Awoke at early dawn; she deem'd it wrong,
For young and modest virgins to prolong

Their revels through the night; next day to dread
The faded cheek, tir'd limbs, and aching head.
The ring and mirror form her only joy,
And every care, and every wish employ:

Such bright transporting hopes these presents yield,
She views each wonder in her dreams reveal'd;
Her colour comes and goes, her pulse beats high,
So much she burns their magic power to try.
Soon as the sun illum'd the eastern skies,
Gay as the lark, she hasten'd to arise,

And call'd her sleepy nurse; whose heavy head
Inclin'd to doze another hour in bed-

"Why wish thus early, madam, to be drest?"
She cries, "while yet the slumb'ring world's at rest."
"I can no longer sleep," reply'd the fair,

"And fain would breathe the fragrant morning air." The nurse now wak'd her train; the damsels all Arise at once, obedient to her call:

Their beauteous mistress they in haste array,
More fresh and fragrant than the new-born day:
And forth she came, with light though stately pace,
Bright as the sun, who now began his race:
The duteous train her devious steps attend,
And through the dewy park their way they bend.
The rolling mist that o'er the meadow spread,
Veil'd the broad sun in deeply blushing red:
Yet the fresh morning air, the blooming scene,
The dew-drops sparkling o'er each tender green,
The chorus of wild birds that round them sing,
And gayly chaunt the praises of the spring,
Excite a secret joy in every heart;
Yet most in Canace's, whom magic art

Had taught at once their language to explain,
And know the meaning of each warbled strain.
But when we spin the tedious story's thread,
Till Curiosity itself be dead,

We lose our pains; so briefly I shall tell,
What in the sequel of their walk befel.

As Canace, engag'd in careless play,

Now cull'd fresh flowers, and now pursu'd her way,
She saw, upon a lone and blasted tree,
Whose " top was bald with dry antiquity,"
A falcon perch'd; her shrill and mournful cry
Made the deep woods and distant groves reply,
And oft' with furious beak her breast she tore,
And with her wings assail'd, till spouting gore
Ran from the wither'd branch on which she stood,
And underneath, the ground was dy'd with blood:
So moving her complaint; the hardest heart
Might learn, in grief like hers, to bear a part:
E'en the fell savage might her woes deplore,
And eyes might weep, which never wept before.
No falconer e'er view'd a bird so fair,
Her form, and plumage, far beyond compare;
She seem'd a falcon of the gentlest sort,

From foreign hands procur'd to train for sport:
And now she grew so faint from loss of blood,
She scarce could hold the bough on which she stood.
Fair Cauace, who on her finger wore

The magic ring, and heard the hawk deplore

Her mournful fate, and view'd her hapless plight,
Had almost swoon'd with terror at the sight;

And drawing near the tree with fearful haste,
On the sad bird a look of pity cast,

And held her lap, with anxious care below,
Lest she should tumble headlong from the bough:

Thus Canace awhile expecting stood,

And gaz'd upon the hawk besmear'd with blood. At length the beauteous maid the silence broke, And thus in pity's tenderest accents spoke. "If your sad tale may reach a stranger's ear, "Repose the burden of your sorrows here: "Ah! sure that breaking heart has known to prove "The death of friendship, or the loss of love; "For these alone deny the mind relief, "And call despair to end the scene of grief; "No other cause your bosom could inspire "Against yourself to wreak your cruel ire; "For the dear love of heav'n, your rage restrain, Accept my help, nor let me plead in vain.

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'Mong birds, or beasts, I never view'd before "A sight so dreadful; madly wound no more "That mangled body;-from the tree descend, "And meet in me a kind and pow'rful friend. "As I'm the daughter of a king, I swear, "If you'll the story of your woes declare, "Those sorrows to assuage, by every aid, "And heal the wounds your frantic rage has made!" She ceas'd-the falcon made her no reply, But beat her sides, and gave a piercing cry, And fainting, fell to earth; all sense was fled, And the surrounding damsels thought her dead. But Canace the fainting bird sustain'd Within her arms, 'till hovering life regain'd It's wonted seat; at length, in accents weak, And language, such as hawks are us'd to speak, The falcon thus her mournful tale began.

Compassion's gentle tide, in bird or man, "Alone can issue from a gen'rous heart,

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My Canace!-to feel another's smart,

"To sooth despair, to aid distress like mine,
"Demands a bosom, soft and pure as thine.
"When nature form'd you beauteous, she design'd
"So fair a mansion for as fair a mind.

"Tho' all my hopes of peace on earth are o'er,
"And Fancy paints her fairy scenes no more
"Of bright returning joy; if my sad tale
"May yield instruction, and can aught avail
"In warning others those deceits to shun
"By which my unsuspecting youth was won,
"To tempt my fate to love, and be undone,
"I shall, while time permits, at large disclose
"The mournful origin of all my woes.

Upon a lonely summit's craggy breast

}

My careful parents built their spacious nest; "And there (in hapless hour) with joy they view'd, "Burst from the pregnant shell their infant brood; "So tenderly they nurs'd, so fondly bred, "Our youthful days in every pleasure fled: "Ah! then unus'd amid the world to roam, "I deem'd each scene as happy as my home! "On the same rock a falcon chanc'd to dwell, "Who seem'd in every virtue to excel; "Beauteous and gentle, but too oft we find "A flatt'ring form conceals a sordid mind: "So he, beneath the mask of modest youth, "Of prompt good-nature, and unerring truth, "O'erveil'd the deepest guilt; the human heart "Was never vers'd in more consummate art. "Thus the fell serpent lurks in flow'rs conceal'd, "Till by his deadly bite too late reveal'd. "The hypocrite so well his passion feign'd, "And practis'd every rite by love ordain'd;

"By such obedience, such devotion strove "To gain my approbation of his love;

"None, but the sire of falshood could have known "To penetrate disguise, so like his own:

"Thus o'er the tomb do sculptur'd marbles shine, "While all is dark, corrupt, and foul within. "When many a year his tender suit he'd feign'd, "And of disdain and cruelty complain'd, "Too simple to suspect the tear and sigh, "I thought in earnest that his death was nigh; "And sway'd by pity, listen'd to his tale, "And let at length his flattering vows prevail; "Yet first demanded, he'd preserve unstain'd "My fame, and honour, and while life remain'd "Swear that he'd never from his faith depart, "But render love for love, and heart for heart. "Alas! how slightly does a promise bind

Through long revolving time the firmest mind. "When he perceiv'd his am'rous suit had gain'd "A fond return, no falcon ever feign'd

"More fervent passion; vers'd in deep deceit,
"He breath'd a thousand raptures at my feet;
"Such tender love, and endless truth he swore,
"None e'er dissembled with such art before.
"Not Trojan Paris; nor the prince of Greece,
"Who wander'd far to gain the golden fleece;
"Nor any since old Lamech, who began
"To match two women to a single man.
"So noble his address, such easy grace
"In ev'ry look and action you might trace:
"His ready wit, his captivating smile,

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Might well the wisest of our sex beguile : "So much did all his arts my bosom move, "I only study'd to return his love: