bows him to the God, for whose dread ire
Fall'n on us loved but sinning, we deplore
This long but just captivity. Thy sire

"Receives him well and harkens his request
For know, he comes to ask thee-for a bride
And to be one among a people, blest
Tho' deep in suffering. Nor to him denied

"Art thou, sad daughter--weep--if't be thy will--
E'vn on the breast that nourished thee and ne'er
Distrest thee or compelled; this bosom still
Ev'n should'st though blight its dearest hopes, will share

"Nay, bear thy pains; but sooner in the grave
'Twill quench my waning years, if reckless thou
Of what I not command, but only crave,
Let my heart pine regardless of thy vow."

XXV.

She thus, 'O think not, kindest, I forget,
Receiving so much love, how much is due
From me to thee: the Mede I'll wed--but yet
I cannot stay these tears that gush to pain thy view.'

XXVI.

Sephora held her to heart, the while
Grief had its way--then saw her gently laid
And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile
Slumbering the fervid noon. Her leafy bed

Sighed forth o'erpowering breath; increased the heat;
Sleepless had been the night; her weary sense
Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat,
Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense,

She sank. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe
Swell 'til it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast;
Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow,
And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap to rest.

XXVII.

Now all the mortal maid lies indolent
Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf
Had touched too rude, tho' all the blooms besprent,
One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf

That foams against the sea-rock, looked her neck,
By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved,
That close inclining o'er her seemed to reck
What 'twas they canopied; and quickly heaved

Beneath her robe's white folds and azure zone,
Her heart yet incomposed; a fillet thro'
Peeped brightly azure, while with tender moan
As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew

Sportive;--about her neck their gold he twined,
Kissed the soft violet on her temples warm,
And eye brow--just so dark might well define
Its flexile arch;--throne of expression's charm.

XXVIII.

As the vexed Caspian, tho' its rage be past
And the blue smiling heavens swell o'er in peace,
Shook to the centre, by the recent blast,
Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease.

So still each little pulse was seen to throb