Ye dear affociates of my breast,

Whose hearts with fpeechlefs forrow fwell

And thou with hoary age oppreft,

15

Dear author of my life, farewel!

For me, alas! thy fruitless tears,

Far, far remote from friends and home, Shall blaft thy venerable years,

And bend thee pining to the tomb.

Sharp are the pangs by nature felt,

From dear relations torn away,
Yet sharper pangs my vitals melt,
To hopeless love a destin'd preys:

While fhe, as angry heav'n and main
Deaf to the helpless failor's pray'r,
Enjoys my foul-consuming pain,

And wantons with my deep despair.

From curfed gold what ills arife!

What horrors life's fair prospect stain ! Friends blaft their friends with angry eyes,

And brothers bleed by brothers flain.

From curfed gold I trace my woe;

Could I this fplendid mischief boast, Nor would my tears unpitied flow, ́

35

Nor would my fighs in air be loft.

Ah! when a mother's cruel care

Nurs'd me an infant on the breaft,
Had early fate furpris'd me there,
And wrapt me in eternal rest:

Then had this breaft ne'er learn'd to beat,
And tremble with unpitied pain

Nor had a maid's relentless hate,

Been, ev'n in death, deplor'd in vain.

Oft, in the pleafing toils of love,

With ev'ry winning art I try'd

To catch the coyly flutt'ring dove,

With killing eyes, and plumy pride:

But, far on nimble pinions borne

45

From love's warm gales and flow'ry plains, 50 She fought the northern climes of fcorn,

Where ever-freezing winter reigns.

Ah

Ah me! had heav'n and she prov'd kind,
Then full of age, and free from care,

Where first I breath'd this vital air!

But, fince no flatt'ring hope remains,

Let me my wretched lot pursue: Adieu, dear friends, and native scenes, To all, but grief and love, adieu !

55

60

B

SONG:

To the Tune of the Braes of Ballandyne.

I.

ENEATH a green shade, a lovely young fwain

One ev❜ning reclin'd, to discover his pain;

So fad, yet so sweetly, he warbled his woe,

The winds ceas'd to breathe, and the fountains to

flow:

Rude winds, with compaffion, could hear him com

plain;

Yet CHLOE, lefs gentle, was deaf to his ftrain.

5

II..

How happy, he cry'd, my moments once flew !
Ere CHLOE's bright charms first flash'd in my view:
These eyes then with pleasure the dawn could survey;
Nor fmil'd the fair morning more chearful than
they:

Now scenes of diftrefs please only my fight;
I'm tortur'd in pleasure, and languish in light,

III.

10

Through changes in vain relief I purfue;
All, all but confpire my griefs to renew :
From funshine to zephyrs and shades we repair; 15
To sunshine we fly from too piercing an air:
But love's ardent fever burns always the fame;
No winter can cool it, no fummer inflame.

IV.

But fee! the pale moon all clouded retires;
The breezes grow cool, not STREPHON's defires: 20
I fly from the dangers of tempeft and wind,
Yet nourish the madness that preys on my mind.
Ah wretch! how can life thus merit thy care,

Since length'ning its moments, but lengthens defpair?

The

The RAVISH'D SHEPHERD.

A

A SONG.

I.

ZURE dawn, whofe chearful ray

Bids all nature's beauties rife,

Were thy glories doubly gay,

What art thou to CHLOE's eyes?"

Boaft no more thy rofy light,

If CHLOE fmile thee into night.

II.

Gentle Spring, whose kind return
Spreads diffufive pleasure round,

Bids each breast enamour'd burn,

And each flame with blifs be crown'd;

Should my CHLOE leave the plain,
Fell winter foon would blast thy reign.

10

III.