The Maid of Boston

Where Charles's tide encircling leaves, The sweets of Boston's fertile shore, And smoothly glides his murmuring waves, To meet the white-spray'd ocean's roar: The roscat hours swift stole away, While Damon told his tender tale; But now he's gone I lonely stray, The hapless maid of Boston Vale.

'Ere from the East the dappled dawn, Had chas'd the ebon shades away, He'd bound across the dasied lawn, His orisons of love to pay: But honor's call his soul has fir'd, Nor could the tears of love prevail; From me he's fled— with grief inspir'd Now sighs the maid of Boston Vale.