BY MR. SMOLLET.
Where now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy!
Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest;—
Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,
Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast.
Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,
With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour;
Lead Beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,
Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r.
For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead,
Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around;
Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade,
To hear the music of the grove resound.
I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall,
Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue,
Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall,
And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew:
There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair,
Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine;
Then, with a long farewell to love and care,
To kindred dust my weary limbs consign.
monimia, shed a gracious tear
On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest?
Wilt thou strew flow'rs, applaud my love sincere,
And bid the turf lie light upon my breast!