University of Virginia Library

SONG XII.

[O'er desert plains, and rushy meers]

1744.
O'er desert plains, and rushy meers,
And wither'd heaths I rove;
Where tree, nor spire, nor cot appears,
I pass to meet my love.
But tho' my path were damask'd o'er
With beauties e'er so fine;
My busy thoughts would fly before
To fix alone—on thine.
No fir-crown'd hills cou'd give delight
No palace please mine eye:
No pyramid's aerial height,
Where mouldering monarchs lie.
Unmov'd, should Eastern kings advance;
Could I the pageant see:
Splendour might catch one scornful glance,
Not steal one thought from thee.