Who bore a quiver, and a bow ;

And wings did to his moulders grow.

Within the hearth I bid him ftand, Then chafe and cherilh either hand 2 a Between my palms, and wring, with'- cere, The trickling water from his hair.

Now come, faid he, no longer chill* We'll bend this bow, and try our skill, 2 A. And prove the ftring, how far its pow'r Remains unflacken'd by the fliow'r.

He bends his bow, and culls his quiver, And pierces, like a Breez, my liver: 28 Then leaping, laughing, as he fled, Rejoice with me, my hqft, he faid: My bow is found in every part, And you (hall rue it at your heart.