What though we never silence broke, Our eyes a sweeter language spoke; The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, And tells a tale, it never feels; Deceit, the guilty lips impart, And hush the mandates of the heart, But soul's interpreters, the eyes Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise. As thus our glances oft convers'd, And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd, No _spirit_ from within reprov'd us, Say rather, "'twas the _spirit mov'd us_." Though what they utter'd, I repress, Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess; For, as on thee, my memory ponders, Perchance, to me thine also wanders; This for myself, at least I'll say, Thy form appears through night, through day, Awake, with it my fancy teems, In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams; The vision charms the hours away, And bids me curse Aurora's ray; For breaking slumbers of delight, Which make me wish for endless night. Since, oh! whate'er my future fate, Shall joy or woe my steps await; Tempted by love, by storms beset, Thine image, I can ne'er forget. Alas! again no more we meet, No more our former looks repeat; Then let me breathe this parting prayer, The dictate of my bosom's care: "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, "That anguish never can o'ertake her; "That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, "But bliss be aye, her heart's partaker: "No jealous passion shall invade, "No envy that pure breast pervade;" For he that revels in such charms, Can never seek another's arms; "Oh! may the happy mortal fated, "To be by dearest ties related; "For _her_ each hour _new joy_ discover, "And lose the husband in the lover. "May that fair bosom never know "What 'tis to feel the restless woe; "Which stings the soul, with vain regret, "Of him, who never can forget." * * * * * TO JULIA! Julia! since far from you I've rang'd, Our souls with fond affection glow not; You say 'tis I, _not you_ have chang'd, I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not. 2. Your polish'd brow, no cares have crost, And Julia! we are not much older, Since trembling first my heart I lost, Or told my love with hope, grown bolder. 3. Sixteen was then our utmost age, Two years have lingering pass'd away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage, At least, _I_ feel disposed to stray, love! 4. 'Tis _I_, that am alone to blame, _I_, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast, is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason. 5. I do not, love, suspect your truth, With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not, Warm was the passion of my youth, One trace of dark deceit it leaves not. 6. No, no, my flame was not pretended, For oh! I lov'd you most sincerely, And though our dream at last is ended, My bosom still esteems you dearly. 7.