Some time in heavy sighs did vent her grief.
The nymphs assembling us’d their utmost art,
The sad Lucina’s sorrows to beguile:
Vain was th’ attempt to ease her bleeding heart,
Or from her eye extort a cheerful smile.
At latest hour, when each auspicious light
Seem’d hid in chaos—Cynthia’s silver beam
Withdrew its lustre on that fatal night,
Nor bless’d the shade, nor wanton’d in the stream.
Her auburne locks the mournful maiden tore,