Page:The lives of the poets of Great Britain and Ireland to the time of Dean Swift - Volume 4.djvu/344

Practis’d by him, each virtue grew more bright,
And ſhone with more than its own native light.
Whatever noble warmth could recommend
The juſt, the active, and the conſtant friend,
Was all his own——But Oh! a dearer name,
And ſofter ties my endleſs ſorrow claim.
Loſt in deſpair, diſtracted, and forlorn,
The lover I, and tender huſband mourn.
Whate’er to ſuch ſuperior worth was due,
Whate’er exceſs the fondeſt paſſion knew;
I felt for thee, dear youth; my joy, my care,
My pray’rs themſelves were thine, and only where
Thou waſt concern’d, my virtue was ſincere.
When e’er I begg’d for bleſſings on thy head,
Nothing was cold or formal that I ſaid;
My warmeſt vows to Heav’n were made for thee,
And love ſtill mingled with my piety.
O thou waſt all my glory, all my pride!
Thro’ life’s uncertain paths my conſtant guide;
Regard leſs of the world, to gain thy praiſe
Was all that could my juſt ambition raiſe.
Why has my heart this fond engagement known?
Or why has Heav’n diſſolved the tye ſo ſoon?
Why was the charming youth ſo form’d to move?
Or why was all my ſoul ſo turn’d for love?
But virtue here a vain defence had made,
Where ſo much worth and eloquence could plead.
For he could talk——’Twas extacy to hear,
’Twas joy! ’twas harmony to every ear.
Eternal muſic dwelt upon his tongue,
Soft, and tranſporting as the Muſes ſong;
Liſt’ning to him my cares were charm’d to reſt,
And love, and ſilent rapture fill’d my breaſt:
Unheeded the gay moments took their flight,
And time was only meaſur’d by delight.

I hear