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If then that momentary loss was pain,

of absence how shall I abide? Ah! who will bring her to my wish again,

Whom adverse fate, and distant lands divide? Where are those joys, those lender joys I felt,

When from the dancé retir'd we sat apart? On her alone my eyes all fondness dwelt;

How have their rebel looks betray'd my heart ! Grace, harmony, and sense distinct and clear,

With mildness in her modest language meet: Attention hangs upon my ravish'd ear;

And what her eyes began, her words compleat. Away, thou silken son of foppish pride!

This is no ear for such discourse as thine : Go, let thy vows and hackney'd arts be try'd

In vain devotion at yon painted shrine. Nor think that Love, true Love, could e'er impart,

False as your idol's bloom, such mimic joys: Affected mirth that springs not from the heart;

Jests without wit, and flattery that cloys. By thee, my Fair-one, let me sit and sigh;

And mark the graces that around thee move; Catch the dear pain that glances from thine eye ;

And yield my soul to softness and to love.
Ah no, in pity snatch thy hand from mine,

And hide those fatal beautics of thy cheek;
Nor let thine eyes so soft a look incline,

fond heart with tenderness shou'd break. Thy charms, my Love, o'ercome me with delight,

Thy voice, thy look, thy smile--alas I dream! Ye well-known domes, that rise upon my sight,

Once dear.indeed! how hateful now ye seem!

Ah mock me not, my friends, with loathed joy;

My sickening soul such greetings cannot bear : Nor this the form that fill’d my greedy eye;

Nor that the voice which charm’d my listening ear. Where is that look? Oh, where that lovely smile ?

Torn from those blessings, from her presence torn, In sighs, in tears I waste the absent while,

Sad as the sick man's night, impatient for the morn.


DESPAIR. WRITTEN IN 1762. Severe, O Love, thy tyrant power I feel,

My heart, my life, my freedom all are thine; Lo, at thy awful throne submiss I kneel,

Stern as thou art, thy milder ear incline, If e'er my stubborn will thy power repellid,

If e'er with thee in impious contest strove, If e'er my tongue thy mysteries reveald,

A shameless recreant to myself and Love ; If e'er my heart its plighted promise broke,

If aught but Love did e'er possess my mind ; Then bow I calmly to the lifted stroke;

Then to thy rage vindictjve yield resign’d. But if true votary to thy sovereign power

My infant hands thy laughing altars dress'd, If from


birth to this afflictive hour, Thy hopes, thy joys, have Autter'd in my breast; If Love, and Love alone, hath revell'd there,

Beneath the veil of secrecy and truth, free me, free me from this sad despair, That blasts with chilling hand my bloom of youth.

But ah, no power of thine can reach her heart,

Proof to that passion which her beauty gave; Snatch then, O snatch from Death the friendly dart,

And hide my sorrows in the silent



Four days are pass’d, four tedious days of pain,
Since these sad



Love depart, Four days are yet to come, e'er I again

Shall see the beauteous sovereign of heart. While fond impatience in my bosom burns, And the slow hours insult


restless haşte, Ah who can teach me, till my Love returns, In

easy indolence the time to waste? Vain search! no ease will selfish Love allow;

No power hath art to lull my cares asleep: Pleasure, and mirth, and smiles are irksome now;

And my sole comfort is to sigh and weep. On swifter wings I bade the moments fly;

But they perverse have doubled their delay; For grief hath banish'd slumber from my eye,

And night partakes the sorrows of the day. Nor think, my friends, that causeless is my pain,

The hours you count not by a Lover's mind; Four tedious days of absence I sustain,

And justly dread the heavier half behind. While distant strays my Love, the poison’d dart

Of jealousy hạth struck me with despair: And doubts arise where reason has no part,

Surmises vain, and self-created care.

By glittering fops, and courtly speech beset,

Can a frail woman's faith unshaken prove? And will she not a wretch like me forget,

Who only plead fidelity and love? Ah no!—and now'what extacy I feel !

False are my doubts, and vain my scrupulous fear I know the hand, I know the faithful seal,

This Letter proves my Laura's love sincere. Yes, Fair-one, yes, thy love, thy truth I see ;

fond breast I'll press each tender line : Kiss the dear words that bid me think on thee;

And bless the period that concludes thee mine. On thee I'll think, till four long days shall give

In thy lov'd presence more substantial bliss ; Then shall my arms their real wish receive,

And my lips glow beneath a warmer kiss,

To my


PARTING, WRITTEN IN 1766, I go, my Love; and till we meet again,

Let Hope and Constancy the time beguile: Again to meet! that prospect shall restrain

The tear that starts through my dissembled smile. Farewell! but there is finish'd all my boast

That tender accent falters on my tongue ;
And I must weep for that dear object lost,

On which I gaz'd so fondly and so long.
O stop! O turn-, for I have much to say-

One word! one look! I cannot leave thee co
-Ah me, she takes a distant, different way;
And I unheard, unanswer'd vent my woe.

From her soft yoice no more I catch the sound;

No more her beauties grace my happy side: I call, I search in vain, no more is found

My sweet companion, and my promis'd bride.
Back to those happier scenes, Remembrance, fly!

Thy lenient aid my sorrows shall remove :
For thou from those dear moments canst supply

Full many a proof propitious to my love.
Much tho' I lovd, I found that love repaid ;

And seem' of all men happy o'er the rest; Consenting Beauty heal'd the wound it made;

And Love enslav'd me but to make me blest. My lips the story of my hosom told,

Check'd by no scornful, no unkind reply;
Her favouring glances bade my tongue be bold,

And mutual passion kindled in her eye:
The blush soft spreading o'er her downcast face,

The sudden sigh half-rising, half-suppress’d,
That coy distress which heightens every grace,

In silent eloquence her love confess'd.
How sweet to snatch her not-unwilling hand,

And all delighted on her charms to gaze;
While mix'd with many a kiss we fondly plann'd

The tender conduct of connubial days! Each social Virtue decks her gentle mind;

And stedfast Honour waves his banners there; So chaste a temple Love was proud to find;

And Truth proclaims her parting vow sincere. While sweet Remembrance thus relieves my heart,

Ah why should grief so fair a prospect sour! Yes, we shall meet, ani meet no more to part,

And Heaven and Love shall bless th' expected hour,

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