My heart oft wanders to my friends and parents, and could my wishes bring them to thy country, or bend their faith to thy most holy laws, my happiness would be too great for mortals. But now I cannot wish myself in Moab, lest softening luxury and their persuasion, should wean my heart from all those sacred duties I owe my God, and my best friend, Naomi. REBECCA. (_Aside._) Angelic woman! she far exceeds my son’s description of her. (_to the maids_) Take lessons from her, O ye maids of Judah! who so oft forget your duty to the Lord! his daily gifts remind you of his goodness.—I thought I heard a soft, melodious voice, warbling sweet music as I passed this way. It would much delight me would you sing again. SECOND REAPER. It was Ruth who sang to please your noble son, when tired with labor, he reposed awhile, and entertained himself with our discourse. REBECCA. I thought to have found him here when I came in. Say will you sing again to please a friend, warm in affection, though of sudden growth? RUTH. Alas! my voice so long attun’d to woe, but ill accords with harmony. But my poor talents are ever at command, when worth invites, or friendship sues. RUTH _sings_. Tho’ tender and young, my fortune is gone, My husband I’ve lost to increase my sad moan. A gleaner alas! to the fields I must go. To ask of the swains some relief from our woe. My story would soften the heart of a churl, O pity a hapless girl. 2nd. The blessings of plenty press your basket and store Then distribute those gifts to the stranger and poor; Your friends too smile round you, but I to my cost, Now reckon them o’er by the tears for their loss. My story &c. 3rd. Tho’ a wanderer from my country I roam, From the blessings of plenty, and the pleasures of home, Yet Naomi’s fond love would repay all my care, Could I chase from her mind the mists of despair. Her story &c. 4th. Then steel not your bosoms against my sad tale But think on my years; they will surely prevail— My tears kindly dry, and O may you ne’er know, The horrors of want, or the heart ache of woe. Our sorrows &c. REBECCA. A thousand thanks my charming friend. I will no longer keep thee from thy labor. (_Scene draws_) [Illustration: PL. XVIII.—MARIA TALLMADGE Daughter of Colonel Tallmadge, and wife of John P. Cushman, of Troy, Pupil, 1802 ] NAOMI _alone_.