[Works of John Stowell + note by R.J.Moore]
SAY CHLOE why they pensive breast
Responding heaves the lengthen'd sigh;
What sobs thy gentle Soul of rest,
And why does peace her balm deny ?
Ah see ! Disease invidious seeks
Thy youthful beauties to consume,
And breathes malignant on thy cheeks,
To blast the roses in their bloom.
While anxious friends conceal their pain,
And smiling court thy health's return;
Alas, their smiles are forc'd in vain,
To soothe a heart inclined to mourn!
Not pleasur'd every winning art,
Nor cheerful mouths inviting glee,
Nor Friendship - can a charm impart,
That seems to yield delight to thee.
Oh tell me, Chloe, all thy care,
What sorrows can thy bosom move ;
For thou hast never known my fair,
The pangs of unregarded love !
Thy modest mien, devoid of art,
Thy innocence, that faultless frame,
Might warm the coldest, hardest, heart,
And kindle with the heavenly flame -
Too lovely maid, by nature blest,
Nor Fortune is to thee unkind ;
Say - can the World, stern foe to rest,
Malicious wreck thy Peace of Mind !
Allow me, Chloe, to advise,
Take counsel from a friend unknown ;
Whose bosom echoes to thy sighs,
And makes thy sorrows all his own.
Turn from the gloomy brow of Care,
Surrounded with his demon hood;
Enjoy what souls like thine must share,
The luxury of doing good.
The gems extracted from the mine,
To blaze on Folly may be given ;
But good deeds, Chloe, brighter shine,
And sparkle in the eye of Heaven.
Leave Pomp and Splendour to deride
The guilty, giddy, and the vain ; -
Be thine, sweet Girl, to step aside,
And kindly soothe another's pain.
Thus free from Passion's restless gale,
Secure from care and noisy strife,
Thy gentle bark shall peaceful sail
Along the smooth cannal of Life.
Isle of Man
The Above appeared in the Manks Mercury of 16 July 1793