The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer may she stay aboard:

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,
A soul devoid of art;

And from whose eye, serenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly, too, reveal'd;
For neither bosom lodg'd a wish
That virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of heartfelt bliss
Did Love on both bestow!

But bliss too mighty long to last,
Where Fortune proves a foe.

His sister, who, like Envy form'd,
Like her in mischief joy'd,

To work them harm, with wicked skill
Each darker art employ'd.

Her father, too, a sordid man,

Who love nor pity knew,

Was all unfeeling as the clod
From whence his riches grew.

Long had he seen their secret flame,
And seen it long unmoved;
Then with a father's frown at last

He sternly disapproved.

In Edwin's gentle heart a war

Of differing passions strove;

His heart, that durst not disobey,
Yet could not cease to love.