Alas What Tale

Miss Porden

Alas what tale affrights Lothario’s ear,
 Does Eborina quit these plains once more,
I fondly hoped tho’ many a changing year,
 To watch her walks by Ouse’s verdant shore.

And tho’ forbade in tender strains to woo
 Her virgin love, or weep her cruel scorn
At distance still her beauteous form to view
 At evening’s moonlight hour or blushing morn.

With careless grace as blithe she trilled the lay
 Her native woods or native meads among
From some near copse to view the songstress gay
 And in mute transport listen to her song.

And if neglected love, the theme she chose
 And some soft sigh should heave her tender breast
To hope her pity for fictitious woes
 Might warm her heart to greet a tenderer guest.

Sometimes I hoped the copse’s verdant screen
 Unfaithful might my hidden form betray
Seen by the maid, but not with anger seen
 In seeming ignorance she pursued her lay.

Alas those dreams are fled with her who gave
 A richer verdure to each sylvan scene
With brighter crystal decked the sparkling wave
 And made the sky more lovely, more serene.

Now she is gone no more can nature please
 Or artificial beauties soothe my woe,
No glance but hers can give Lothario ease
 No other smile on me can joy bestow.

Yet still with lonely steps I frequent rove
 Thro’ each loved dell the maid has trod before
And memory shall endear the vale, the grove,
 Tho’ smiling hope may gild the scene no more.