To her with tender sighs my hope appeal'd. While the sweet nymph my faithful tale believed, Her snowy breast with secret tumult heaved; For, train'd in rural scenes from earliest youth, Nature was hers, and innocence and truth: She never knew the city damsel's art, Whose frothy pertness charms the vacant heart. My suit prevail'd! for love inform'd my tongue, And on his votary's lips persuasion hung. 450 Her eyes with conscious sympathy withdrew, And o'er her cheek the rosy current flew. Thrice happy hours! where with no dark allay Life's fairest sunshine gilds the vernal day; For here the sigh that soft affection heaves, From stings of sharper woe the soul relieves: Elysian scenes! too happy long to last, Too soon a storm the smiling dawn o'ercast; Too soon some demon to my father bore The tidings that his heart with anguish tore. 460 My pride to kindle, with dissuasive voice Awhile he labour'd to degrade my choice: Then, in the whirling wave of pleasure, sought From its loved object to divert my thought. With equal hope he might attempt to bind In chains of adamant the lawless wind; For love had aim'd the fatal shaft too sure, Hope fed the wound, and absence knew no cure. With alienated look, each art he saw Still baffled by superior nature's law. 470 His anxious mind on various schemes revolved, At last on cruel exile he resolved; The rigorous doom was fix'd; alas, how vain To him of tender anguish to complain! His soul, that never love's sweet influence felt, By social sympathy could never melt: With stern command to Albert's charge he gave To waft Palemon o'er the distant wave. "The ship was laden and prepared to sail, And only waited now the leading gale: 480 'Twas ours, in that sad period, first to prove The poignant torments of despairing love, The impatient wish that never feels repose, Desire that with perpetual current flows, The fluctuating pangs of hope and fear, Joy distant still, and sorrow ever near. Thus, while the pangs of thought severer grew, The western breezes inauspicious blew, Hastening the moment of our last adieu. The vessel parted on the falling tide, 490 Yet time one sacred hour to love supplied: The night was silent, and advancing fast, The moon o'er Thames her silver mantle cast; Impatient hope the midnight path explored, And led me to the nymph my soul adored. Soon her quick footsteps struck my listening ear; She came confest! the lovely maid drew near! But, ah! what force of language can impart The impetuous joy that glow'd in either heart?