"Yet stay till fate has fix'd my early doom,
"And strow with leaves a hapless damsel's tomb.
"Some grot or grassy bank, shall be my bier,
"My maiden herse unwater'd with a tear."
Thus while she mourns, o'erwhem'd in deep despair,
She rends her silken robes, and golden hair:
Her fatal ring, the cause of all her woes,
On a hard rock with maddening rage she throws;
The gem, rebounding from the stone, displays
Its verdant hue, and sheds refreshing rays :
Sudden descends the genius of the ring,
And drops celestial fragrance from his wing;
Then speaks, "Who calls me from the realms of day?
"Ask, and I grant; command, and I obey,"
She drank his melting words with ravish'd ears,
And stopp'd the gushing current of her tears;
Then kiss'd his skirts, that like a ruby glow'd,
And said, "O bear me to my sire's abode."
Straight o'er her eyes a shady veil arose,
And all her soul was lull'd in still repose.
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