JPOETRT. 



Delia to Clito. 



In anszuer to the espistte in our last. 

 If, to Tt. starving son ofnvant, a feast 

 Can comfort yield, and constitute him blest : 

 If, to a ivretch condetmi A, a kind reprieve 

 Can joy bestow, and his sad soul relieve : 

 Not lefs delight, c}id thy dear lines impart, 

 My Clito, to my longing anxious heart \ 



Oh ; had I been some rustic of the plain, 

 And, Clito thou, some humble village swain. 

 Then, would no angry father's harfh decree, 

 Have forc'd thee from thy country — friends and me ! 

 Pleas'd, our fond tales of love we would have told. 

 As we, together, sped our flocks to fold, 

 Near some transparent stream, whose windings lead 

 In sweet meanders o'er the fragrant mead. 

 We would have sat, and, mutually exprest 

 The soft sensations of each honest breast. 



Frequent, I tread the solitary gloom, 

 Where, oft together, we were wont to roam: 

 Sometimes, I hie me to the jefs'mine grove, 

 Dear, happy spot, where Clito told his love \ 

 Where, first, he all his fervent flame disclo^'d, 

 And, every secret of his soul expos'd : 

 Where, bath'd in melting tears that copious flow'd, 

 Eternal truth, and constancy he vow'd I 

 Whilst, to my mem'ry, fond reflection bringfs 

 Past tender moments, and pathetic things 1 

 But ah! those joys are fled I — those scenes are o'er. 

 Nor I, perchance, Ihall realize them more I 



Ah 1 what are all the charms of pomp and fliow ? 

 To me they're joylefs, and insipid too. 

 The world, can boast no solid blifs for me ; 

 I'd give its fleeting pleasures, all for thee ■' 

 For thee, I'd bear the cold — bleak, northern blast, 

 Or raging sun, that browns the eastern waste: 

 T' enjoy thy love, I'd scale' whole hills of snow, 

 Tho' death and dangers threaten as I go I 

 Brave desert wilds, encounter rapid floods, 

 Explore unheard of climes, and savage woods ' 

 Spurn, at the glories of a monarch's throne, 

 To make my faithful Clito all my own \ ^ 



