Hung on his coat, and begg’d for more delay: 120 But his own Judith call’d him to the shore, Whom he must meet, for they might meet no more;-- And there he found her--faithful, mournful, true, Weeping and waiting for a last adieu! The ebbing tide had left the sand, and there Moved with slow steps the melancholy pair: Sweet were the painful moments--but how sweet, And without pain, when they again should meet! Now either spoke, as hope and fear impress’d Each their alternate triumph in the breast. 130 Distance alarm’d the maid--she cried, “’Tis far!” And danger too--“it is a time of war. Then, in those countries are diseases strange, And women gay, and men are prone to change; What, then, may happen in a year, when things Of vast importance every moment brings! But hark! an oar!” she cried, yet none appear’d-- ’Twas love’s mistake, who fancied what it fear’d; And she continued--“Do, my Allen, keep Thy heart from evil, let thy passions sleep; 140 Believe it good, nay glorious, to prevail, And stand in safety where so many fail; And do not, Allen, or for shame, or pride, Thy faith abjure, or thy profession hide; Can I believe _his_ love will lasting prove, Who has no rev’rence for the God I love? I know thee well! how good thou art and kind; But strong the passions that invade thy mind.-- Now, what to me hath Allen to commend?”-- “Upon my mother,” said the youth, “attend; 150 Forget her spleen, and in my place appear; Her love to me will make my Judith dear: Oft I shall think (such comfort lovers seek), Who speaks of me, and fancy what they speak; Then write on all occasions, always dwell On hope’s fair prospects, and be kind and well, And ever choose the fondest, tenderest style.” She answer’d, “No,” but answer’d with a smile. “And now, my Judith, at so sad a time, Forgive my fear, and call it not my crime; 160 When with our youthful neighbours ’tis thy chance To meet in walks, the visit or the dance, When every lad would on my lass attend, Choose not a smooth designer for a friend; That fawning Philip!--nay, be not severe, A rival’s hope must cause a lover’s fear.” Displeased she felt, and might in her reply Have mix’d some anger, but the boat was nigh, Now truly heard!--it soon was full in sight;-- Now the sad farewell, and the long good-night; 170 For, see!--his friends come hast’ning to the beach, And now the gunwale is within the reach; “Adieu!--farewell!--remember!”--and what more Affection taught, was utter’d from the shore! But Judith left them with a heavy heart, Took a last view, and went to weep apart! And now his friends went slowly from the place, Where she stood still, the dashing oar to trace,