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Oh mock not then their penitential woes,
Thou may'st deign to mark this humble theme,
Nor seek with foul derision to expose,
And give to infamy their tainted name.

Nor deem me one of melancholy's train,
If anxious for the sorrow-wedded fair ;
(Tho' little skilful of poetic strain,
Whose pleasing music takes the tuneful ear.)

I steal impatient from the idle throng,
The roving gay companions of my age,
To temper with their praise my artless song,
And soft-ey'd pity in their cause engage.

'Tis virtue's talk to soothe affliction's sinart,

To join in sadness with the fair distrest: Wake to another's pain the tender heart, And move to clemency the gen'rous breast.

* This poem was first publilhed in 1763.

YARICO

Y A R I C O

то

I N K L E.

ADVERTISEMENT.

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Inkle is preparing to set out for England, after

having fold Yarico toa merchant at Barbadoes, ' notwithstanding that the poor girl

, (says the Spectator) to incline him to commiserate her condition, told him that she was with child by

him ; But he only made use of that information to • rise in his demands upon the purchaser.'

YARICO TO INK L e.

With falsehood lurking in thy fordid breaft,
And perj’ry's seal upon thy heart imprest,
Dar'ft thou, Oh Christian! brave the founding waves,
The treach'rous whirlwinds, and untrophied graves?
Regardless of my woes, securely go,
No curse-fraught accents from these lips shall flow;
My fondest wish fhall catch thy flying fail,
Attend thy course, and urge the fav’ring gale :
May ev'ry bliss thy God confers be thine,
And all thy share of woe compris'd in mine.

One humble boon is all I now implore, Allow these feet to print their kindred shore : Give me, Oh Albion's son! again to roam, For thee deserted my delightful home :

Το

To view the
groves that deck

my

native scene, The limpid stream, that graceful glides between Retrieve the fame I spurn'd at Love's decree, Ascend the throne which I forsook for thee : Approach the bow'r-(why starts the unbidden tear :) Where once thy YARICO to thee was dear.

The scenes the hand of time has thrown behind, Return impetuous to my busy mind : • What hostile vessel quits the roaring tide • To harbour here its tempest-beaten fide ? • Behold the beach receives the ship-wreck'd crew, • Oh mark their strange attire and pallid hue ! • Are these the Christians, restless fons of pride, * By avarice nurtur'd, to deceit allied ? • Who tread with cunning ftep the maze of art, • And mask with placid looks a canker'd heart? • Yet note, superior to the num'rous throng,

(Even as the citron humbler plants among) • That youth !--Lo! beauty on his graceful brow, • With nameless charms bids ev'ry feature glow : • Ah ! leave, fair stranger, this unsocial ground,

Where danger broods, and fury stalks around : • Behold thy foes advance-my steps pursue To where I'll screen thee from their fatal view :

He

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