POETRT. 



For the Bee. 



THE LOVE-SICK MAID, BY THE JIEVD. I. T. 



jiir Gramachrce, 



I. 



I'll pUce rpe in the coelest bovv'r, 



Law in the winding vale, 

 And there I'll spend my ev'ning hour, 



And pensive tell my tale j 

 The sober time and sadj'ning 'plaint, 



With my heart well agree ; 

 For I love grief withovit restraint; 

 How sweet is grief to me ! 

 li. 

 Jor Strephon, Ah ! the artlefs youth. 



In simplest mode array'd, 

 J\. stranger more to love than truth, 



As honest mirth betray'd, 

 Told me such tales of innocence, 

 Which cft-times I'd approve, 

 And every time he'd re-commence, 

 I wifh'd he'd talk of lore ! 

 III. 

 I sought the image in hii eye, ■ 

 Of Strephon's heart the care. 

 And as he smiPd, then I wo«'d sigh, 



'Cause nought of love w.s there ; 



Then, of his pow'r unconscious, he 



Wou'd blufh, — and if he sigh'd, 



Twas but a ihuughtlefs sympathy, 



When I a smile deny'd. 



IV. 



A'h ! haplefs maid, — O happy youth, 



Who my first love hast won. 

 Which ever sacred is to truth. 



By which my heart's undone^ 

 Propitjous fate! — true virtue's friend. 



To truth O ever near, 

 .Regard me, haplefs maid1 and lend 



To my diijtrefs an ear. 



V. 



CI .11 hlait go blow in yonder Vile, 



The lily d-'Oopl.-^g dies, 

 And furnilTies a pite3us tjle, 



Wiien Stteph^n hjme ward hies ; 

 The balmy hrctx,c breathe round our cotet. 



And ^uick'ning influence bring, 

 -And thus my swain may learn the lo:s, 



from did 'rent fates which -priiij 

 V91., viii, » 



