SONGS.
79
For hearts o'ercome with love and grief
All nature yields but one relief;
Die, hapleſs Araminta, die.
SONG VI.
WHEN firſt upon your tender cheek
I ſaw the morn of beauty break
With mild and cheering beam,
I bow'd before your infant ſhrine,
The earlieſt ſighs you had were mine,
And you my darling theme.
I ſaw you in that opening morn
For beauty's boundleſs empire born,
And
