And where tall corn and all seed-bearing grass
Rose from beneath her step, they wither now
Fading under the frown of her bent brows: [18]
The springs decrease;--the fields whose delicate green
Was late her chief delight, now please alone,
Because they, withered, seem to share her grief.

_Areth._ Unhappy Goddess! how I pity thee!

_Ino._ At night upon high Etna's topmost peak
She lights two flames, that shining through the isle
Leave dark no wood, or cave, or mountain path,
Their sunlike splendour makes the moon-beams dim,
And the bright stars are lost within their day.
She's in yon field,--she comes towards this plain,
Her loosened hair has fallen on her neck,
Uncircled by the coronal of grain:--
Her cheeks are wan,--her step is faint & slow.

_Enter Ceres._

_Cer._ I faint with weariness: a dreadful thirst
Possesses me! Must I give up the search?
Oh! never, dearest Proserpine, until
I once more clasp thee in my vacant arms!
Help me, dear Arethuse! fill some deep shell
With the clear waters of thine ice-cold spring,
And bring it me;--I faint with heat and thirst.

_Areth._ My words are better than my freshest waves[:]