CRUEL invader of my rest, Alas! I know nor health nor ease, When I the dear deceiver view, Alone! I would thy force elude, I seek relief from company, All day I muse! all night I dream! Though slighted and opprest. Oh Love! thy wond'rous power I own, And Cynthia bear a part: Transpire her breast with equal flame, And take away thy dart. OH! how vain is ev'ry blessing, Love, the purest, noblest pleasure, ENCOMPASS'D in an angel's frame, An angel's virtues lay; Too soon did Heaven assert the claim, My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms, Must never more return; What now shall fill these widow'd arms? London: Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. |