous lawn : She wak'd; and saw a new built tomb, that stood In the dark bosom of a solemn wood; While these sad sounds her trembling ears invade, • Beneath yon marble, sleeps thy father's shade!' She sigh'd; she wept; she struck her pensive breast; And bade his urn in peaceful slumber rest.

And now, in silence, o'er the gloomy land, She saw advance a slowly-winding band;

Their cheeks were veil'd, their robes of mournful hue
Flow'd o'er the lawn, and swept the pearly dew;
O'er the fresh turf they sprinkled sweet perfume,
And strow'd with flowers the venerable tomb.
A graceful matron walk'd before the train,
And tun'd in notes of woe the funeral strain :
When from her face the silken veil she drew,
The watchful maid her aged mother knew.
O'erpower'd with bursting joy, she runs to meet
The mourning dame, and falls before her feet :
The matron with surprise 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.
Ere long the damsel reach'd her native vale,
And told with joyful heart, her moral tale :
Resign'd to heaven, and lost to all beside,
She liv'd contented, and contented died.

c2

THE SEVEN FOUNTAINS.

AN EASTERN ALLEGORY.

[IBID.]

DECK'D with fresh garlands like a rural bride,
And with the crimson streamer's waving pride,
A wanton bark was floating o'er the main;
And seem'd, with scorn, to view the azure plain :
Smooth were the waves; and scarce a whispering gale
Fan'd with his gentle plumes the silken sail.
High on the burnish'd deck, a gilded throne
With orient pearls and beaming diamonds shone;
On which reclin'd a youth of graceful mien,
His sandals purple, and his mantle green;
His locks, in ringlets, o'er his shoulders roll'd,
And on his cheek appear'd the downy gold.
Around him stood a train of smiling boys,
Sporting with idle cheer and mirthful toys;
Ten comely striplings,* girt with spangled wings,
Blew piercing flutes, or touch'd the quivering strings;

* The follies of youth.

Ten more, in cadence to the sprightly strain,
Wak'd with their golden oars the slumb'ring main :
The waters yielded to their guiltless blows,
And the green billows sparkled as they rose.

Long time the barge had danc'd along the deep, And on its glassy bosom seem'd to sleep ; But now a glittering isle* arose in view, Bounded with hillocks of a verdant hue: Fresh groves and roseate bowers appear'd above; (Fit haunts, be sure, of pleasure and of love;) And, higher still, a thousand blazing spires Seem'd with gilt tops to threat the heavenly fires. Now each fair stripling plied his lab'ring oar, And strait the pinnace struck the sandy shore. The youth arose, and, leaping on the strand, Took his lone way along the silver sand; While the light bark, and all the airy crew, Sunk like a mist beneath the briny dew.

1

With eager steps, the young adventurer stray'd Through many a grove, and many a winding glade: At length he heard the chime of tuneful strings, Thats weetly floated on the Zephyr's wings;

* The world.

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