WRITTEN AT KINGSTON, AFTER A VERY LONG ABSENCE .

H ERE Innocence and Childhood play'd,
But here the seeds of Death were laid;
With roses Fancy deck'd her bed,
The Passions came — the Virtues fled.
By Genius led, these passions came,
Her dangerous fire still fann'd their flame;
The world in rainbow colours smil'd,
She first allur'd, and then beguil'd.