To a young Lady who was going to India.

SHALL we once more then meet on Albion's coast,
 Before, my dear, in India you're a toast? 
There gilded pleasures wait your jet-black eyes,
 And Asian youths for Scots Maria dies. 
Yes! they may die — and die — and die again,
 But ye's return and wed a Scottish swain,
 Or wed him there.