WITNESS, ye Gods, and all ye Blest above,
(For Ye can witness best, how well I love)
If e'er, among our blooming Nymphs, I knew
Such Pleasures, as my Soul receives from you!
O dear AMANDA! could I but, with thee,
Once more my happy native Country see,
You should not there in lonely Caves retreat,
Nor trace the burning Sands with naked Feet;
Your Limbs, which now the Sun and Wind invade,
Should neatly be in softest Silks array'd;
In gilded Houses gaily should you ride,
By Horses drawn, which prancing Side by Side,
Neigh, foam, and champ the Bit with graceful Pride;
Our Time, in Pomp and Peace, should slide away,
And blooming Pleasures crown the smiling Day;
And, when the setting Sun forsook the Skies,
Approaching Night should but increase our Joys:
We would not on the chilling Ground embrace,
Nor Foes, as now, should interrupt our Peace;
But both reposing on some easy Bed,
Soft, as the fleecy Down, that decks thy Head,
The sportive God of Love should round us play,
While we, in Raptures, pass'd the Night away:
Then let us carefully, my Dear, explore
The Haven, where I first approach'd the Shore.
Perhaps we shall some floating Ship survey,
Safe to conduct us o'er the watry Way:
Nor let the foaming Waves your Steps retard;
I'll guard you o'er, and be a faithful Guard.