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Page 68:-
He cut the chrystal deep, and plunging down,
Seiz'd, and brought her up again to life.
Restored now, she op'd her radiant eyes,
And looking gratitude ineffable,
"Is it then you, Damaetas? you, whom long
"My virgin-heart hath own'd!" She could no more:
The rosy hue again forsook her cheek,
The light her eyes, and pallid Death a while
Seem'd to return and re-demand his prey.
What then, Damaetas, were the dire alarms
That rent thy manly bosom? Love, despair,
Grief, and astonishment, exert at once
The utmost of their force, to tear thy soul!
But, see, the rose again resumes its seat
Upon her cheek! again her op'ning eye
Beams soften'd lustre! Kneeling by her side,
Damaetas press'd her hand: in fault'ring words
Propos'd his am'rous suit. Her parents near,
Relieved now from heart-corroding fear
First pour'd in tender words their grateful hearts,
Then to Damaetas gave the willing hand
Of their belov'd Amelia. Instant joy
Flush'd lively in his cheek, and fir'd his heart
With all the rapt'rous bliss of mutual love.
He tried in vain to speak, for words, alas!
Could ill express tumultuous joys like his;
He stammer'd, blush'd, and thanked them in thought.
And now the fiery Charioteer of day
Drove down the western steep his blazing car,
When homeward all return to close their sports,
And usher in with dance the fable night.
The sprightly music sounds, the youths advance,
And blooming virgins form the beauteous group:
Then join'd in couples, active as the light
They tread the mazy dance; the swains the while
Join in sweet toil, and press the given hand,
And slily talk of love; or else, askance,
Speak by their looks the feelings of the heart.
Now glitt'ring in his tinsell'd robes, the fop
Displays his elegance, and smirks and lisps,
And skips and flutters, like his kindred flies.
Nor be the rustic sons of Mirth forgot;
They to the squeaking of an ill-tun'd fiddle
Labour in merriment, with each his lass,
Till Morn unbars again her golden gates;
And wakes the world to hail the springing day.
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