The Night Her Blackest Sable Wore

by T. Durfey

The Night her blackest Sable wore,
And gloomy were the Skies;
And glitt'ring Stars there were no more,
Than those in Stella's Eyes:
When at her Father's Gate I knock'd,
Where I had often been,
And Shrowded only with her Smock,
The Fair one let me in.

Fast lock'd within her close Embrace,
She trembling lay asham'd;
Her swelling Breast, and glowing Face,
And every touch inflam'd:
My eager Passion I obey'd,
Resolv'd the Fort to win;
And her fond Heart was soon betray'd,
To yield and let me in.

Then! then! beyond expressing,
Immortal was the Joy;
I knew no greater blessing,
So great a God was I:
And she transported with delight.
Oft pray'd me come again;
And kindly vow'd that every Night,
She'd rise and let me in.

But, oh! at last she prov'd with Bern,
And sighing sat and dull;
And I that was as much concern'd,
Look'd then just like a Fool:
Her lovely Eyes with tears run o'er,
Repenting her rash Sin;
She sigh'd and curs'd the fatal hour,
That e'er she let me in.

But who could cruelly deceive.
Or from such Beauty part;
I lov'd her so, I could not leave
The Charmer of my Heart:
But Wedded and conceal'd the Crime,
Thus all was well again;
And now she thanks the Blessed Hour,
That e'er she let me in.