[Addressed, during the Swiss tour
already mentioned, to a present
Lily had given him, during the time of their happy connection,
which was then about to be terminated for ever.]
OH thou token loved of joys now
perish'd
That I still wear from my neck
suspended,
Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd?
Or canst thou prolong love's days
untimely ended?
Lily, I fly from thee! I still
am doom'd to range
Thro' countries strange,
Thro' distant vales and woods,
link'd on to thee!
Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fall
So soon away from me!
As when a bird bath broken from
his thrall,
And seeks the forest green,
Proof of imprisonment he bears behind him,
A morsel of the thread once used to bind him;
The free-born bird of old no more
is seen,
For he another's prey hath been.
1775.