English poem
The American Songster, Song
by Anonymous
Why heaves my fond bosom, ah! what can it means, Why flutters my heart that was once so serene? Why this sighing and trembling when Daphne is near, Or why, when she's absent, this sorrow and fear? Why this sighing and trembling when Daphne is near, Or why, when she's absent, this sorrow and fear?
Methinks I for ever with wonder could trace, The thousand soft charms that embellish thy face: Each moment I view thee, new beauties I find; With thy face I am charm'd, but enslav'd by thy mind. Each moment, &c.
Untainted with folly, unfully'd with pride, There native good-humour and virtue reside: Pray heaven that virtue thy soul may supply With compassion for him, who without thee must die. Pray heaven, &c.