Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/87

Rh

She might have giv'n the treasures of the east E'er I had known it. She came again upon my wond'ring sight— O! didst thou mark her when she first appear'd? Still distant, slowly moving with her train; Her robe, and tresses floating on the wind, Like some light figure in a morning cloud? Then as she onward to the eye became The more distinct, the lovelier still she grew. That graceful bearing of her slender form; Her roundly-spreading breast, her tow'ring neck. Her face ting'd sweetly with the bloom of youth— But when on near approach she tow'rds us turn'd, Kind mercy! what a countenance was there! And when to our salute she gently bow'd. Didst mark that smile rise from her parting lips? Soft swell'd her glowing eheek, her eyes smil'd too; O! how they smil'd! 'twas like the beams of heav’n! I felt my roused soul within me start, Like something wak’d from sleep.

Ros. Ah! many a slumb'rer heav’n’s beams do wake To care and misery!

Bas. There's something grave and solemn in your voice As you pronounce these words. What dost thou mean? Thou wouldst not sound my knell?

Ros. No, not for all beneath the vaulted sky! But to be plain, thus earnest from your lips