The stranger weds, and blossoms, as before,
In all the fruitless fopperies of life: 580
Presents her weed, well-fancied, at the ball,
And raffles for the Death’s-head on the ring.
So wept Aurelia, till the destined youth
Stepp’d in, with his receipt for making smiles,
And blanching sables into bridal bloom.
So wept Lorenzo fair Clarissa’s fate;
Who gave that angel boy, on whom he doats;
And died to give him, orphan’d in his birth!