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I'd shun her paths, upon thy mouth to dwell,
More sweet than powder which the merchants fell.
O solace me with kifles pure like thine !
Enjoy, ye lords, the wanton concubine.
The spring now calls us forth; come, filter, come
To see the primrose and the daily bloom.
Let ceremony bind the worldly pair;
Sisters esteem the brethren's words fincere,
Espousals are but forms. O lead me hence,
For secret love can never give offence.
Then hand in hand the loving mates withdrawy.
True love is nature unrestrain'd by law.
This tenet all the holy sect allows;
So Tabitha took earnest of a spouse.
ONG had Panthea félt Love's secret smart,
And hope and fear alternate ruld her heart; i Consenting glances had her flame confest : In woman's eyes her very soul's expresto Perjur'd Alexis saw the blushing maid, He saw, he swore, he conquer'd, and betray'd.. Another love now calls hiin from her arms, . His fickle heart another beauty warms; Those oaths; oft whisper'd in Panthea's ears,", He now again to Galatea swears. Beneath a beech th’abandon’d virgin laid, -, In grateful solitude enjoys the shade ; There with faint voice the breath’d these moving ftrains, While sighing Zephyrs shar’d her amorous pains. ·
Pale settled sorrow hangs upon my brow, · Dead are my charms; Alexis breaks his vow! Think, think, dear shepherd, on the days you knew, When I was happy, when my swain wās true; Think how thy looks and tongue are form’d to move; ; And think yet more that all my fault was love..
Ah, could you view me in this wretched state,
You might not love me, but you
could not hate.
Could you behold me in this conscious fhade,
Where first thy vows, where first my love was paid,
Worn-out with watching, fullen with despair,
And see each eye (well with a gushing tear?
you behold me on this moffy bed,
From my pale cheek the lively crimson fted,
Which in my softer hours you oft' have sworn,
With rosy beauty far outblush'd the morn ?
Could you untouch'd this wretched object bear,
And would not loft Panthea claim a tear ?
You could not, fure-tears from your eyes would steals
And unawares thy tender foul reveal.
Ah, no! thy soul with cruelty is fraught,
No tenderness disturbs thy favage thought ;
Sooner shall tigers spare the trembling lambs,
And wolves with picy hear their bleating dams;
Sooner shall vultures from their quarry ily;
Than false Alexis for Panthea figh.
Thy bosom ne'er a tender thought confeft,
Sure stubborn flint has arm'd thy cruel breaft;
But hardest flints are worn by frequent rains,
And the soft cirops diffolve their solid veins ;
While thy relentless heart more hard appears,
And is not soften'd by a flood of tears.
Ah, what is love! Panthea's joys are gone,
Her liberty, her peace, her reafon, flown !
And when I view me in the watery glass,
I find Panthea now, not what he was.
As northern winds the new-blown roses blastgens
And on the ground their fading ruins cast;
As sudden blights corrupt the ripen'd grain,
And of its verdure spoil the mournful plain ;
So hapless love on blooming features preys,
So hapless love destroys our peaceful days.
Come, gentle sleep, relieve these weary'd eyes,
All sorrow in thy soft embraces dies :
There, 'spite of all thy perjur’d. vows, I find
Faithless Alexis languishingly kind;
Sometimes he leads me by the mazy stream,
And pleasingly deludes me in my dream;
Sometimes he guides me to the secret grove,
Where all our looks, and all our talk is love.,
Oh, could I thus consume each tedious day,
And in sweet slumbers dream my life away!
But sleep, which now no more relieves these eyes,
fad foul the dear deceit denies.
Why does the sun dart forth its chearful rays ::
Why do the woods resound with warbling lays :.:
Why does the rose her grateful fragrance yield,
And yellow cowslips paint the smiling field ?
Why do the streams with murmuring musick flow,
And why do groves their friendly shade bestow.?
Let sable clouds the chear ful sun deface,
Let mournful silence seize the feather'd race;,
No more, ye roses, grateful fragrance yield,
Droop, droop, ye cowslips, in the blasted field;
No more, ye streams, with murmuring mufick flow,
And let not groves a friendly shade bestow :
With sympathizing grief let nature mourn,
And never know the youthful spring's return.
And shall I never more Alexis see?
Then what is spring, or grove, or stream, to me?
Why sport the skipping lambs on yonder plain
Why do the birds their tuneful voices ftrain ?
Why frisk those heifers in the cooling grove ?-
Their happier life is ignorant of love.
Oh! lead me to fome melancholy cave,
To lull my sorrows in a living grave;
From the dark rock where dalhing waters fall,
And creeping ivy hangs the craggy wall;
Where I may waste in tears my hours away,,
And never know the seasons or the day !
Die, die, Panthea-fly this hateful grove;
Kor, what is life without the fwain I love?: