But gold had not the power to raise
A semblance of her friend;
Yet kind compassion, who surveys,
Soon bids her sorrow end.

A sculptor, pity's genuine son!
Knew her well-founded grief;
And quickly, tho' he promised none,
Gave her the best relief;

He, rich in Lucy's sister's heart,
By love and friendship's aid,
Of Fido, with the happiest art,
A secret statue made.

By stealth in Lucy's chamber plac'd,
It charm'd the mourner there,
Till Edward, with new glory grac'd,
Rejoin'd his faithful fair.

The marble Fido in their sight,
Enhanc'd their nuptial bliss;
And Lucy every morn, and night,
Gave him a grateful kiss.

* * * * *