| |
| LOST in despair, distracted and forlorn, | |
| The lover I, and tender husband mourn. | |
| Whate’er to such superior worth was due, | |
| Whate’er excess the fondest passion knew, | |
| I felt for thee, dear youth; my joys, my care, | 5 |
| My prayers themselves were thine, and only where | |
| Thou wast concern’d, my virtue was sincere. | |
| Whene’er I begg’d for blessings on thy head, | |
| Nothing was cold or formal that I said. | |
| My warmest vows to Heav’n were made for thee, | 10 |
| And love still mingled with my piety. | |
| O! thou wast all my glory, all my pride; | |
| Thro’ life’s uncertain paths my constant guide. | |
| Regardless of the world, to gain thy praise | |
| Was all that could my just ambition raise. . . . . . . . | 15 |
| List’ning to him, my cares were charm’d to rest, | |
| And love and silent rapture fill’d my breast, | |
| Unheeded, the gay moments took their flight, | |
| And time was only measur’d by delight. | |
| I hear the lov’d, the melting accent still, | 20 |
| And still the warm, the tender transport feel: | |
| Again I see the sprightly passions rise, | |
| And life and pleasure kindle in his eyes. | |
| My fancy paints him now with ev’ry grace, | |
| But ah! the dear resemblance mocks my fond embrace, | 25 |
| The flatt’ring vision takes its hasty flight, | |
| And scenes of horror swim before my sight; | |
| Grief and despair in all their terrors rise; | |
| A dying lover pale and gasping lies. | |
| Each dismal circumstance appears in view, | 30 |
| The fatal object is for ever new, . . . . . . . | |
| Why did they tear me from thy breathless clay? | |
| I should have stay’d and wept my life away. | |
| Yet, gentle shade! whether thou now dost rove, | |
| Thro’ some blest vale, or ever-verdant grove, | 35 |
| One moment listen to my grief, and take | |
| The softest vows that ever love can make. | |
| For thee, all thoughts of pleasure I forgo, | |
| For thee my tears shall never cease to flow; | |
| For thee at once I from the world retire, | 40 |
| To feed in silent shades a hopeless fire. | |
| My bosom all thy image shall retain, | |
| The full impression there shall still remain: | |
| As thou hast taught my kinder heart to prove | |
| The noblest height, and elegance of love; | 45 |
| That sacred passion I to thee confine, | |
| My spotless faith shall be for ever thine. | |
| |
