The turtle on yon' withered bough Who lately moaned her murdered mate, Has found another partner now,-- Such changes all await. Again her drooping plume is dress'd, Again she wishes to be bless'd, And takes a husband to her nest. If nature has decreed it so With some above, and all below, Let us, Lucinda, banish woe,[135] Nor be perplext with sorrow: If I should leave your arms this night, And die before the morning light, I would advise you--and you might Wed again to-morrow. _Lucinda_ The turtle on yon' withered tree!-- That turtle never felt like me! Her grief is but a moment's date, Another day, another mate: And true it is, the feathered race Hold many a partner no disgrace. How would the world my fault display, What would censorious Sally[136] say? Would say, while grinning malice sneers,--[137] She made a conquest by her tears! _Thyrsis_ My Polly!--once the pride of all, That shepherd lads their charmers call, Too early parted with her bloom, And sleeps in yonder sylvan tomb: Her death has set me free-- Fair as the day, and sweet as May, But what is that to me! Since all must bow to fate's arrest,[138] No love deceased shall rack my breast-- Come, then, Lucinda, and be blest. _Lucinda_ My Damon! Oh, can I forget The hour you left these moistened eyes, O'er northern lakes to wander far To colder climes and dreary skies! There, vengeful, in their wastes of snow The Britons guard the frozen shore, And Damon there is perished now, The swain that shall return no more! _Thyrsis_ Weep, weep no more, my Jersey lass,[139] The pang is past that fixed his doom-- They, too, shall to destruction pass, Perhaps--and hardly find a tomb. Refrain your tears--enough are shed-- They, too, shall have their share of woe: Fled is their fame, their honours fled; And Washington shall lay them low. _Lucinda_ If you had but yon' sergeant's size, His mien and looks, so debonaire, You might seem lovely in my eyes, Nor should you quite despair.[140] There's something in your looks, I find, Recalling Damon to my mind-- He is dead, and I must be resigned! His lively step, his sun-burnt face, His nervous arm in you I trace-- Indeed,--I think you no disgrace.[141] _Thyrsis_ On this dismal, cloudy day,[142] In these fighting times, I say, Will you Yea, or will you Nay? _Lucinda_ Oh! I will not tell you Nay, You have such a coaxing way! _Thyrsis_