Defcribing the forrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy event of a licentious amour. WHY mourns my friend! why weeps his downcaft eye? That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to fhine? Thy chearful meads reprove that fwelling figh; Art thou not lodg'd in fortune's warm embrace? That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair? DAMON, faid he, thy partial praise restrain ; Not DAMON's friendship can my peace restore; Alas! his very praise awakes my pain, And my poor wounded bofom bleeds the more. For oh! that nature on my birth had frown'd! But led by fortune's hand, her darling child, VOL. I. H Of Of folly ftudious, ev❜n of vices vain, Poor artless maid! to ftain thy fpotless name, School'd in the fcience of love's mazy wiles, I cloath'd each feature with affected scorn; I fpoke of jealous doubts, and fickle fmiles, And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn. Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care, To thee, my DAMON, dare I paint the reft? Nine envious moons matur'd her growing fhame; Ere while to flaunt it in the face of day; When fcorn'd of virtue, ftigmatiz'd by fame, Low at my feet defponding JESSY lay. " HENRY, " HENRY, fhe faid, by thy dear form fubdu'd, I figh in fhades, and ficken at the fun. Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry, When will the morn's once pleafing scenes return? Yet what can morn's returning ray fupply, But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn! Alas! no more that joyous morn appears The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, If thro' the garden's flow'ry tribes I stray, Ye flow'rs! that well reproach a nymph so frail, Now the grave old alarm the gentler young; And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee; Trembles each lip, and faulters every tongue, That bids the morn propitious smile on me. Thus for your fake I fhun each human eye; Left my fad fate fhou'd nourish pangs for you. Raife me from earth; the pains of want remove, Be but my friend; I afk no dearer name; Force not my tongue to afk its scanty bread; Haply, when age has filver'd o'er my hair, And pity, welcome, to my native foil." She She fpoke-nor was I born of favage race; And vow'd to wafte her life in pray'rs for mine. I faw her foot the lofty bark afcend; I saw her breaft with every paffion heave; I left her-torn from every earthly friend; Oh! my hard bofom, which could bear to leave! Brief let me be; the fatal storm arose; And-fee my youth's impetuous fires decay; |