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Thus the fond pair with mutual ardor steal
Raptures, that never cloy; but short thy reign,
Indulgent Queen of Beauty! short the hour,
Which lights Leander o'er the conscious deep.
Stern Winter, cloth'd with frost, in tresses hoar
Steps palsy'd, through the main the busy storms
Urge the vex'd whirlpools, to the centre driv'n
They shake the throne of Neptune; pale with fear
The mariner prophetic to the strand
Worne by the surge has drag'd his willing bark,
And flies the faithless deep; far other cares
O'errule Leander's soul, Love boldly spurns
Discretion's softer voice, the Tow'r displays
Its evening-star accustom'd, light to joys,
The lover ne'er can quit; in vain the wave
Dashing the face of Heav'n forbids the youth
To trust its madden'd horrors; cruel Torch,
Thy beam malignant lights him to his fate.
Yet could not Hero, fear'd by Winter's frown,
Waste a few solitary, tedious nights?
Oh! call the Torch, for one short period call
From its aërial office! Fate severe,
Severer Love forbid; the flame, which erst
Led to the shrine of rapture, points to death.
'Twas
