 | The poetical works of the late Thomas Little [i.e. Thomas Moore] |  |
7
TO JULIA.
[Well, Julia, if to love, and live]
Well, Julia, if to love, and live
Mid all the pleasures love can give,
Be crimes that bring damnation;
You—you and I have giv'n such scope
To loves and joys, we scarce can hope,
In heav'n, the least salvation!
Mid all the pleasures love can give,
Be crimes that bring damnation;
You—you and I have giv'n such scope
To loves and joys, we scarce can hope,
In heav'n, the least salvation!
And yet, I think, did Heav'n design
That blisses dear, like yours and mine,
Should be our own undoing;
It had not made my soul so warm,
Nor giv'n you such a witching form,
To bid me dote on ruin!
That blisses dear, like yours and mine,
Should be our own undoing;
It had not made my soul so warm,
Nor giv'n you such a witching form,
To bid me dote on ruin!
9
Then wipe away that timid tear;
Sweet truant! you have nought to fear,
Though you were whelm'd in sin;
Stand but at heaven's gate awhile,
And you so like an angel smile,
They can't but let you in.
Sweet truant! you have nought to fear,
Though you were whelm'd in sin;
Stand but at heaven's gate awhile,
And you so like an angel smile,
They can't but let you in.
| The poetical works of the late Thomas Little [i.e. Thomas Moore] | |