To this the Damsel, meekly firm, replied:
"My mother loved, was married, toil'd, and died;
With joys she'd griefs, had troubles in her course,
But not one grief was pointed by remorse:
My mind is fix'd, to Heaven I resign,
And be her love, her life, her comforts mine."
Tyrants have wept; and those with hearts of steel,
Unused the anguish of the heart to heal,
Have yet the transient power of virtue known,
And felt th' imparted joy promote their own.
Our Knight relenting, now befriends a youth,
Who to the yielding maid had vow'd his truth;
And finds in that fair deed a sacred joy,
That will not perish, and that cannot cloy; -
A living joy, that shall its spirits keep,
When every beauty fades, and all the passions sleep.



PART III.



Qui vultus Acherontis atri,
Qui Stygia tristem, non tristis, videt,
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Par ille Regi, par Superis erit.
SENECA, Agamemnon.

BURIALS.