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SYMPATHY.
Sweet is the balmy breath of morn, When Summer sheds her rich perfume;And sweet the dew-drops that adorn The op'ning rose-bud's crimson bloom.
But sweeter are the sighs I hear, That Clara's pitying heart reveal;And lovelier is the falling tear That down her tender cheek doth steal.
STANZAS.
Go, tell the beauteous girl I love, That I upbraid her long delay;Tell her, no joy can William prove, Whilst dear Eliza is away.
Alas! dear maid, if fav'ring gales To-morrow kiss the rippling sea,Soft sighing through our swelling sails, They'll waft me far from love and thee.
