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Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses

A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins

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 I. 
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To Amasia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
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128

To Amasia.

[O Cruel fair! at length, receive my Pray'r]

O Cruel fair! at length, receive my Pray'r,
At length, return my Passion, Cruel fair!
Think what it is to Love, and to Despair.
Whene'er I meet Acquaintance in the Town,
Thoughtful I pass, & look dejected down,
Scarce knowing Friends, and ev'n to Friends scarce known.
Strait, with concern they ask me what I Aile,
And Cry, why Pale, my Sylvius, why so Pale?
Silent I sighing stand, nor speak, nor move,
Soon, ah! too soon, from thence my griefs they prove,
And tell me laughing—Youth, Poor Youth! you Love.
Thinking on thee, Amasia, all the while,
Fond their ill-natur'd Pity to beguile,
Ev'n in Despair I force a racking smile.
With scornful Jests my Friends their Pity show;
Yes, proud Amasia too can pity so.
Almost in Tears, yet forc'd to smile again,
My Pain concealing, I encrease my Pain.
Love, Tyrant Love urges those sad Extreams,
Like Winter Suns, I smile with Watry Beams.

129

Vain are my weak Devices, and deceit,
They talk of business—and I name you strait.
Why Blush you now; why Pale again; they Cry;
Why?—you should Answer them, Amasia, why.
A Thoughtless Ignorance on Love attends,
Tell me the cause, that I may tell my Friends.
If this, fair Charmer! you refuse to do,
I'll lay it all, charge all my change on you.
Take then the Reason, Friends, Companions, take—
You see me Pale; 'tis for Amasia's sake.
To you (once Dear) and to the World I own,
I Love—I Love Amasia, her alone.