LINES
COMPOSED AT THE REQUEST OF A LADY WHO RETURNED TO THE NORTH AND DIED SOON AFTER.
ADIEU, fair isle! I love thy bowers, I love thy dark-eyed daughters there; The cool pomegranate's scarlet flowers Look brighter in their jetty hair.
They praised my forehead's stainless white; And when I thirsted, gave a draught From the full clustering cocoa's height, And smiling, bless'd me as I quaff'd.
Well pleased, the kind return I gave, And, clasp'd in their embraces' twine, Felt the soft breeze, like Lethe's wave, Becalm this beating heart of mine.
Why will my heart so wildly beat? Say, Seraphs, is my lot too blest, That thus a fitful, feverish heat, Must rifle me of health and rest?