Most modest, and most generous soul,
She’d oft contributed to Bacchus’ bowl,—
Prolong’d his life in most abundant ease,
Until decrepitude besought release;
And still regarded him as one of those
Whom she, herself, could least afford to lose:
“But he is gone! and with his corpse a tear
Shall stray,” said she, “upon the sinking bier;
And when regenerated he shall rise,
Earth shall be first, for joy, to dim her eyes.”