See! see, she wakes—Sabina wakes!
And now the sun begins to rise:
Less glorious is the morn, that breaks
From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.
With light united day they give;
But different fates ere night fulfil:
How many by his warmth will live!
How many will her coldness kill!
Are you melted? Don't you think him a divine man? If not touched by the brilliant Sabina, hear the devout Selinda:—
Pious Selinda goes to prayers,