[health, But at length the soft passion succeeded by stealth, At the dance on the green, a young stranger came by, Fair Anna's soft hand he soon press'd to comply, Her breast with wild pleasure tumultuously beat, To think the young stranger her hand shou'd entreat, 'Fore all the gay nymphs of the plain. 'Twixt blushes and pride, and emotions quite new, From the eye of observance she quickly withdrew, The stranger he follow'd, and walk'd by her side, The theft of a kiss she affected to chide, And oft as he press'd her her sorrows to tell, While a tear from its source, undissemblingly fell, They parted-she sigh'd,-he sigh'd to have staid, For long had his heart been engag'd to a maid, Ah Anna! how wretched,-no more cou'd she trace, No more he return'd, the glad revels to grace- And wisely he fled-lest the beam of her eye, And well might so fresh, so accomplish'd a swain, Make age, its lost transports recover again, Then the maiden's first fondness let no one revile, Or the heart so unguarded and young; For tho' love had crept in, 'twas unconscious of guile, And falsehood ne'er fell from her tongue. Yet at night, when she hop'd on her pillow to prove, Form'd alone were her visions of Henry and love, With concern the fond parents beheld from her face, The tints of the fresh roses fly, Yet of anguish conceal'd they discern'd not the trace, Nor the woe that was dimming the eye. Yes, the white imposition continu'd its spell, Not a sigh e'en escap'd from her bosom to tell, Of sorrow and care by true comfort beguil❜d, Whose bloom to restore they assiduously sought, And thus had they liv'd in such blissful repose, Had not love in the breast of poor Anna arose, For soon shall their lily its fragrance refuse, Yet, yet she continu'd the pious deceit, Yet flatter'd her fond little heart; The stanger and she by some blest chance shou'd meet, And meeting, shou'd never more part. Ah! vain was the hope, and but short was its stay, For ANNA, the young and the fair; Yields at length her fine form to disease and decay, And her mind to corroding despair! In vain were her efforts to rally again, She felt it was fruitless-acknowledg'd her pain, Cold dews her still lovely features o'erspread, ; Her feeble, fond parents-ah! what did they say, Oh God! is this justice? half frantic cry'd I, Why of aught but old age this fond couple shou'd die, 'Cease thy impious enquiries-thy sorrows are wild,' A voice cry'd― And question no more, Had they serv'd but their God-as they worshipp'd their child, He ne'er wou'd have smote them so sore!' I felt the rebuke-the stern mandate obey'd, And bow'd to the righteous decree !— Convinc'd the just pow'r that their destinies sway'd, So neglected-shou'd so visit me. |