“Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame, "Ere while to flaunt it in the face of day, "When, scorn'd of Virtue, stigmatiz'd by Fame, "Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay.”

"Henry," she said, "by thy dear form subdu'd, 45 "See the sad reliques of a nymph undone ! "I find, I find this rising sob renew'd;

"I sigh in shades, and sicken at the sun.

"Amid the dreary gloom of night I cry,

"When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return? "Yet what can morn's returning ray supply,

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"But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn!

"Alas! no more that joyous morn appears "That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame, "For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, "And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with shame.

"The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, "The sportive lambs, increase my pensive moan; "All seem to chase me from the cheerful plain, "And talk of truth and innocence alone.

55

60

"If thro' the garden's flow'ry tribes I stray, "Where bloom the jasmines that could once allure, "Hope not to find delight in us," they say,

"For we are spotless, Jessy; we are pure.”

"Ye Flow'rs! that well reproach a nymph so frail, "Say, could ye with my virgin fame compare?66 "The brightest bud that scents the vernal gale "Was not so fragrant, and was not so fair.

"Now the grave old alarm the gentler young, "And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee; "Trembles each lip, and falters ev'ry tongue, "That bids the morn propitious smile on me.

"Thus for your sake I shun each human eye,
“I bid the sweets of blooming youth adieu ;
"To die I languish, but I dread to die,
"Lest my sad fate should nourish pangs for you.

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75

“Raise me from earth; the pains of want remove," "And let me, silent, seek some friendly shore ; "There only, banish'd from the form I love, "My weeping virtue shall relapse no more.

"Be but my friend; I ask no dearer name; "Be such the meed of some more artful fair; "Nor could it heal my peace or chase my shame, "That Pity gave what Love refus'd to share.

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"Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread, 85 "Nor hurl thy Jessy to the vulgar crew; "Not such the parent's board at which I fed ! "Not such the precept from his lips I drew!

Haply, when age has silver'd'o'er my hair,

"Malice may learn to scorn so mean a spoil; ? go

"Envy may slight a face no longer fair, "And Pity welcome to my native soil."

"She spoke nor was I born of savage race,
"Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign;
"Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace,
"And vow'd to waste her life in pray'rs for mine.

"I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend,

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"I saw her breast with ev'ry passion heave;
"I left her-torn from ev'ry earthly friend
"Oh! my hard bosom! which could bear to leave!

"Brief let me be; the fatal storm arose ;

The billows rag'd, the pilot's art was vain; "O'er the tall mast the circling surges close; "My Jessy-floats upon the watʼry plain!

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"And-see my youth's impetuous fires decay; 105
Seek not to stop Reflection's bitter tear;
"But warn the frolic, and instruct the gay,
"From Jessy floating on her wat❜ry bier!"

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And w

ma

Spens Her wi

Let non

LEVITIES:

OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR.

FLIRT AND PHIL:

A DECISION FOR THE LADIES.

A WIT, by learning well refin'd
A beau, but of the rural kind,
To Silvia made pretences;

They both profess'd an equal love,
Yet hop'd by diff'rent means to move
Her judgment or her senses.

Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be seen,
Went-when his glass advis'd him;
While meagre Phil of books inquir'd,
A wight for wit and parts admir'd,
And witty ladies priz'd him.

Silvia had wit, had spirits too;
To hear the one, the other view,
Suspended held the scales:

Her wit, her youth, too, claim'd its share;
Let none the preference declare,

But turn up-heads or tails.