University of Virginia Library

AZÂKIA.

Then by the ruler of the skies,
By young Celario's heav'nly eyes,
By the soft love, those eyes express,
By all his vari'd pow'rs to bless,
His hopeless tear, impassion'd sigh,
And look of speechless sympathy,
Witness ye spirits of the dead,
That hover round this widow'd head,
The fatal bowl I will not drain,
'Till the young warrior comes again,
Or 'till to great Ouâbi's shade
The sad sepulchral rites are paid.