Whilst still I'll pray that thou may'st never know
The pangs of baffled love, or feel my woe.
But sure to thee, dear, charming--fatal maid!
(For me thou'st charmed, and me thou hast betray'd,)
This last request I need not recommend--
Forget the lover thou, as he the friend.
Bootless such charge! for ne'er did pity move
A heart that mock'd the suit of humble love.
Yet, in some thoughtful hour--if such can be,
Where love, Timocrates, is join'd with thee--
In some lone pause of joy, when pleasures pall,
And fancy broods o'er joys it can't recall,
Haply a thought of me, (for thou, my friend,
May'st then have taught that stubborn heart to bend,)
A thought of him whose passion was not weak,
May dash one transient blush upon her cheek;
Haply a tear--(for I shall surely then
Be past all power to raise her scorn again--)
Haply, I say, one self-dried tear may fall:--
One tear she'll give, for whom I yielded all!

* * * * *
* * * * *

My life has lost its aim!--that fatal fair
Was all its object, all its hope or care:
She was the goal, to which my course was bent,
Where every wish, where every thought was sent;
A secret influence darted from her eyes,--
Each look, attraction, and herself the prize.