AMANDA IN A CONSUMPTION

Smit by the glance of your bright eyes

When I, Amanda, fondly gaze,

Strange feelings in my bosom rise

And passion all my reason sways:

Worlds I would banish from my view,

And quit the gods — to talk with you.

The smile that decks your fading cheek,

To me a heavy heart declares;

When you are silent I would speak

But cowardice alarms my fears:

All must be sense that you do prize,

All that I say — be grave and wise.

When wandering in the evening shade

I shared her pain, and calmed her grief,

A thousand tender things I said,

But all I said gave no relief:

When from her hair I dried the dew,

She sighed, and said — I am not for you!

When drooping, dull, and almost dead

With fevers brought from sultry climes,

She would not wrap my fainting head;

But recommended me some rhymes

On patience and on fortitude,

And other things — less understood.

When, aiming to engage her heart

With verses from the muses’ stock;

She sighed, regardless of the art,

And counted seconds by the clock;

“And thus, ( she said ) will verse decay,

“And thus the muse will pass away!”

When languishing upon her bed

In willow shades, remote from towns,

We came; and while Priscilla read

Of chrystal skies and golden crowns:

She bade us at a distance stand,

And leaned her head upon her hand.

So, drooping hangs the fading rose,

When summer sends the beating shower:

So, to the grave Amanda goes,

Her whole duration — but an hour!

Who shall controul the sad decree,

Or what, fair girl, recover thee?

Such virtue in that spirit dwells —

Such fortitude amidst such pain!—

And, now, with pride my bosom swells,

To think I have not lived in vain.

For, slighting all the sages knew,

I learn philosophy from you.