—­Near and more near the intrepid Beauty press’d,
        Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest,
        Heard the exulting shout, “they run! they run!”
        “Great GOD!” she cried, “He’s safe! the battle’s won!”
285 —­A ball now hisses through the airy tides,
        (Some Fury wing’d it, and some Demon guides!)
        Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck,
        Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck;
        The red stream, issuing from her azure veins,
290 Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.—­
        —­“Ah me!” she cried, and, sinking on the ground,
        Kiss’d her dear babes, regardless of the wound;
        “Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou Vital Urn! 
        “Wait, gushing Life, oh, wait my Love’s return!—­
295 “Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far! 
        “The angel, Pity, shuns the walks of war!——­
        “Oh, spare ye War-hounds, spare their tender age!—­
        “On me, on me,” she cried, “exhaust your rage!”—­
        Then with weak arms her weeping babes caress’d,
300 And sighing bid them in her blood-stain’d vest. 
        From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies,
        Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes;
        Eliza’s name along the camp he calls,
        Eliza echoes through the canvas walls;
305 Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps tread,
        O’er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,
        Vault o’er the plain, and in the tangled wood,
        Lo! dead Eliza weltering in her blood!—­
        —­Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds,
310 With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds:—­
        “Speak low,” he cries, and gives his little hand,
        “Eliza sleeps upon the dew-cold sand;
        “Poor weeping Babe with bloody fingers press’d,
        “And tried with pouting lips her milkless breast;
315 “Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake—­
        “Why do you weep?—­Mama will soon awake.” 
        —­“She’ll wake no more!” the hopeless mourner cried
        Upturn’d his eyes, and clasp’d his hands, and sigh’d;
        Stretch’d on the ground awhile entranc’d he lay,
320 And press’d warm kisses on the lifeless clay;
        And then unsprung with wild convulsive start,
        And all the Father kindled in his heart;
        “Oh, Heavens!” he cried, “my first rash vow forgive! 
        “These bind to earth, for these I pray to live!”—­
325 Round his chill babes he wrapp’d his crimson vest,
        And clasp’d them sobbing to his aching breast.

        Two Harlot-Nymphs, the fair CUSCUTAS, please
        With labour’d negligence, and studied ease;