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distress, she will soon return, her lovely cheeks glowing with heartfelt joy, and her brilliant eyes still bathed with the tears of pity. I wait for her return in this thicket of roses. As soon as she appears, I Ay to meet her ; and my wings, spreading round her the most sweet perfumes, will cool her burning cheeks; while I kiss the tears just starting from her eyes. This is my delightful task. . FIRST ZEPHYR. You transport me.

How sweet is your employ! I will, like thee, imbrue

my wings in the dew that bathes these flowers; like thee I will gather their perfumes; and, like thee, at the return of MELINDA, I will fly to meet her. But see, from yonder grove she comes, all beauteous as the morning of a glorious day. Virtue smiles upon her rosy lips. Her deportment is that of the

Come, let us spread our wings; never have I fanned more vermilion cheeks, nor a visage more enchanting

GRACES.

AA

AMYNTAS.

ز

LYCAS and I came from Miletum, bearing our offerings to APOLLO. We already perceived, at a distance, the hill on which the temple, adorned with columns of resplendent white, rose from the bosom of a laurel grove, toward the azure vault of heaven; beyond the grove, our view was lost in the sea's unbounded surface. It was mid-day. The sand burn'd the soles of our feet, and the sun darted its rays so directly on our heads, that the shadows of the locks of hair which covered our foreheads, extended over the whole face. The panting lizard dragged himself with pain through the fern that bordered the path. No sound was heard, save that of the grasshopper chirping amidst the meadows scorched grass. At each step there rose a cloud of fiery dust that burn'd our eyes, and stuck upon our parched lips. Thus we labour'd on, oppress'd by languor; but soon increas'd our pace, when we saw before us, even on the border of our path, some high and spreading trees. Their shade was dark as night. Seized with a religious awe, we entered the grove, and there inhaled a most refreshing breeze. This delicious place at once afforded all that could regale each sense. The tufted trees inclosed a verdant spot, watered by a pure and most refreshing stream.

The branches of the trees, bending with golden fruit, hung o'er the bason, and

the wild rose, jessamine, and mulberry, twined in rich clusters round their trunks. A bubbling spring rose from the foot of a monument, surrounded by honey suckles, the sickly willow, and the creeping ivy.- gods! I cried—how enchanting is this place! My soul venerates the bounteous hand that planted these delightful shades. His ashes here, perhaps, repose.See here, cries LYCAS-see those characters, that appear through the branches of the honeysuckle, on the front of the tomb. They, perhaps, will tell us who it was that thus vouchsaf'd the weary traveller to solace. He rais'd the branches with his staff, and read these words :

“ Here repose the ashes of AmyntAs—whose “ whole life was one continued scene of bounteous

acts : desirous to extend his goodness far beyond “ the grave, he hither led this stream, and planted “ these trees." Blessed be thy ashes, generous man! May thy posterity be for ever blessed! While I was speaking, we perceived at a distance, through the trees, some-one advancing towards us. It was a young and beauteous woman; her shape was elegant; in her deportment appeared a noble simplicity ; on her arm she bore an earthen vase.Advancing to the fountain, she addressed us in a courteous voice-You are strangers, she said, wearied, doubtless, with your tedious journey in the fervour of the day. Say; do you want any refreshment you have not here met with ? _We thank thee, I replied—we thank thee, amiable and beneficent woman.

What could we wish for more?

The waters of this stream are so pure, so delicious are these fruits, and these shadows so refreshing ! We are fillid with veneration of that worthy man whose ashes here repose; his bounty hath anticipated every want the traveller can know. You seem to be of this country, and, doubtless, knew him.Ah! tell us, while we repose beneath these cooling shades, tell us who was this virtuous man?

The woman then seating herself at the foot of the tomb, and leaning on the vase, which she placed by her side, with a gracious smile, replied

His name was AMYNTAS. To honour the gods, and do good to mankind, was his greatest felicity. There is not a shepherd in all this country, who does not revere his memory with the most tender gratitude; not one who does not, with tears of joy, relate some instance of his rectitude or beneficence. I owe to him myself all that I enjoy ; it was by him that I became the happiest of women-here her eyes were fill'd with tears-I am the wife of his son.—My father died, leaving my mother and myself in grief and poverty. Retiring to a solitary cottage, we there lived by the labour of our hands, and by the beneficence of virtue.-Two goats, that gave us milk, and the fruits of a small orchard, were all our wealth.—This calm did not long continue ; my mother died, and I was left alone without support or consolation. AMYNTAS then took me to his house, and committing to my care the conduct of his family, was more a father than a master to me. His son, the most handsome of all the shepherds of these hamlets, saw with what tender solicitude I sought to merit such a sweet asylum. He saw my faithful labours and assiduous cares.—He loved me, and he told me that he loved me. I would not confess to myself what my heart felt at that moment,--Damon, I said, forget thy love ; I was born in indigence, and am quite happy to be a servant in thy house. This, to him, I often earnestly repeated: but he would not forget his love.

One day, while I for use prepared our fleecy stores before the cottage door, AMYNTAS came, and sat down by me in the morning sun.

After looking a long time at me, with a gracious smile, he said My child, thy candour, cares, and modesty, delight

I love thee, and I will, if the gods should prove propitious, I will make thee happy.-Cou'd I, O my dear master! cou'd I be more happy, if I merited thy bounty! was all I could reply; while tears of gratitude flowed from my eyes.—My child, he said, I would honour the memory of thy parents; I would see, in my old age, my son and thee made happy. He loves thee—will his love—tell mewill his love make thee happy? The work fell from my hands; I trembled, blushed, and stood motionless before him. He took me by the hand My son's love, tell me, again he said, will his love make thee happy? I fell at his feet, and my voice died on my lips. I prest his hand against my cheeks, bedewed with tears; and from that fortunate day I have been the happiest of women. She

me.

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