SCENE IV.
Ægle
alone.
Unhappy princess! how my bosom feels
For all her pains! A simple shepherdess,
Poor and unknown, to thee is cause of envy!
Ah: what are Fortune's gifts? And what avails
To toil for these, if when Heaven frowns upon us,
These gifts so ill defend the fond possessors?
Though Indian seas rich gems disclose,
Not gentler there the current flows,
Nor more serene the skies.
The land that least will fear the power
Of ocean's tide, where tempests roar,
Is some lone bay, whose quiet shore
The distant wind defies.
[Exit.
