A Song to Mira; on Parting

Can my MIRA leave her lover? Two long-ling'ring months to part— World of time! Thou gentle rover, Where, O where's thy tender heart?

Wilt thou thus thy person sever From my eyes and from my arms? For two tedious months, I never More shall view thy heav'nly charms!

When, in some fair streams meander, Thou thy beauteous looks shall trace, May sweet echo cry,—"Philander "Claims, as his, that angel-face."—

When thou tread'st, in blooming lustre, Some gay meadow's flow'ry side, And gay youths around thee cluster, To behold fair Nature's pride;

Then, Oh then, my Mira! mind thee To beware each shepherd's art; Know that heav'n and love design'd thee Mistress of Philander's heart.

Then remember each sweet hour That in pleasing pain we've spent, When Cupid, in triumphant pow'r, Thro' our hearts his arrows sent.

Think, how by each other sighing, We confess'd the mutual flame, Looking, melting, panting, dying— Joy was then too weak a name!

Think on these, and never yield thee To a heart less true than mine; Then shall heav'n's bright angels shield thee, As a being half-divine!