A child like her.

Arcas. Ha!—say what mystery

Wakes these emotions?

Phil. Wonder-working virtue!

The father foster'd at his daughter's breast!

O! filial piety!—The milk design'd

For her own offspring, on the parent's lip

Allays the parching fever.

Arcas. That device

Has she then form'd, eluding all our care,

To minister relief?

Phil. On the bare earth

Evander lies; and as his languid pow'rs

Imbibe with eager thirst the kind refreshment,

And his looks speak unutterable thanks,

Euphrasia views him with the tend'rest glance,

Ev'n as a mother doating on her child;

And, ever and anon, amidst the smiles

Of pure delight, of exquisite sensation,[Pg 26]

[Pg 26]

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