Why shouldst thou bid thy love remember thee?
Thine all my thoughts have been, and still shall be.
Each night the cool Savannahs have I sought,
And breath'd the fondness of enamour'd thought;
The curling breezes murmur'd as I sigh'd,
And hoarse, at distance, roar'd my soe the tide:
My breast still haunted by a motly train,
Now doubts, now hopes prevail'd, now joy, now pain,
Now fix'd I stand, my spirit fled to thine,
Nor note the time, nor see the sun decline;