TO
MISS
H—L—D
.
1768.
SINCE
short
the
busy
scene
of
life
will
prove
,
Let
us
my
H—l—d
learn
to
live
and
love
;
To
love
,
with
passions
pure
as
morning
light
,
Whose
saffron
beams
unsullied
by
the
night
With
rosy
mantles
do
the
Heavens
streak
,
Faint
imitators
of
my
H—l—d's
cheek
.
The
joys
of
Nature
in
her
ruin'd
state
Have
little
pleasure
,
tho'
the
pains
are
great
.
Virtue
and
Love
,
when
sacred
bands
unite
,
'Tis
then
that
Nature
leads
to
true
delight
.
Oft
as
I
wander
thro'
the
myrtle
grove
,
Bearing
the
beauteous
burden
of
my
love
,
A
secret
terror
,
lest
I
should
offend
The
charming
Maid
on
whom
my
joys
depend
,
Informs
my
soul
,
that
virtuous
minds
alone
Can
give
a
pleasure
,
to
the
vile
unknown
.
But
when
the
body
charming
,
and
the
mind
,
To
ev'ry
virtuous
christian
act
inclin'd
,
Meet
in
one
person
,
Maid
and
Angel
join
;
Who
must
it
be
,
but
H—l—d
the
divine
?
What
worth
intrinsic
will
that
man
possess
,
Whom
the
dear
charmer
condescends
to
bless
?
Swift
will
the
minutes
roll
,
the
flying
hours
,
And
blessings
overtake
the
pair
by
showers
.
Each
moment
will
improve
upon
the
past
,
And
every
day
be
better
than
the
last
.
Love
,
means
an
unadulterated
flame
,
Tho'
lust
too
oft
usurps
the
sacred
name
;
Such
passion
as
in
H—l—d's
breast
can
move
,
'Tis
that
alone
deserves
the
name
of
Love
.
Oh
was
my
merit
great
enough
to
find
A
favour'd
station
in
my
H—l—d's
mind
;
Then
would
my
happiness
be
quite
compleat
,
And
all
revolving
joys
as
in
a
center
meet
.