To REASON

Let fortune where she will, her gifts bestow— On those who ask them, let her favours slow: Titles and wealth th' ambitions may pursue, I center'd all my happiness in you. That Heaven, to which no secret is conceal'd, But every wish and thought must stand reveal'd, Views not a flame more pure, or truer mind, Among the various race of woman kind. All other ills I calmly could endure, But your neglect wounds far beyond all cure! With grief, no force of reason can controul, Distract the mind, and tear my very soul. My young affections, early gain'd by you! Which, as our years increas'd, still stronger grew, No time, or distance, ever can abate, They're fix'd irrevocable, sure as fate; My solitary path I'll mourning tread, Since you are gone, and all my joys are fled!