Let us, Mary, now enjoy Nature's charms without alloy, Verdant lawn, and smiling grove;-- Brooks that babble but of love Will beside us softer flow. Let us seek the pleasant shade, Sit in bowers by us arrayed With gay flow'rets, where are heard Songs of many a pleasant bird, Which with rapture we will join. In that sweet and lovely spot, All the cares of earth forgot, Thou, the comfort of my sight, Thou, my glory, my delight, Shalt my soul to peace allure. SONG. The shades of spring's delicious even Invited all to soft repose, I only sighed to listening heaven In the still grove my bosom's woes. My heart's distress had Fate completed, Snatched from my sight my best beloved, And echo's busy voice repeated Sweet Mary's name where'er I roved. Without her sad the days and dreary, How cheerless drag life's moments on, Of pleasure's tumults sick and weary, All blissful thoughts for ever flown! But still to me more keen the anguish, With secret grief my heart must swell, That her for whom I ceaseless languish I dare not of my passion tell. No hope my cruel pain disarming, I live a prey to ceaseless wo, And Mary, sweet, and fair, and charming, How much I love her does not know. How shall I calm this bosom's raging? O! how alleviate its smart? Her tender look, all grief assuaging, Alone can cure my wounded heart. SONG. How blest am I thy charms enfolding, Cheerful thy smile as May's fair light, As Paradise thine eyes are bright, I all forget when thee beholding,-- Thou canst not think how sweet thou art. Thy absence fills my soul with anguish, Beloved one! hopeless of relief I count the mournful hours in grief, My heart for thee doth ceaseless languish,-- Thou canst not think how sweet thou art! TO MARY. Vainly, Mary, dost thou pray me Heedless of thy charms to live, If thou'dst have me, fair, obey thee, Thou another heart must give. One with stern indifference steeling, That could know thee and be free, One that all thy virtues feeling, Could exist removed from thee. That in which thine image blooming, Holds an empire all its own, Which, though thou to grief art dooming, Lives, fair maid, in thee alone; Every thought to thee addresses, Filled by thee with visions bright, Even 'midst sorrows, pains, distresses, Thou'rt its comfort, hope, delight. I be faithless! love avowing, To thee first I bent my knee, Even with soul thy looks endowing, First I knew _it_ knowing _thee_. Yes, my soul to thee returning, Thine own gift do I restore, Thou the offering proudly spurning, I its charm can know no more. Do not bid me, hope resigning, My fond vows of love to cease, How can I, in silence pining, Cruel fair one, mar thy peace? N O T E.