Sick of the world, in prime of days Constantia took a serious fit — Resolved to shun all balls and plays And only read what saints had writ —
To Convent Hall she would repair And be a pensive sister there. “What are they all — this glare of things, These insects that around me shine;
These beaux and belles on silken wings — Indeed their pleasures make not mine — My happiness is all delayed — I'll go, and find it in the shade.”
A sailor, loitering from his crew, As chance would have it, passed along — She told him what she had in view, And he replied — “Fair maid you're wrong,
“Let faded nymphs to cloisters go, “Where kisses freeze and love is snow. “The druids’ oak and hermits’ pine “Afford a gloomy, sad delight;
“But why that blush of health resign, “The mingled tint of red and white? “In moistening cells the flowers expire “That, on the plain, all eyes admire.
“With such a pensive, pious train “Who, but a hermit, could agree — “Ah, rather stay to grace the plain, “Or wander on the wave with me:
“For you the painted barque shall wait “And I would die for such a freight.” “No wandering stranger ( she replied ) “Can tempt me to forego my plan;
“No barque that wafts him o'er the tide, “Nor many a better looking man: “Go, wanderer, plough your gloomy sea, “Constantia must a sister be.
“To gain so fair a flower as you, “( The Tar returned ) who would not plead? “Nor shall you, nymph, to convents go “While love can write what you must read:
“Come, to yon’ meadow let us stray, “I have some handsome things to say.” “Love has its wish when reason fails — “In vain he sighed, in vain he strove:
“Forsake ( said she ) those swelling sails “If you would have me — think of love: “Great merit has your sailing art, “But absence would distract my heart.”
What else was said, we secret keep;— The Tar, grown fonder of the shore, Neglects his prospects on the deep, And she of convents talks no more:—
He slyly quits the coasting trade She pities her — who seeks the shade.
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