And all the horrors of the scene effac’d.
Array’d in heav’nly smiles she onward came;
Vain phantoms her superior pow’r confest:
She view’d the sad, dejected, mournful dame,
And thus in soothing accents her address’d.
“Do not Belinda at thy fate repine,
Nor by thy tears augment the pond’rous load;
The lovely youth must be no longer thine:
He’s gone, such is the sov’reign will of God.
He’s gone to flourish in a fairer soil,