Evander to Emillia

I wish in vain!—too distant thou To hear thy lover’s plaintive voice; Enchantress, wert thou present now, To urge his oft repeated vow, Would’st thou his drooping soul rejoice?

Would’st thou extend thy snowy arms, And clasp him to thy fragrant breast? Sooth every dread that yet alarms From cruel Fate’s impending harms, And lull corroding cares to rest?

Blest recompense for years of pain!— Come, Angel, come, with look benign, Come to the heart, whose warm disdain Would spurn a crown and regal train, Opposed to one soft glance of thine!

But O! too oft Reflection arms Against my peace, and sullen dwells On my scant dole of all the charms, Whose power eye-govern’d woman warms, And her enamour’d wish impells.

I grudge thee then that auburn hair, Which thy transparent brow adorns, Thy thrilling smile, thy graceful air, A voice, to soften stern despair, A cheek, that shames the summer morns.

But O! much more than all, my heart Breathes o’er those orbs its jealous sighs; Those orbs, that rays of genius dart, That love’s resistless powers impart, Those smiling, chiding, fatal eyes.