I.

Within an unfrequented Grove
 As late I laid alone,
A tender Maid in deep Distress,
 At Distance, made her Moan.

II.

She cropt the blue-ey'd Violet,
 Bedew'd with many a Tear;
And ever and anon her Sighs
 Stole sadly on my Ear.

III.

“Ah faithless Man! how cou'd he leave
 So fond and true a Maid?
Can so much Innocence and Truth
 Deserve to be betray'd?

IV.

Alass, my Mother (if the Dead
 Can hear their Children groan.)
What ills your helpless Orphan feels,
 To Sorrow left alone!

V.

To Sorrow left by Him I lov'd;
 Ah perjur'd and ingrate!—
Ye Virgins, learn the Wiles of Men,
 And learn to shun my Fate.

VI.

For whom do I these Flourets crop,
 For whom this Chaplet twine?
Say, shall they glow on Damon 's Brow,
 Or fade away on mine?

VII.

But He the blooming Wreath will scorn,
 Who scorn'd my Virgin-bloom:
And me—alass! they suit not me,
 Unless to deck my Tomb.

VIII.

How oft the dear persidious Youth
 Invok'd each Pow'r above!
How oft He languish'd at my Feet,
 And vow'd eternal Love!

IX.

How sweet the Minutes danc'd away,
 All melted in Delight!
With Him each Summer-Day was short,
 And short each Winter-Night.

X.

'Twas more than Bliss I felt:—and now
 Alass! 'tis more than pain.—
Ye soft, ye rosy Hours of Love,
 Return—return again.

XI.

Ah no.—Let Blackness shade the Night,
 When first He breath'd his Vows:
The Scene of Pleasure then—but, ah!
 The Source of all my Woes.

XII.

How cou'd I think so sweet a Tongue
 Cou'd e'er consent to lye?—
'Twas easy to deceive a Maid
 So soft and young as I.

XIII.

And yet He lays the Fault on me,
 (Where none cou'd e're be laid,
Unless my loving Him too well.)
 And calls me perjur'd Maid.

XIV.

The Nymphs, who envious saw my Charms,
 Rejoice to see my Woe,
And taunting cry, “why did you leave
 The Youth that lov'd you so?”

XV.

But oh believe me, lovely Youth,
 Far dearer than my Eye,
I love you still, and still will love,
 Till oh, for you, I dye!

XVI.

Ev'n tho' you hate, I doat to Death;
 My Death my Truth shall prove.
My latest Pray'rs are Pray'rs for You,
 And Sighs are Sighs of Love.”

XVII.

She ceas'd:—(while Pity from the Clouds
 Dissolv'd in silent Show'rs:—)
Then faintly “Damon!” cry'd:—and breath'd
 Her Soul amid the Flow'rs.