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| WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless fair, | |
| First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, | |
| He gaz’d, he listened to despair, | |
| Alas! ’twas all he dared to do. | |
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| Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly eyes, | 5 |
| Transfixed his bosom thro’ and thro’; | |
| But still in Friendships’ guarded guise, | |
| For more the demon fear’d to do. | |
| |
| That heart, already more than lost, | |
| The imp beleaguer’d all perdue; | 10 |
| For frowning Honour kept his post— | |
| To meet that frown, he shrunk to do. | |
| |
| His pangs the Bard refused to own, | |
| Tho’ half he wish’d Clarinda knew; | |
| But Anguish wrung the unweeting groan— | 15 |
| Who blames what frantic Pain must do? | |
| |
| That heart, where motley follies blend, | |
| Was sternly still to Honour true: | |
| To prove Clarinda’s fondest friend, | |
| Was what a lover sure might do. | 20 |
| |
| The Muse his ready quill employed, | |
| No nearer bliss he could pursue; | |
| That bliss Clarinda cold deny’d— | |
| “Send word by Charles how you do!” | |
| |
| The chill behest disarm’d his muse, | 25 |
| Till passion all impatient grew: | |
| He wrote, and hinted for excuse, | |
| ’Twas, ’cause “he’d nothing else to do.” | |
| |
| But by those hopes I have above! | |
| And by those faults I dearly rue! | 30 |
| The deed, the boldest mark of love, | |
| For thee that deed I dare uo do! | |
| |
| O could the Fates but name the price | |
| Would bless me with your charms and you! | |
| With frantic joy I’d pay it thrice, | 35 |
| If human art and power could do! | |
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| Then take, Clarinda, friendship’s hand, | |
| (Friendship, at least, I may avow;) | |
| And lay no more your chill command,— | |
I’ll write whatever I’ve to do.
SYLVANDER. | 40 |
