To cheer the Prince, his aged friend
His pleasing converse loves to lend;
And, as his lips events relate,
AMANTOR asks ROSARA'S fate.
'Still doomed to love, and love in vain,
'No new-made captive wears her Chain.
'No word her deep-felt sorrow speaks,
'But Virtue's soothing balm she seeks;
'In spreading happiness around,
'She fain would fly her bosom's wound;
'That wound still pains the gentle breast,
'Through which all other hearts are blest.'

'Name her no more,' AMANTOR cries,
'Her charms too bright to memory rise;
'By all confessed a nymph divine,
'BUT FOR ONE FAULT she had been mine.'
As Phoebus yields to cheerless night,
A forest dark obscures their sight.
Through its dim paths the faithful pair
Their equal toils and dangers share.
Athwart the gloom a friendly beam
Now shoots- they hail the enlivening gleam.
Now broader streams the lucid ray,
And towards a Palace points the way.
Illumined were the sparkling halls,
And polished Mirrors formed the walls.
Soon as the wanderers reached the gate,
Gay courtiers, drest in robes of state,

With welcome smiles the pilgrims meet,
And thus, with friendly accents, greet:
'Ye, Strangers, hail! for rest prepare;
'Her hospitable kindness share,
'Who lives, but to bestow delight,
'The PRINCESS of the MIRRORS BRIGHT .'
High seated on a radiant throne,
In dazzling charms CLAIRETTA shone.
The Hall, with beaming Chrystals hung,
Reflects a Hebe, fair and young.
As rises gay the generous feast,
The lovely hostess either guest
With kind, attentive care receives;
'Till welcome rest each toil relieves.
Next morn the nymph AMANTOR sought,
Whose eyes awaked each tender thought.

Their gentle power his looks declare;
His willing homage pleased the fair.
Through each apartment, free to range,
Scarce does the dazzling prospect change.
In every scene their valves disclose,
The dome, with polished radiance glows.
Here she, in Convex Globes, may trace
The miniature of every grace.
There, Multiplying Chrystals give
Each charm ten thousand times to live.
While each surrounding glassy Lake
CLAIRETTA'S image loves to take.
Within, without, the Palace bright
With beaming lustre charms the sight.
'Beware the sweet coquette, beware,
'And shun her beauty's tempting snare:

'While vanity her bosom swells,
'Her breast no other passion feels.'
Thus spoke in vain the warning Sage;
CLAIRETTA'S smiles the youth engage.
The hall he sought where first was seen,
In beauty's state, his bosom's Queen.
His passion there he dares relate,
And, trembling, ask his coming fate.
'What spoke my Prince?' returns the fair,
With look confused, and absent air:
Enamoured, gazing on a glass,
His words she let unheeded pass.
Too late, AMANTOR mourns to find,
That vanity enslaves her mind.
In vain his tale of Love is told,
It cannot pierce a heart so cold;

Or, while the Mirrors are preferred,
May fall unheeded, and unheard.
Then spoke the Bard, 'No more delay!
'To realms remote, ah, point your way!-
'A secret project still detains
'My steps within these gay domains.
'Dread not to trust the dangerous main,
'In distant scenes we meet again.'