Classic Poem

BY MISS G — — .

A H ! Dorimant, victim to Love,
Too fatally caught in his wiles,
Can you in fair Laura approve
Those diffusive, those general smiles?

If inconstancy dwells with that fire
Which the sun-beams of Asia impart;
Can a daughter of Europe desire
To change with your Laura a heart?

No! — happier the temperate mind,
Which, fix'd to one object alone,
To one tender passion confin'd,
Breathes no wishes, no sighs, but for one. —

Such bliss has the maid of the plain,
Though secluded she lives in a cot;
Yet, rich in the love of her swain,
She's contented, and blesses her lot. —

Ah! say, if deserving thy heart,
The too undistinguishing fair,
Who to thousands can raptures impart,
And the raptures of thousands can share?

Ah! say, does she merit those lays?
Those lays which true passion define? —
No — unworthy the Fair of thy praise,
Who can listen to any but thine.