"O do not, do not, holy Friar, For I have lost the sweetest youth "And now, alas! for thy sad loss "Weep no more, Lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain : For violets pluck'd, the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow again. "Our joys as winged dreams do fly, Why then should sorrow last? Since grief but aggravates thy loss, Grieve not for what is past." "O say not so, thou holy Friar, I pray thee, say not so; For since my true-love died for me, 'Tis meet my tears should flow. "And will he never come again? Will he ne'er come again? Ah! no; he is dead, and laid in his grave, For ever to remain. H "His cheek was redder than the rose; But he is dead, and laid in his grave: "Sigh no more, Lady, sigh no more, One foot on sea and one on land, "Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, For young men e'er were fickle found, "Now say not so, thou holy Friar, I pray thee say not so; My love he had the truest heart O he was ever true! "And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth! And didst thou die for me? Then farewell home! for evermore A pilgrim I will be. "But first upon my true-love's grave My weary limbs I'll lay, And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf That wraps his breathless clay." "Yet stay, fair Lady, rest a while, Beneath this cloyster wall: See, through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall." "O stay me not, thou holy Friar! No drizzly rain that falls on me "Yet stay, fair Lady, turn again, "Here, forced by grief and hopeless love, These holy weeds I sought; And here, amid these lonely walls, To end my days I thought. "But haply, for my year of grace Is not yet pass'd away, Might I still hope to win thy love, No longer would I stay." "Now farewell grief, and welcome joy Once more unto my heart; For since I've found thee, lovely youth! 1 A TALE. BY WILLIAM MELMOTH, ESQ. ERE Saturn's sons were yet disgrac'd, It chanced, as once with serious ken He paused-when from amidst the sky, Wit, Innocence, and Harmony, With one united zeal arose, The triple tyrants to oppose. That instant from the realms of day With generous speed they took their way, To Britain's isle direct their car, And enter'd with the evening star. The dame who own'd, adorn'd the place; Three blooming daughters added grace. The first, with gentlest manners bless'd And temper sweet, each heart possess'd; Who view'd her, catch'd the tender flame: And soft Amasia was her name. In sprightly sense and polish'd air, While Lucia's eyes and Lucia's lyre Imagine now the table clear, And mirth in very face appear: Thus each admiring and admired, The hosts and guests at length retired: |