The boatswain gave the dreadful word, They kiss'd, she sighed, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu!" she cries; and waved her lily hand. The softest blush that Nature spreads Gave colour to her cheek; Such orient colour smiles through heav'n, When vernal mornings break. Nor let the pride of great ones scorn This charmer of the plains: That sun, which bids their diamonds blaze, To paint our lily deigns. Long had she fill'd each youth with love, Each maiden with despair; And though by all a wonder own'd, Yet knew not she was fair: Till Edwin came, the pride of swains, And from whose eye, serenely mild, A mutual flame was quickly caught, What happy hours of heartfelt bliss But bliss too mighty long to last, His sister, who, like Envy form'd, To work them harm, with wicked skill Her father, too, a sordid man, Who love nor pity knew, Was all unfeeling as the clod Long had he seen their secret flame, He sternly disapproved. In Edwin's gentle heart a war Of differing passions strove; His heart, that durst not disobey, |