A MELANCHOLY LOVER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS.

My Phillis, all my hopes are o'er,

And I shall see thy face no more.

Since ev'ry secret wish is vain,

I will not stay to give thee pain.

Then do not hang thy low'ring brow,

But let me bless thee ere I go:

Nor, O, despise my last adieu!

I've lov'd thee long, and lov'd thee true.

The prospects of my youth are crost,

My health is flown, my vigour lost;

My soothing friends augment my pain,

And cheerless is my native plain;

Dark o'er my spirit hangs the gloom,

And thy disdain has fix'd my doom.

But light gales ruffle o'er the sea,

Which soon shall bear me far from thee;

And wherefoe'er our course is cast,

I know will bear me to my rest.

Full deep beneath the briny wave,

Where rest the venturous and brave,

A place may be decreed for me;

And should no tempest raise the sea,

Far hence upon a foreign land,

Whose sons, perhaps, with friendly hand

The stranger's lowly tomb may raise;

A broken heart will end my days.

But Heaven's blessing on thee rest!

And may no troubles vex thy breast!

Perhaps, when pensive and alone,

You'll think of me when I am gone;

And gentle tears of pity shed,

When I am in my narrow bed.

Yet softly let thy sorrow flow!

And greater may'st thou never know!

All free from worldly care and strife,

Long may'ft thou live a happy life!

And ev'ry earthly blessing find,

Thou loveliest of womankind:

And blest thy secret wishes be!

Tho’ cruel thou hast been to me.

And do'st thou then thine arm extend

And may I take thy lovely hand?

And do thine eyes thus gently look,

As tho’ some kindly wish they spoke?

My gentle Phillis, tho’ severe,

I do not grudge the ills I bear;

But still my greatest grief will be,

To think my love has troubled thee.

O, do not scorn this swelling grief!

The laden bosom seeks relief:

Nor yet this infant weakness blame,

For thou hast made me what I am.

But hark! the sailors call away,

No longer may I ling'ring stay;

May peace within thy mansion dwell!

O, gentle Phillis, fare thee well!