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83

SONG V.

[As near a weeping spring reclined]

As near a weeping spring reclined,
The beauteous Araminta pined,
And mourned a false ungrateful youth;
While dying echoes caught the sound,
And spread the soft complaints around
Of broken vows and altered truth;—
An aged shepherd heard her moan,
And thus in pity's kindest tone
Addressed the lost despairing maid:
“Cease, cease, unhappy fair, to grieve,
For sounds, though sweet, can ne'er relieve
A breaking heart by love betrayed.
“Why shouldst thou waste such precious showers,
That fall like dew on withered flowers,
But dying passion ne'er restored?

84

In Beauty's empire is no mean,—
And woman, either slave or queen,
Is quickly scorned when not adored.
“Those liquid pearls from either eye,
Which might an Eastern empire buy,
Unvalued here and fruitless fall:
No art the season can renew,
When love was young, and Damon true;
No tears a wandering heart recall.
“Cease, cease to grieve; thy tears are vain,
Should those fair orbs in drops of rain
Vie with a weeping southern sky:
For hearts o'ercome with love and grief
All nature yields but one relief;—
Die! hapless Araminta, die!”