A MELANCHOLY LOVER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS.

My Phillis, all my hopes are o'er, And I shall see thy face no more. Since ev'ry secret wish is vain, I will not stay to give thee pain. Then do not hang thy low'ring brow, But let me bless thee ere I go: Nor, O, despise my last adieu! I've lov'd thee long, and lov'd thee true.

The prospects of my youth are crost, My health is flown, my vigour lost; My soothing friends augment my pain, And cheerless is my native plain; Dark o'er my spirit hangs the gloom, And thy disdain has fix'd my doom. But light gales ruffle o'er the sea, Which soon shall bear me far from thee; And wherefoe'er our course is cast, I know will bear me to my rest. Full deep beneath the briny wave, Where rest the venturous and brave, A place may be decreed for me; And should no tempest raise the sea, Far hence upon a foreign land, Whose sons, perhaps, with friendly hand The stranger's lowly tomb may raise; A broken heart will end my days.

But Heaven's blessing on thee rest! And may no troubles vex thy breast! Perhaps, when pensive and alone, You'll think of me when I am gone; And gentle tears of pity shed, When I am in my narrow bed. Yet softly let thy sorrow flow! And greater may'st thou never know! All free from worldly care and strife, Long may'ft thou live a happy life! And ev'ry earthly blessing find, Thou loveliest of womankind: And blest thy secret wishes be! Tho' cruel thou hast been to me.

And do'st thou then thine arm extend And may I take thy lovely hand? And do thine eyes thus gently look, As tho' some kindly wish they spoke? My gentle Phillis, tho' severe, I do not grudge the ills I bear; But still my greatest grief will be, To think my love has troubled thee. O, do not scorn this swelling grief! The laden bosom seeks relief: Nor yet this infant weakness blame, For thou hast made me what I am. But hark! the sailors call away, No longer may I ling'ring stay; May peace within thy mansion dwell! O, gentle Phillis, fare thee well!