While blooming Anna mourned the cause in vain Graceful of form, by nature taught to please, Of power to melt the female breast with ease; To her Palemon told his tender tale Soft as the voice of summer’s evening gale; His soul, where moral truth spontaneous grew, No guilty wish, no cruel passion knew: Though tremblingly alive to Nature’s laws, Yet ever firm to Honour’s sacred cause; O’erjoyed he saw her lovely eyes relent, The blushing maiden smiled with sweet consent. Oft in the mazes of a neighbouring grove Unheard they breathed alternate vows of love: By fond society their passion grew, Like the young blossom fed with vernal dew; While their chaste souls possessed the pleasing pains That truth improves, and virtue ne’er restrains. In evil hour th’ officious tongue of fame Betrayed the secret of their mutual flame. With grief and anger struggling in his breast, Palemon’s father heard the tale confest; Long had he listened with Suspicion’s ear, And learnt, sagacious, this event to fear. Too well, fair youth! thy liberal heart he knew, A heart to Nature’s warm impressions true: Full oft his wisdom strove with fruitless toil With avarice to pollute that generous soil; That soil impregnated with nobler seed Refused the culture of so rank a weed. Elate with wealth in active Commerce won, And basking in the smile of Fortune’s sun; For many freighted ships from shore to shore, Their wealthy charge by his appointment bore; With scorn the parent eyed the lowly shade That veiled the beauties of this charming maid. He, by the lust of riches only moved, Such mean connexions haughtily reproved; Indignant he rebuked th’ enamoured 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 The ravished sense, or beauty charms the sight. With all her powers enchanting Music failed, And Pleasure’s syren voice no more prevailed: Long with unequal art, in vain he strove To quench th’ ethereal flame of ardent love. The merchant, kindling then with proud disdain, In look, and voice, assumed an harsher strain. In absence now his only hope remained; And such the stern decree his will ordained: Deep anguish, while Palemon heard his doom, Drew o’er his lovely face a saddening gloom; High beat his heart, fast flowed th’ unbidden tear, His bosom heaved with agony severe; In vain with bitter sorrow he repin’d, } No tender pity touched 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, th’ unhappy youth Still loved fair Anna with eternal truth;