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OF TEMPER.
119


And now, Serena, with suspended breath,
Listen'd, and caught the tale of Julia's death;
And quick she cries, ere tears had time to flow,
"Blest be this hour! for now I see Rousseau."
Fondly she gaz'd, till the enchanting sound
In such a potent spell her spirit bound,
That, lost in sweet illusion, she forgot
The promis'd scenes of the sublimer spot;
Till now her mild remembrancer, whose care
Stray'd not a moment from the mortal fair,
Rous'd her rapt mind, preparing her to meet
The brighter wonders of her blissful seat;
While her instinctive car's obedient frame
Now upward rose, like undulating flame.
As when some victor on the watery world,
Bright honour gilding all his sails unfurl'd,
Steers into port, while to the laughing sky
His streamers tell his triumph as they fly;
Expecting thousands line the crowded strand,
Swell the glad voice, or wave the joyous hand,