A pastoral ballad in five anapestic quatrains signed "Amator." Since Harriot has proven unkind, the poet decides to have done with her: "My fond heart says her image is there— | It is — but she is not the same; | Let me cease then to fancy her fair, | And loath e'en the sound of her name." Henceforward the groves with sound with the name of Eliza. The New London Magazine was a pale imitation of the old London.
Full well I remember the time,
When Harriot was pride of my song;
For Harriot no longer I rhyme,
To another my strains now belong.
How oft did I load ev'ry gale,
As it fled, with the grief of my mind!
How oft did I lengthen my tale
Of Harriot, as fair as unkind!
My fond heart says her image is there—
It is — but she is not the same;
Let me cease then to fancy her fair,
And loath e'en the sound of her name.
Henceforth shall resound ev'ry grove
With Eliza, the beauteous and young;
I'll sing, and my theme shall be love,
If Eliza but favour my song.
Blush! blush! thou fair flow'r of the vale,
Go hide, thou bright offspring of sun;
Ye pinks and carnations, grow pale,
For Eliza your charms has out-shone.