For many freighted ships from shore to shore, 270 Their wealthy charge by his appointment bore: With scorn the parent eyed the lowly shade That veil'd the beauties of this charming maid. He, by the lust of riches only moved, Such mean connexions haughtily reproved: Indignant he rebuked the enamour'd boy, The flattering promise of his future joy: He soothed and menaced, anxious to reclaim This hopeless passion, or divert its aim: Oft led the youth where circling joys delight 280 The ravish'd sense, or beauty charms the sight. With all her powers enchanting music fail'd, And pleasure's syren voice no more prevail'd: Long with unequal art, in vain he strove To quench the ethereal flame of ardent love. The merchant, kindling then with proud disdain, In look and voice assumed a harsher strain. In absence now his only hope remain'd; And such the stern decree his will ordain'd: Deep anguish, while Palemon heard his doom, 290 Drew o'er his lovely face a saddening gloom; High beat his heart, fast flow'd the unbidden tear, His bosom heaved with agony severe: In vain with bitter sorrow he repined, No tender pity touch'd that sordid mind-- To thee, brave Albert! was the charge consign'd. The stately ship, forsaking England's shore, To regions far remote Palemon bore. Incapable of change, the unhappy youth Still loved fair Anna with eternal truth; 300 Still Anna's image swims before his sight In fleeting vision through the restless night; From clime to clime an exile doom'd to roam, His heart still panted for its secret home. The moon had circled twice her wayward zone, To him since young Arion first was known; Who, wandering here through many a scene renown'd, In Alexandria's port the vessel found; Where, anxious to review his native shore, He on the roaring wave embark'd once more. 310 Oft by pale Cynthia's melancholy light With him Palemon kept the watch of night, In whose sad bosom many a sigh suppress'd Some painful secret of the soul confess'd: Perhaps Arion soon the cause divined, Though shunning still to probe a wounded mind; He felt the chastity of silent woe, Though glad the balm of comfort to bestow. He with Palemon oft recounted o'er The tales of hapless love in ancient lore, 320 Recall'd to memory by the adjacent shore: The scene thus present, and its story known, The lover sigh'd for sorrows not his own. Thus, though a recent date their friendship bore, Soon the ripe metal own'd the quickening ore; For in one tide their passions seem'd to roll, By kindred age and sympathy of soul.