RABAS.
Remember the moments of pleasure when past,
For they keep still a trace of their lovliness, Lady,
Let the memory too of these flat gardens last,
With their trees cut so straight, and their straight walks so shady.
Come pledge me the oath I dare ask of thee yet,
Come pledge me the oath that their memory claims,
These gardens and moments, ah! ne'er to forget,
While your name is Anna, and my name is James.
But, Lady! O Lady! your sex is so fickle,
There is no believing a word that they say;
Old Time like a reaper walks on with his sickle,
And gathers no emptier harvest than they.
Not content with discarding their fashions and dresses,
With their very own names they don't scorn to make war;
Thus while 'Young' my identity ever expresses,
You soon may be somebody else than you are.
Come, find me some oath that more surely may bind thee;
Come swear then by something that never shall change,
By the grace with which nature has lavish entwined thee,
Which time ne'er shall alter nor fortune estrange.
By thy smile's witching power, by thy mind's airy flight,
That lark-like soars high o'er the place of its birth,
And tuning its song in the porches of light,
Seems to sorrow that e'er it must sink to the earth.
Come swear then--but what can I swear in return?--
To remember thee ever wherever I rove,
Though my heart may be dead, and my breast but its urn,
I offer thee friendship--'tis better than love.