£793 the solitudes. qt 
star of night,--who, serene and calm as his heart, casts her 
gentle rays on him. At last he takes his lyre,—he sings 
the praise of the almighty, and his accents spread afar, 
acrofs the darknefs and the silence of the forests. A se- 
cond time Doris comes to find him in the valley: calm 
as a fine evening, and’ serene as the summer’s night, they 
return to their rural habitation and fall asleep in the midst 
of repese. Thus slept Adam in the arms df his innocent 
wife, whilst, guarded by angels, inhabited delicious 
Eden. . . . « * Where fhall I find the plea. 
sures which I have been painting ? Where is the wise man 
happy ? and how long does his felicity endure ?- Alas! 
we may perhaps soon see him bathing, with his tears, the 
the tomb of his beloved wife. Spring no longer flourifh- 
es for him; his lyre is become mute; he detests the 
light of day—the fhades of night increase his grief; he 
sighs, he withes for the moment that will unite his athes 
to those of his dear Doris. 
But if heaven fhould spare him : if tears of sorrow never 
bath’d his eyes, would he be insensible to the misfor- 
tunes of others,—to the misfortunes of his friends ? Would 
he see with an indifferent eye virtue in distrefs? Ah! 
if he has a feeling heart, how can he be happy here be- 
low ? and if he has not, how can he take the name of wise, 
Alas! for one happy incident, how many scenes of sorrow 
there are in the stage of life! There a furious warrior 
destroys the master pieces of an artist, who thought to 
live to immortality : the villager sees all his hopes rise in 
the smoke of his consuming cabin. In vain in his despair 
does he raise his innocent hands.to heaven. ‘The timid 
virgin is cruelly snatched from the arms of her mother by 
licentious soldiers ; fhe implores the afsistance of her lover 
but her lover isno more. He quitted her to seek glory 
in the fields of war. He has there fallen ; and in dying he 
