Note: "The above little production, with a variety of other pieces, which have, at different times, appeared in this paper, were written, by the author, at a very early period in life, when the heart, warm in youth, was captivated by the allurements of Friendship and of Love — The author has too high an opinion of himself to think of founding any reputation on productions of this kind; therefore, applause, or censure, becomes, equally, a matter of indifference — Founded, however, in Nature, and graced by sentiment it, surely, can be no assumption of arrogance to suppose that to some they may have been pleasing; and if a few only have been pleased, the end of making them publick has been answered. Bath, Nov. 24, 1786."
How sweetly the moments all flew!
They are past, and return not again,
Yes! sweet were the pleasures I knew,
When, Lucy, gave charms to the plain.
Return ye dear moments, return!
The Peace of my mind you'll restore;
For, Lucy, I languish and burn,
And must I then see her no more:
No more the dear maid must I see,
My heart sure with anguish will break;
The world has no pleasures for me,
Or none that my heart can partake:
In vain to forget her I strive;
No time can my passion remove,
While memory keeps it alive,
And shews me the maid that I love.