The Daughter of a Royal Line Shall weep for hearts perverse as thine; But more shall weep for her whose charms, Were given so rashly to thy arms— For her whose genius taste approves, Whom virtue guides and science loves— Yet thou, alas! Unfeeling man, Of sentiment the Charlatan, Unmov'd could see her grief, her fears And mock'd her gentleness and tears. Unmanly fell the vulgar rage, Might tinge with red thy blackest page. Even Lara, and the Corsair join'd Are feeble emblems of thy mind. Return, return to Eastern bowers, Hide thee in Athens' ruin'd towers; There shalt thou, pleas'd and joyful, see A land of slaves and misery. Ah! how unlike BRITANNIA'S plains, Where freedom smiles, and justice reigns. But tho' around thy PRINCE'S head, Her glories Victory has shed: And tho' the Maid who joys to share Her Father's fame, her Father's care, Sees for her brow the mystics twine, This Daughter of a Royal line Shall still find tears to shed for hearts perverse as thine.
