SONG CCXXXII. The FRUITLESS ENDEAVOUE

When gentle Harriot first I saw, Struck with a reverential Awe, I felt my Bosom mov'd; Her easy Shape, her charming Face, She smil'd and talk'd with so much Grace, I gaz'd, admir'd and lov'd.

Up to the busy Town I flew, And wander'd all its Pleasures thro', In hopes to ease my Care. The busy Town but mocks my Pain, Its gayest Pleasures all are vain, For Harriot haunts me there.

The Lobours of the learned Sage, The comic Humour of the Stage, By turns my Time employ; I relish not the Sage's Lore, The Stage's Humour please no more, For Harriot's all my Joy.

Sometimes I try'd the jovial Throng, Sometime the Female Train among, To chase her Form away; The jovial Throng is noisy, rude, Nor other Female dares intrude, Where Harriot bears a Sway.

Since then nor Art nor Learning can. Nor Company of Maid or Man, For want of thee atone; O come, with all thy conquering Charms, O come! and take me to thy Arms, For thou art all in one.