The Joy Thy Presence, Ever Brings to Me,
From Distant Plains, y^e muse Returns to Thee,
O may no thought, in Thy Dear Bosom rise,
To Damp, the Living Lustre of thy Eyes,
Those Eyes, where Gentle Joys serenely shine
and in soft Language say, thy Soul is Mine.
Let Pomp, & Grandeur, other Hearts intice,
Pride be their altar, Bliss their sacrifice,
Let Titles croud to swell the Envy’d show,
How cold the Transport: & y^e Tast How Low?
Ambitious still: from meaner Passions free,
To Heaven I sum up all I ask, in Thee.
Can I forget, that sad, Relentless Day,
That snatch’d the Parent of my Heart away,
That Hour, w^ch: from my Dubious love convey’d,
The Purest Spirit; & the Gentlest shade,
can I forget, the woes still then unknown,
you saw, & felt my sorrows in your own,
your Bosom heav’d w:^th Sympathizing sighs,
and Generous, Social Tears oreflow’d y^r Eyes,
What But thy Tenderness in such an Hour,
To charm my Greifs, & calm my woes had Power?

[f.105v]

Hush’d on y^e comfort of thy voice I Hung
and Drank the soft Peswasion of thy Tongue;
Reclin’d my aching Head ovecharg’d w^th Greif,
and from thy Faithfull Bosom found Relief.
Adieu yee shades, where once we us’d to Rove,
King seat of Freindship Pure, & Tender Love!
Adieu Dear Shades! Where First I strung my Lyre,
and where my soul, first own’d a Gentler Fire,
where Love, Himself, Indulgent seal’d my Doom,
and to Lysander gave my Life to come

Brettby. Aug^t: the 23^d 1728.

The Joy Thy Presence, Ever Brings to Me,
From Distant Plains, y^e muse Returns to Thee,
O may no thought, in Thy Dear Bosom rise,
To Damp, the Living Lustre of thy Eyes,
Those Eyes, where Gentle Joys serenely shine
and in soft Language say, thy Soul is Mine.
Let Pomp, & Grandeur, other Hearts entice,
Pride be their altar, Bliss their sacrifice,
Let Titles crowd to swell the Envied show,
How cold the Transport: & y^e Taste How Low?
Ambitious still: from meaner Passions free,
To Heaven I sum up all I ask, in Thee.
Can I forget, that sad, Relentless Day,
That snatched the Parent of my Heart away,
That Hour, w^ch: from my Dubious love conveyed,
The Purest Spirit; & the Gentlest shade,
can I forget, the woes still then unknown,
you saw, & felt my sorrows in your own,
your Bosom heaved w:^th Sympathizing sighs,
and Generous, Social Tears overflowed y^r Eyes,
What But thy Tenderness in such an Hour,
To charm my Griefs, & calm my woes had Power?

[f.105v]

Hushed on y^e comfort of thy voice I Hung
and Drank the soft Persuasion of thy Tongue;
Reclined my aching Head overcharged w^th Greif,
and from thy Faithfull Bosom found Relief.
Adieu yee shades, where once we used to Rove,
King seat of Friendship Pure, & Tender Love!
Adieu Dear Shades! Where First I strung my Lyre,
and where my soul, first own’d a Gentler Fire,
where Love, Himself, Indulgent sealed my Doom,
and to Lysander gave my Life to come

Brettby. Aug^t: the 23^d 1728.