ITH fuch Delight I read your Letter o'er,
Your Prefence only could have giv'n me more.
Excufe my Paffion, if it foar above
Your Thought; no Man can judge of Woman's Love. With Business you, or Pleasures, may sustain
The Pangs of Absence, and divert the Pain.
The Hills, the Vales, the Woods, and Streams are stor'd
With Game, and Profit with Delight afford.
Whilft Gins for Beafts, and Snares for Fowls you fet,
You smile, and your own am'rous Chains forget.
Ten thousand Helps befides affect your Cure,
Whilft Woman's fole Relief is to endure.
Or with my Confident I hold Difcourfe :
Debating what should interrupt your Course:
Or viewing from aloft the troubled Tide,
Mix in the Fray, and with the Tempest chide.
Or in the Storm's leaft Interval fufpe&t
Your Stay, and almoft charge you with Neglect.
I seek your Footsteps on the Sands in vain,
The Sands no more confefs thee than the Main.
I watch th' arriving Barks, and never fail
T' inquire of you, and write by ev'ry Sail.
Still as the fetting Sun reftores the Night,
(The Night to me more welcome than the Light,)
I fix my flaming Torch to guide my Love,
Nor fhines there any friendlier Star above.
Then with my Work or Book the Time I cheat,
And 'midft the Talk Leander's Name repeat.
My wedded Thoughts no other Theme purfue,
I talk a hundred things-but all of you.
What think'ft thou, Nurfe, does my Leander come?
Or waits he 'till his Parents fleep at home?
For he is forc'd to fteal his Paffage there,
As nightly we by Stealth admit him here.
Think'st thou that now he strips him in the Bay,
Or is already plung'd, and on his Way?
Whilft fhe, poor Soul, with tedious Watching spent,
Makes half Replies, and Nodding gives Affent.
Yet cannot I the smallest Paufe allow,
But cry, He is launch'd forth for certain now.
Then ev'ry Moment thro' the Window peep;
With greedy Eyes examine all the Deep;
And whisper to the Floods a tender Pray'r
In your behalf, as if I fpy'd you there.
Or to beguile my Griefs my Ear incline,
And take each gentle Breeze's Voice for thine:
At last, furpriz'd with Sleep, in Dreams I gain
That Blifs for which I wak'd fo long in vain.
To fhroud you then my Shoulders I diveft,
And clafp you fhiv'ring to my warmer Breaft;
A Lover need not be inform'd the reft.
Thefe Pleasures oft my flumb'ring Thoughts employ,
But ftill they're Dreams, and yield no folid Joy.
Tho' ne'er fo lively the Fruition be,
To fill my Blifs I must have very thee.
At prefent, I confefs, the Seas are rough,
But were laft Night compos'd, and calm enough;
Why did you then my longing Hopes delay?
Why difappoint me with a total Stay?
Is it your Fear that makes my Wishes vain?
When rougher, you have oft engag'd the Main;
If it be Fear, that friendly Fear retain,
Nor vifit me 'till you fecurely may;
Your Danger would afflict me more than Stay.
Dread ev'ry Guft that blows, but oh! my Mind
Mifgives, left you prove various as that Wind.
If e'er you change, your Error fecret keep,
And in bleft Ignorance permit me fleep.
Not that I am inform'd y' are chang'd at all,
But abfent Lovers fear whate'er may fall.
Detain❜d by th' Floods, your Stay I will not blame;
But lefs I dread the Floods than fome new Flame.
Be hufht ye Winds, ye raging Billows fleep,
And yield my Love fafe Paffage thro' the Deep.
Bleft Sign, the Taper sparkles whilft I pray,
A Gueft i' th' Flame! Leander's on his Way!
Our Houfhold Altar yields propitious Signs,
From which my Nurfe your fwift Approach divines:
The Crickets too of your Arrival warn,
And fay our Number fhall increase ere Morn.
Come, gentle Youth, and with thy Prefence make
The glad Conjecture true; the Day will break,
And marr our Bliss; prevent the hast'ning Morn;
To me and Love's forfaken Joys return.
My Bed without thee will afford no Rest,
There is no Pillow like Leander's Breaft.
Doft thou fufpect the Time will be too fhort?
Or want'st thou Strength th' Adventure to support ?
If this detain thee, Oh! no longer stay,
I'll plunge and meet thee in the Flood half way.
Thus in the verdant Waves our Flames fhall meet,
And Danger make the soft Embrace more sweet.
Our Love's our own, which yet we take by Stealth,
Like Midnight Mifers from their hidden Wealth.
'Twixt Decency and Love unhappy made,
Whilft Fame forbids what our Defires perfuade.
How are thou nightly snatch'd from me away,
To dare the Flood, when Sailors keep the Bay?
Yet be advis'd, thou Conqu'ror of the Tide,
Nor in thy youthful Strength fo much confide,
Think not thine Arms can more than Oars prevail
Nor dare to fwim, when Pilots fear to fail.
With much Regret I cautiously perfuade,
And almost wish my Counsel disobey'd.
Ye when to the rough Main my Eyes I turn,
Methinks I never can enough forewarn:
Nor does my laft Night's Vifion lefs affright,
(Tho' expiated with many a facred Rite,)
A fporting Dolphin, whilft the Flood retir'd,
Lay hid i' th' Ooze, and on the Beach expir'd.
Whate'er the Dream portend, as yet refide
In the fafe Port, nor trust th’inconftant Tide.
The Storm (too fierce at laft) will foon decay,
Then with redoubled Speed redeem your Stay.
'Till then thefe Sheets fome Pleasure may impart ;
They bring what moft you prize, your Hero's Heart.
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