And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a penfive ear incline;
For thou canst weep at every woe,
And pity every plaint, but mine.
Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A brighter never trod the plain;
And well he lov'd one charming maid,
And dearly was he lov'd again.
One tender maid fhe lov'd him dear,
Of gentle blood the damfel came
And faultlefs was her beauteous form,
And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curfe on partys hateful strife,
That led the favour'd youth aftray;
The day the rebel clans appear'd,
O had he never seen that day!
Their colours, and their fafh he wore,
And in the fatal drefs was found;
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true-loves cheek, When Jemmys fentence reach'd her ear! For never yet did Alpine fnows
So pale, or yet so chill appear.
With faultering voice she weeping said,
Oh Dawson, monarch of my heart;
Think not thy death fhall end our loves,
For thou and I will never part.
Yet might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmys woes,
O George, without a prayer for thee
My orifons should never close,
The gracious prince that gave him life Would crown a never-dying flame; tender babe I bore
Should learn to lifp the givers name.
But though, dear youth, thou fhould'st be dragg'd
To yonder ignominious tree;
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend
To share thy bitter fate with thee.
O then her mourning coach was call'd,
The fledge mov'd flowly on before;
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not lov'd her favourite more.
She follow'd him, prepar'd to view
The terrible behefts of law;
And the last scene of Jemmys woes
With calm and ftedfaft eye fhe faw.
Distorted was that blooming face,
Which she had fondly lov'd so long:
And stifled was that tuneful breath,
Which in her praise had fweetly fung:
And fever'd was that beauteous neck,
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd:
And mangled was that beauteous breast,
On which her love-fick head repos'd:
And ravish'd was that conftant heart,
She did to every heart prefer;
For though it could its king forget,
"Twas true and loyal ftill to her.
Amid those unrelenting flames
She bore this conftant heart to fee; But when 'twas moulder'd into duft, Now, now, fhe cried, I follow thee.
My death, my death alone can fhow
The pure and lasting love I bore:
Accept o heav'n! of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more.
The difmal scene was o'er and past,
The lovers mournful hearse retir'd;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And fighing forth his name, expir'd.
Though justice ever muft prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due ;
For feldom fhall fhe hear a tale.
So fad, fo tender, and so true.
AIREST ifle, all ifles excelling,
Seat of pleasure and of love,
Venus here will chufe her dwelling,
And forfake her Cyprian grove.
Cupid, from his fav'rite nation,
Care and envy will remove,
Jealoufy that poifons paffion,
And defpair that dies for love.
* In the opera of King Arthur.
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