DISSOLVED in tears, and quite o'ercome with care; She scarcely noticed that a man was there. The corpse, howe'er, too plainly told her pain, And fully seemed the myst'ry to explain. We've sworn, exclaimed the slave, what's 'yond belief, That here we'll die of famine and of grief. THOUGH eloquence was not the soldier's art, He both convinced 'twas wrong with life to part: The dame was great attention led to pay, To what the son of Mars inclined to say, Which seemed to soften her severe distress: With time each poignant smart is rendered less. IF, said the soldier, you have made a vow, That you, some food to take will not allow; Yet, looking on while I my supper eat, Will not prolong your lives, nor oaths defeat. HIS open manner much was formed to please; The lady and her maid grew more at ease, Which made the gen'rous sentinel conclude, To bring his meat they would not fancy rude. THIS done, the slave no longer was inclined To follow Death, as soon she changed her mind. Said she, good madam, pleasing thoughts I've got; Don't you believe that, if you live or not, 'Tis to your husband ev'ry whit the same? Had you gone first, would he have had the name Of following to the grave as you design? No, no, he'd to another course incline. Long years of comfort we may clearly crave; At twenty years it's surely wrong to brave Both death and famine in a gloomy tomb There's time enough to think of such a doom. At best, too soon we die; do let us wait; Here's nothing now at least to haste our fate. In truth, I wish to see a good old age: To bury charms like your's, would that be sage? Of what advantage, I should wish to know, To carry beauty to the shades below? Those heavenly features make my bosom sigh, To think from earthly praise they mean to fly. THIS flatt'ry roused the beauteous widowed fair; The god of soft persuasion soon was there, And from his quiver in a moment drew Two arrows keen, which from his bow-string flew; With one he pierced the soldier to the heart, The lady slightly felt the other dart. Her youth and beauty, spite of tears, appeared, And men of taste such charms had long revered; A mind of tender feeling might, through life. Have loved her--even though she were a wife. THE sentinel was smitten with her charms; Grief, pity, sighs, belong to Cupid's arms; When bosoms heave and eyes are drowned in tears, Then beauty oft with conq'ring grace appears.