Europe was in destructive wars engag'd,
Th' Imperial Eagle and the Pontiff rag'd;
The sword vast desolation spread around,
And swains unheeded felt the fatal wound:
SELMO (such was IANTHE's father's name)
Felt his blood freeze through his enfeebled frame;
Prone to repine, with age fastidious grown,
He made the sorrows of mankind his own.
Seeking for peace, through various realms they sped,
Still hopes of bliss like airy visions fled;
IANTHE saw with grief her father's mind,
While shunning ills, to Nature's blessings blind:
Her youthful senses oft with pleasures glow,
She feels some good still mix'd with human woe.