loO poelvy. July 241 



Yes, alto's love, (though driv'u to LidLJ's fhore ' 



Shall burn for thee untill his life be o'er. 

 No other fair one, fliall my licart arrest, 

 Nor tear thy image from my constant breast. 

 Tear thee from me 1 thou, emprefs of my soul ! 

 Thou only object where my pafsions roll ; 

 Tear, rrora thy Clito, thy lov'd^beaming eyes j 

 Thy matchlefs beauty — thy eternal joys ! 

 Sooner the Alps and Pyrenees fhall stand 

 lincompafs'd in the hollow of my hand ; 

 Sooner fhall heav'n and hell in concord reign, 

 And raging flames emerge from out the main, 

 Than e'er one treach'rous thought of thee Ihall rest 

 Within the latent confines of my breast 1 



Oh '. wert thou Delia, poorest of the poor ! 

 Forc'd keen distrefs, andhardfliip to endure ; 

 Wert thou, my fair one, of the meanest train, 

 Still, would thy virtues, my affections gain ; 

 Still, I d prefer the lustre of thine eye, 

 To ail the wealth Golconda's minessupply I 

 Can sordid gold productive be of peace. 

 Yield solid comfort, or unsated blifs ? 

 Ah ; no, my fair I 'Tis mighty love alone. 

 Can make these joys that rival heav'n, our own ! 



Often I ramble to some lurid spot. 

 And, weeping, tell the winds my helplefs lot. 

 Carve thy delightful name on ev'ry tree. 

 And make responsive echo sing of thee ; 



Thrice happy those 1 who, in embow'ring fliadc^, 

 Sequester'd grotto-, and umbrageous glades. 

 Who, mid the windings of the forest dale, 

 Or, on the margin of th' enamell'd vale. 

 Can unreserv'd, the feelings of the heart, 

 And smiles exprtfsivc, mutually imi?art ; 

 Can safely, all their fervent pafsion tell. 

 And ev'ry anxious, latent thought reveal ; 

 How blest their lot ; whilst I, in sad despair. 

 Am exil'd far from " all my soul holds dear." 



But, cease my heart, be quell'd my poignant gtief ; • 

 Indulgent heav'n, will give me yet relief; 

 -Give, in the compafs of my circling arms. 

 My lovely jDc/m, and her blifsful charms '. 

 Then, fliall no father's hard, unfeeling heart. 

 Compel us, oh '. my Delia, more to part : 

 No pangs of absence, then, fliall intervene, 

 To ves'our constant, happy souls again ; 

 But once recliii'd upon e, ch raptur'd breast, 

 Be c-ver Licf^inL'', r.nd for ever L'est 1 ■ T. 



