5 o THE ENGLISH GARDEN. 



" A life furcharg'd with tender woes like thine, 535 



" The road to Joys eternal. Maid, farewell ! 



" I leave the cafket that thy virtues held 



" To Him whofe breaft fuflains it ; more belov'd, , 



*< Perhaps more worthy, yet not loving more 



*' Than did thy wretched CLEON." At the word 540 



He bath'd in tears the hand me dying gave, 



Return'd it to her fide, and hafly rofe. 



ALCANDER, flatting from his trance of grief, 



Cry'd " flay, I charge thee flay/' " and mail he flay," 



CLEON reply'd, " whofe prefence flabb'd thy peace ? 545 



" Hear this before we part : That breathlefs Maid 



" Was daughter to a venerable Sage, 



" Whom Boflon, when with peace and fafety blefl^ 



" In rapture heard pour from his hallow'd tongue 



" Religion's pureft dictates. 'Twas my chance, $$Q 



" In early period of our civil broils, 



" To fave his precious life : And hence the Sire 



" Did to my love his Daughter's charms confign j 



** But, till the war fhould ceafe, if ever ceafe, 



-" Deferr'd 



