Who would not be an Artemisia, and raise the stately mausoleum to her lord; then weep and watch incessant over it like the Ephesian matron!
I have heard of one lady, who had not quite so great a veneration for her husband's tomb, but preferred lying alone in one, to lying on his left hand; perhaps she had an aversion to the German custom of left-handed wives. I met yesterday with a pretty little dialogue on the subject of constancy tis between a traveller and a dove
LE PASSANT.
Que fais tu dans ce bois, plaintive Tourturelle?
LA ToURTURELLE.
Je g`emis, j'ai perdu ma compagne fidelle.
LE PASSANT.
Ne crains tu pas que l'oiseleur
Ne te fasse mourir comme elle?
La Tourturelle.
Si ce n'est lui, ce sera ma douleur.
'Twould have been a little more apposite, if she had grieved for her lover. I have ventured to turn it into that view, lengthened it, and spoiled it, as you shall see.
P.-Plaintive turtle, cease your moan;
Hence away;
In this dreary wood alone
Why d'ye stay?
T.-These tears, alas! you see flow
For my mate!
P.-Dread you not from net or bow
His sad fate?
T.-If, ah! if they neither kill,
Sorrow will.