I.

When gloomy November , to Nature unkind,
Both saddens the Skies , and oppresses the Mind,
By Beauty undone, a disconsolate Swain
Thus sigh'd his Despair to the Winds and the Rain.

II.

" In vain the Wind blows, and in vain the Rains beat,
They fan but my Flame, without quenching the Heat;
For so fierce is the Passion which Stella inspires,
Not the Ocean itself cou'd extinguish its fires.

III.

Why gaz'd ye, My Eyes, with such aking Delight,
Till Paradise open'd and swam in my Sight:
Yes, Paradise open'd, and oh! to my Cost,
The Serpent I found, but the Paradise lost.

IV.

Heav'n knows with what Fondness her Heart I Addrest,
What passionate Tenderness bled in my Breast:
Yet so far was my Truth from engaging Belief,
That She frown'd at my Vows, tho' She smil'd at my Grief.

V.

Sure never was Love so ill-fated as mine;
If a Friend shall demand Her, what, must I resign? —
Yes, yes, O resign Her, be bravely distrest;
And tho' I die unhappy, yet — may He be blest!

VI.

And how blest must He be? — O to live on her Charms!
At her Wit while He wonders to sink in her Arms! —
But yet, O my Soul, to his Friendship be just:
Let Him live on her Charms; — I'll go down to the Dust.

VII.

To the Chambers of Darkness I gladly will go,
For the Light without Her is the Colour of Woe:
Come, Death, then relieve me, my Life I resign,
Since the Arrows of Love are less friendly than Thine .

VIII.

Ye Virgins of Isis , the Fair and the Young,
Whose Praises so often have sweet'ned my Tongue,
In Pity, when of my sad Fate you shall hear,
Oh, honour my Grave with a Rose and a Tear!

IX.

Perhaps the dear, beautiful Cause of my Doom
May steal, by the Star-light, and visit my Tomb:
My Ghost, if one Sigh shall but heave in her Breast,
Tho' restless without it, contented will rest.