AN EPISTLE FROM AN UNFORTUNATE GENTLEMAN TO A YOUNG LADY Occasioned by a catastrophe well known in the West . . BY THE SAME . THESE , the last lines my trembling hands can write , These words , the last my dying lips recite , Read , and repent that your unkindness gave A wretched lover an untimely grave ! Sunk by despair from life's enchanting view , Lost , ever lost to happiness and you ! — No more these eye-lids shower incessant tears , No more my spirit sinks with boding fears ; No more your frowns my suing passion meet , No more I fall submissive at your feet : With fruitless love this heart shall cease to burn , Life's empty dream shall never-more return . Think not , that labouring to subdue your hate ; My artful soul forebodes a fancied fate ; For e'er yon sun descends his western way , Cold shall I lie , a lifeless lump of clay ! Tir'd of my long encounters with disdain , Peaceful my pulse , and ebbing from its pain ; Each vital movement sinking to decay , And my spent soul just languishing away ; E'er my last breath yet hovers to depart , I prompt my hand to pour out all my heart . The hand , oft rais'd compassion to implore ; The heart , that burns with slighted fires no more ! Relentless nymph ! of nature's fairest frame , Unpitying soul , and woman but in name ; Angelic bloom the coldest heart to win , Without , allurement , but disdain within ; Regard the sounds which seal my parting breath E'er the vain murmurs shall be hush'd in death , Let pity view what love disdain'd to save , And mourn a wretch sent headlong to the grave . Profuse of all an anxious lover's care , To urge his suit , and win the listening fair ; Try'd every purpose to relieve my woe , My soul chides not , for innocent I go ; Save when soft pity bids my gentler mind Shrink at your fate , and drop a tear behind . How oft and fruitless have I strove to move Unfeeling beauty with the pangs of love ; As rose your breast with captivating grace , And heighten'd charms flew blushing to your face ; Insulting charms ! that gave a fiercer wound , Fond as I lay , and prostrate on the ground . Heavens ! with what scorn you strove my suit to meet , Frown'd with your eyes , and spurn'd me with your feet ! To bleeding love such hard returns you gave , As barbarous rocks that dash the pressing wave . O could your looks have turn'd my hapless fate , And frown'd my short-liv'd passion into hate ; Then had no scattering breeze my sorrows known , Nor vale responsive had prolong'd the moan ; Then had those lips ne'er learnt their woeful tale , Nor death yet cloath'd them in eternal pale . Oft to the woods in frantic rage I slew To cool my bosom with the falling dew ; Oft in sad accents sigh'd each prompting ill , And taught wild oaks to pity and to feel ; Till with despair my heart rekindled burns , And all the anguish of my soul returns . Then restless to the fragrant meads I hie , Death in my face , distraction in my eye ; There as reclin'd along the verdant plain , My grief renews her heart-wrung strains again , Lo ! pitying Phoebus sinks , with sorrow pale , And mournful night descends upon the tale ! When tir'd , at length , my wrongs no more complain , And sighs are stifled in obtuser pain ; When the deep fountains of my eyes are spent , And fiercer anguish sinks to discontent ; Slow I return , and prostrate on my bed Bid the soft pillow lull my heavy head . But O ! when downy sleep its court renews , And shades the soul with visionary views , Illusive dreams to fan my slumbering fire , And wake the fever of intense desire , Present your softer image to my sight , All warm with smiles , and glowing with delight ; Gods ! with what bliss I view thy darling charms , And strive to clasp thee melting in my arms ! — But ah ! the shade my empty grasp deceives ; And as it flits , and my fond soul bereaves , The transient slumbers slip their airy chain , And give me back to all my woes again : There wrapt in floods of grief I sigh forlorn , The constant greetings of unwelcome morn . But should oblivion reassume her sway , And slumbers once more steal my woes away ; When the short flights of fancy intervene , Your much-lov'd image fills out every scene . But now no more soft smiles your face adorn , Lo ! o'er each feature broods destructive scorn . Suppliant in tears I urge my suit again , Sullen you stand , and view me with disdain ; Your ears exclude the story of my smart , Your baleful eyes dart anguish to my heart . I wake — glad nature hails returning day , And the wild songsters chaunt their mattin-lay ; The sun in glory mounts the crystal sky , And all creation is in smiles but I . Then , sink in death , my senses ! — for in vain You strive to quench the phrenzy of your pain ; Break , break , fond heart ! — her hate thou can'st not tame , Then take this certain triumph o'er thy flame . 'Tis done ! — the dread of future wrongs is past — Lo ! brittle passion verges to its last ! 'Tis done ! — vain life's illusive scenes are o'er — Disdainful beauty shakes her chains no more . Come , peaceful gloom , expand thy downy breast , And soothe , O soothe me to eternal rest ! There hush my plaints , and gently lull my woes , Where one still stream of dull oblivion flows . No labouring breast there heaves with torture's throws , No heart consumes her daily hoard of woes ; No dreams of former pain the soul invade , Calmly she sleeps , a sad unthinking shade ! But e'er from thought my struggling soul is free , One latest tear she dedicates to thee . She views thee on the brink of vain despair , Beat thy big breast , and rend thy flowing hair . Feels torturing love her sable deluge roll , Weigh down thy senses , and o'erbear thy soul . In vain your heart relents , in vain you weep , No lover wakes from his eternal sleep . Alas ! I see thy frantic spirit rave , And thy last breath expiring on my grave . Is this the fortune of those high-priz'd charms ? Ah ! spare them for some worthier lover's arms . And may these bodings ne'er with truth agree , May grief and anguish be unknown to thee , May bitter memory ne'er recount with pain , That e'er you frown'd , or I admir'd in vain . No more — my spirit is prepar'd to fly , Supprest my voice , and stiffen'd is my eye : Death's swimming shadows intercept my view , Vain world , and thou relentless nymph , adieu !