But O, such sense of matter bring!
As they who feel and never sing
Wear on their hearts, it will avail
With simple words to tell my tale;
And still contented will I be,
Tho' greater inspirations never fall to me.
A MELANCHOLY LOVER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS.
My Phillis, all my hopes are o'er,
And I shall see thy face no more.
Since ev'ry secret wish is vain,
I will not stay to give thee pain.
Then do not hang thy low'ring brow,
But let me bless thee ere I go:
Nor, O, despise my last adieu!
I've lov'd thee long, and lov'd thee true.
The prospects of my youth are crost,
My health is flown, my vigour lost;
My soothing friends augment my pain,
And cheerless is my native plain;
Dark o'er my spirit hangs the gloom,
And thy disdain has fix'd my doom.
But light gales ruffle o'er the sea,
Which soon shall bear me far from thee;
And wherefoe'er our course is cast,
I know will bear me to my rest.
Full deep beneath the briny wave,
Where rest the venturous and brave,
A place may be decreed for me;
And should no tempest raise the sea,
Far hence upon a foreign land,
Whose sons, perhaps, with friendly hand
The stranger's lowly tomb may raise;
A broken heart will end my days.
But Heaven's blessing on thee rest!
And may no troubles vex thy breast!
Perhaps, when pensive and alone,
You'll think of me when I am gone;
And gentle tears of pity shed,
When I am in my narrow bed.
Yet softly let thy sorrow flow!
And greater may'st thou never know!
All free from worldly care and strife,
Long may'ft thou live a happy life!
And ev'ry earthly blessing find,
Thou loveliest of womankind:
And blest thy secret wishes be!
Tho' cruel thou hast been to me.
And do'st thou then thine arm extend
And may I take thy lovely hand?
And do thine eyes thus gently look,
As tho' some kindly wish they spoke?
My gentle Phillis, tho' severe,
I do not grudge the ills I bear;
But still my greatest grief will be,
To think my love has troubled thee.
O, do not scorn this swelling grief!
The laden bosom seeks relief:
Nor yet this infant weakness blame,
For thou hast made me what I am.
But hark! the sailors call away,
No longer may I ling'ring stay;
May peace within thy mansion dwell!
O, gentle Phillis, fare thee well!
A CHEERFUL TEMPERED LOVER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS.
The light winds on the streamers play
That soon shall bear me far away;
My comrades give the parting cheer,
And I alone have linger'd here.
Now Phill. my love, since it will be,
And I must bid farewell to thee,
Since ev'ry hope of thee is flown,
Ne'er send me from thee with a frown;
But let me kindly take thy hand,
And bid God bless me in a foreign land.
No more I'll loiter by thy side,
Well pleas'd thy gamesome taunts to bide;
Nor lovers' gambols lightly try
To make me graceful in thine eye;
Nor sing the merry roundelay,
To cheer thee at the close of day.
Yet ne'ertheless tho' we must part,
I'll bear thee still upon my heart;
And oft' I'll fill the ruddy glass,
To toast my lovely scornful lass.
Far hence, upon a foreign shore,
Still will I keep an open door,
And still my little fortune share
With all who ever breath'd my native air.
And who thy beauteous face hath seen,
Or ever near thy dwelling been,
Shall push about the flowing bowl,
And be the matter of the whole.
And ev'ry woman for thy sake,
Though proud and cruel, as they're weak,
Shall in my walls protection find,
Thou fairest of a fickle kind.
O, dearly! dearly! have I paid,
Thou little haughty cruel maid,
To give that inward peace to thee,
Which thou hast ta'en away from me.
Soft hast thou slept, with bosom light,
Whilst I have watch'd the weary night;
And now I cross the surgy deep,
That thou may'st still untroubled sleep—
But in thine eyes, what do I see,
That looks as tho' they pitied me?
I thank thee, Phill. yet be not sad,
I leave no blame upon thy head.
I would, more grac'd with pleasing make,
I had been better for thy sake,
But yet, perhaps, when I shall dwell
Far hence, thou'lt sometimes think how well—
I dare not stay, since we must part,
T'expose a fond and foolish heart;
Where'er I go, it beats for you,
God bless ye, Phill. adieu! adieu!