Thither, whilst others in soft slumbers lay,
The restless virgin trod her silent way;
Resolved her heart should share the sad relief,
Released from doubt, to know its utmost grief:
For scarce believed she, her indignant sire,
Were calm reflection but to cool his ire,
Would dare renew his pitiless command,
Or claim obedience from the sacred band.
The rock she gain'd, but there her maddening eye
Of all she loved saw naught but ashes lie.
"Are these the sole remains the flames have spared
Of him," she cries, "who all my fond hopes shared?
Of him, alas! to whom my heart aspired,
Train'd by the virtues, and by valour fired?
Where now the eye that beams of love display'd,
And all th' emotions of the soul betray'd?
Ah! where the cheek with blushes mantled o'er ?
In vain I seek what naught can ere restore.
"But hark! methinks Valerius' voice I hear!
Yet, oh! how changed from gentle to severe !
Me, and alas! with justice, you upbraid;
Call me, with justice, cruel, thoughtless maid.
Ah! yes, I led you to the fatal snare —
And now 'tis mine a righteous doom to share.
I come, I come-yes, Tamar's fatal wave,
That brought you to your death, be now my grave."
Thus in despair the luckless victim cried,
And instant plunged beneath the foaming tide.
DEEP in a vale, o'erhung with wood,
Mid moss-crown'd rocks a cottage stood:
Before it was a winding road;
And, near, a foaming river flow'd.
Beneath its roof, an aged pair
Rear'd, but, alas! with partial care,
Two daughters: Mira, whom they styled
Their best, because their fairest, child;
And Flora, who, tho' plain in face,
Was bless'd with every mental grace.
Poor Flora was constrain'd to go,
Thro' wind and rain, and frost and snow,
At morn and eve, her flock to lead,
Or to, or from, the distant mead;
And twice each day she sought the plain,
The milk-distended kine to drain.
Fearful the sun and out-door toil
Would fade her cheek, her hands would soil,
Her sister seldom trod the ground,
Save in the garden's shelter'd bound:
There to select, with anxious care,
The brightest flowers to deck her hair;
Or, on her snowy breast to lie,
And wave responsive to her sigh:
For tenderness, the virgin knew,
Bids every beauty bloom anew.
Once, o'er the lawn, with early tread,
And milk-pail balanced on her head,
As homewards to her cot she hied,
Flora a female beggar spied,
Beneath a stunted hedge reclined,
Sad shelter from the wintry wind.
A red and ragged cloak she wore ;
The locks that hid her brow were hoar;
Her eyes, with rheumy moisture fill'd,
The bitter drops of woe distill'd,
And glimmer'd with the horrid glare
Of anguish, hunger, and despair.
The sympathy that sway'd her breast,
Thus Flora, with a sigh, express'd:
"Cease, hapless stranger! cease to plain;
For sorrow will but swell your pain.
Of hunger if thou feel'st the rage,
Or thirst-my pail can this assuage;
And that, when I, with speed return,
Shall give no further cause to mourn."
The wretch her parching lips applied,
And quaff'd the renovating tide;
Whilst, little distant from the spot,
The virgin hasten'd to her cot,
Whence with a liberal hand she bore,
Of choicest cates, a plenteous store.
The beggar's tears no longer flowed,
Her cheek with grateful blushes glow'd;
And smiling, as her eyes she dried,
Thus to the listening maid she cried :
"Long have I journey'd thro' the night,
The waning moon scarce gave her light;
And as I paced my wilder'd way,
O'er yon blue mountain dawn'd the day.
Then with a lighter heart I sped,
Alas! to yon deceitful shed;
For there (what claims not the distress'd ?)
I hoped my weary limbs to rest.
But there a nymph of fairest mien
Yet not so fair in mind I ween
Demanded why, and whence, I came,
And what my trade, and what my name;
And said, 'We have no daily cheer
For beggars or for witches here !””
Again she thank'd the maid (who sigh'd
To learn her sister's heartless pride),
And cheerfully resumed her road.
Flora return'd to her abode,
Found Mira with her doating sire,
Consulting, by the blazing fire,
What ribbons should adorn her vest,
What flowers should bloom upon her breast,
When dancing on her natal day,
"Twas hers each beauty to display.
With pleasure each revolving year,
She counted if the day was near;
For then the flatt'ring rustics swore
They wished her many hundreds more.
At length arrived the wished-for dawn; The train assembled on the lawn, Where Mira joined the sportive choir, And fill'd each heart with passion's fire. In ringlets hung her auburn hair, Or floated in the breezy air; Whilst a light robe of purple hue Gave every moving grace to view. Flora, more humble, wore a gown Herself had spun, of modest brown; And tho' not hers those charms to boast Her silly sister valued most,
Yet charms superior she possess'd,
That lay unnoticed in her breast.
Among the crowd a youth unknown,
In every manly beauty shone:
His stately mien, his graceful air,
His pleased attention to the fair,
His wit enkindling harmless mirth,
Bespoke his not ignoble birth.
Outrivall'd, yet each youth admired;
Whilst every blushing nymph aspired
To call him partner in the dance,
And lured him with love's artful glance.
At first fair Mira's sparkling eyes
Boasted that they had won the prize;
But soon they glowed with fiercer fire,
The lightning of indignant ire;
When they beheld, with dread alarm,
Flora's possess'd a stronger charm.
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